“Ryder.”
I look at the fields. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” She slides one hand down to take mine, threading our fingers together. “Are you worried about the cottages? I know the damage looked bad last night, but?—”
“It’s worse than we thought,” I reply in a flat, dead tone.
She’s quiet for a moment. “How much worse?”
I drag a hand across my jaw. “It’ll take weeks to fix. Maybe longer. The entire summer season is lost. I had to cancel all bookings and refund the deposits.”
She blinks at me, not really understanding. It’s not her fault—I’m not explaining the situation properly. But voicing it aloud would mean admitting the truth to myself, and I’m not ready for that.
“I’m sorry.” Faye nudges a clump of grass with the toe of her shoe. “That’s a huge setback. But you’ll be able to rent them again once the repairs are done, right? You’ll make up the lost income over time.”
I don’t answer.
Her grip on my hand tightens. “Ryder, what aren’t you telling me? I could tell last night that Rebecca and Remy were worried. It is about more than lost summer bookings, isn’t it?”
I pull my hand away. Cross my arms. Create distance even though she’s standing right next to me.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she offers. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”
She doesn’t push, and that’s what breaks me. Fuck it. What’s the point of hiding how badly I’ve screwed up?
“Even if the insurance covers everything—which I doubt—the money won’t come in time.” The admission tastes like failure. “I’ll lose the cottages to the bank first.”
Her eyebrows draw together. “But they’d want to give you a respite on the mortgage payments until the insurance settlement comes through. Why wouldn’t they?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Because the Rockwoods have them in their pockets.”
“The Rockwoods?” She tilts her head. “The founding family?”
“Yeah.” I turn back to the fence. “They’ve been after the lakefront land ever since they got into real estate development. Made us a couple of offers over the years. Good ones. But we always said no. That land has been ours since the town was founded. It’s not for sale.”
“And they control the bank?” Worry seeps into her voice.
“Not directly, but, yeah, the second I miss a payment, they’ll move to foreclose. Charles Rockwood will make sure of that. The old man is ruthless. And without the rental income, I can’t cover the mortgage.”
Silence stretches between us. Long enough that I glance over at her.
Faye’s gaze is on the ground. She’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, a deep crease between her eyebrows.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
She looks up at me. “Is it only a cash flow problem?”
“Only?” I scoff. “Cash flow is everything when the bank owns you.”
“I mean—” She takes a breath, gaze uncertain. “I could cover the mortgage until the insurance comes through.”
“How do you mean?”
“It’d be a loan.” She speaks faster now, like she needs to spit the words out before she loses her nerve. “I give you the money for the next installments, then you pay me back with the insurance. Problem solved.”
“Faye.” I shake my head, caught between disbelief and a spark of hope I can’t indulge. “Do you have an extra ten grand a month lying around?”
Her expression turns almost apologetic.
