“Hey, Chloe,” he says, his northern accent thick.
“Clover,” I correct.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. I tried calling you about the house, you know how the pipes burst and whatnot,” he says, and I can feel my face express how annoyed I am as he mansplains what happened, even though I’m the one who told him about it in the first place.
“Yeah, Rich. I was there,” I deadpan.
“Right, right. Anyways, I couldn’t get a hold of you; you’re one tough cookie to track down.”
I sigh. “Yeah, there was a bad storm here, and it knocked the power out on the farm I’m staying on,” I explain.
“Look, long story short, kid,” he interrupts. Being called a kid at my age is wild, but okay. “It’s more than just a pipe thing. When they opened the walls to get at it, they told me there’s mold. A lot of it. Stuff you would never know about until someone goes digging, you know?”
I stretch out an “mhmm”, but when he doesn’t continue, I press. “So, when will it be done?”
“Yeah, see, that’s where it gets a little tricky. The inspector came out, and he said it’s a no-go.”
I freeze. “What do you mean, no-go?” I ask slowly.
“I mean, no one’s allowed to live there. Health thing, or whatever. Whole mess of liability.”
I squeeze my hand around my phone, and he should be glad I don’t have access to his neck. “So you’re saying I can’t move back in.”
“Ehhh,” he says, like he’s contemplating. “Technically, I’m not saying it, kid. I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it, of course, but when the feds tell you to do something . . . ” he trails off.
“You said the house was move-in ready, Rich. I signed a lease.”
“Hey, at the time, it was. These things happen all the time. Old houses, am I right?”
He’s acting like he just got the wrong coffee order and not like he’s leaving me without a place to live.
“I’ll send you back your deposit and the first month you paid,” he says. I’d fucking hope so. “And hey,” he continues, “You were a great tenant. If anyone needs a reference, have them call me, and I’ll tell them. I’ll email you the paperwork. The inspector said you’re cleared to get your stuff, but you need to get it outquickly. I’ll email you the paperwork for your renter’s insurance so you can try to recoup some of the furniture and whatever else. I’ll send it over now. Stay safe, Chloe.”
He hangs up, and I stare at my phone.
What the fuck do I do now?
BECKETT
I’ve known Clover long enough to know when her pretty little smile is fake as fuck. Right now, it’s fake as fuck, but she’s putting on a hell of a show for Lennon. I raise a brow at her in question, but she shakes her head no quickly, and I nod. We will talk about it in a bit. While she’s distracted, I see my daughter shove her spoon right into Clover’s ice cream.
“Whoa, little thief. You can’t go stealin’ other people’s ice cream,” I start. “You have your own.”
“It’s gone, and I wanted to try Lovey’s ‘stachio ice cream. It’s green even though she promised it don’t taste like boogers.”
Clover’sreallaugh bubbles out of her. “It’s fine, Beck. She can try it, but only to prove it is definitely not booger flavored.”
I sigh. Between the two of them, trying to get either one to do something is useless. My girls are stubborn. Scratch that— Lennon is stubborn. Clover’s not mine, and I need to stop thinking in phrases like that. I had my chance. I fucked it up. I can’t expect her to jump right in, as though nothing happened all those years ago. I groan internally at how fucking stupid young me was, trying to push her away instead of having an honest conversation with her.
After we finish our ice cream, we decide to stop at the park across the street for a bit. I gently suggested it, knowing how hopped up on sugar the kid is right now. She will need to burn some of it off.
“Try to stay out of the mud,” I call after Lennon as she runs towards the monkey bars.
Clover and I sit on a bench and watch her for a few minutes in silence, and I can tell we are both making sure she’s safe. It makes me feel weird inside. I’ve had a couple of not-too-serious relationships since Hannah bounced, but I’ve never let any of them get too close to Lennon. It’s better for everyone that way.
Seeing someone else care about my kid, though, that’s not my family or someone I’m paying by the hour to care about her . . . it’s wild. It’s something I didn’t know I was missing out on.
After we are both content with Lennon’s situation, I lean back on the bench, cross one leg over the other, and casually drape an arm around the back. I act like it’s just to stretch out, but I know it’s bullshit. I just want to be near her. If she notices, she doesn’t call me out on it.
