This new time-traveling wrinkle in their relationship unsettled him, but not enough to stop listening.
Over the next few days, he went through all three albums from start to finish, over and over. He couldn’t stop. Her music wasn’t like anything else he listened to—it was rawer, angrier, more bitter and intense. But it could be playful, too, and sexy, and hopeful, and joyous, and, above all, catchy, the unusual melodies digging their claws into his brain and refusing to leave even when he wasn’t actively listening.
He didn’t normally pay too much attention to lyrics, but hers were hard to ignore. Knowing how guarded she was now, how hard it had been to get her to open up, it shocked him to listen to her confess bluntly about her failed relationships, her regrets, her doubts and fears and flaws. He didn’t fully understand all of it, but it resonated down to his core, like she’d plucked a string deep inside him he hadn’t even known was there.
It was hard not to wonder which of her songs were about her ex, the guitarist. It was even harder to resist the temptation to look up his own band, see if he’d written anything about her in response. He knew if he asked Jo, they would probably give hima detailed rundown, complete with citations, but that would definitely be crossing a line, if he hadn’t already. And from dating Helene, he knew the discomfort of having your partner air out their issues with your relationship through art—though at least her work had been more obscure, shrouded in layers of metaphor.
Either way, his attempt to get her out of his system had backfired: she had crawled completely under his skin.
It would be lying to say another few weeks went by “before he knew it”—he was painfully aware of every day passing. Still, he mostly managed to avoid seeing more than a glimpse of her. Even his work for SummerFest didn’t involve her anymore, now that it was close enough that everyone had split into smaller subcommittees.
There was an early summer storm brewing as he drove back from her house one night, electricity crackling in the air. Sheets of rain had already started to lash against his car windows when he pulled into his driveway, the streets and sidewalks eerily empty all the way home.
When he opened the door, Jo and Simon were sitting at the kitchen table, Jo shuffling their tarot cards as Simon scrolled through his phone.
“So, when are you going to put in a word with Daniela for me?” Simon was asking.
Jo snorted as Niko set his work bag down and shrugged out of his overshirt.
“Come on,” Simon wheedled. “She’s so fine. Ask the cards if she likes younger men.”
Jo fanned out the deck for Simon to pick one. He did, then handed it to them: the grizzled, bearded figure of the Hermit. Jo grimaced. “Not looking good for you, man.”
“Maybe you’re reading it wrong. What about inverted?”Simon slumped back in his chair, resigned, as Niko sat down next to him. As soon as he did, all three of their phones buzzed at once.
Since Simon was already holding his, his face was the first to drop. “Oh, shit. Check your email.”
Jo and Niko exchanged concerned glances before grabbing their own phones.
At the top of his inbox was an email from their landlord, Dennis. He opened it, his eyes scanning it ineffectively, a few phrases jumping out at him:unfortunatelyandexemplary tenantandeffective September 1.
Once he was able to make sense of it, his stomach lurched, his vision going blurry at the edges. He blinked several times in quick succession, but once the email came back into focus again, it said the same thing.
He looked up, dumbfounded. “We’re being evicted?”
“Of course he’s turning it into a fucking Airbnb,” Jo said, rolling their eyes.
“What are we going to do?” Niko asked, a frantic edge to his voice, suddenly feeling like no one was taking this seriously enough.
Jo and Simon exchanged a look.
“Well…we’re both leaving at the end of the summer anyway,” said Simon, his voice cautious. “So…”
“Right,” Niko said, feeling like he was a million miles away from his body.
“But I’m sure you can find another place in town, right?” Jo interjected quickly.
He took a deep breath, struggling to organize his thoughts.
He was paying well below market rate for this house, and he already knew what was out there for his budget: a poorly constructed studio in one of the new apartment complexes on theedge of town. Maybe a spare room in an acquaintance’s house, temporarily. Nothing that could compare to the home he had built here over the last seven years. He’d have to give up his workshop and his furniture side hustle, which would eat into his income even more.
Anger coursed through him, then helplessness, then despair, all in quick succession.
But, to his surprise, a strange clarity settled over him, displacing every other emotion. Maybe this was the push he’d been waiting for all along, signaling that his time in Crested Peak had come to an end. He’d always known he couldn’t stay here forever. Now he could finally stop postponing his mother’s offer of a stable office job with a salary and benefits and begin the next phase of his life, close to his family.
Plus—and he hated that this even crossed his mind—he wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into Merritt everywhere anymore. It was easy enough for him to steer clear of her now, when he was busier than he’d ever been in his life, but that wouldn’t always be the case.
“I think I might leave, too,” he said slowly, and he had only a split second to absorb Jo’s and Simon’s shocked expressions before their windows lit up with a flash of lightning, a huge clap of thunder shaking the house, and they were instantly plunged into darkness.
