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WHAT?! Are you okay? Do you want me to call?

I’m fine, really. It wasn’t working anyway.

But my phone rings before I can set it down.

“Don’t you dare ‘I’m fine’ me, Lily.” Callie’s voice is sharp with concern. “What happened?”

I launch into the sanitized version, leaving out the part about Matt shouting at me. I keep my voice light, casual, like I’m discussing the weather instead of my latest romantic failure.

“Where are you staying?” she asks.

“About that. Uh, Hudson and the guys offered me their guest room.” I pick at the comforter. “It’s temporary, until I find an apartment or something.”

“Hudson Hudson?”

Exhaling, I nod even though she can’t see me. “Yeah.” There are so many things she probably wants to say or ask.

There’s a pause, and I can practically hear her processing. “Okay, well are they being nice?”

“Oh yeah. They’re always nice.”

“And you’re really okay?”

Yes? No? I don’t know? Should I be more upset? Am I broken for already being ready to move on with my life? What would my therapist say? Instead, I say, “I am, I swear.”

“You don’t have to be strong right now. You know that, right? It’s okay to be upset when someone treats you like garbage.”

That’s exactly what Matt did and I put up with it for too long. My throat tightens. I force another laugh to conceal my emotions. “I’m really okay. Honestly. It was time to end things anyway.”

We talk for a few more minutes, Callie being the perfect friend, giving me space to deflect while still making sure I know she’s there. When we finally hang up, I exhale slowly and let myself fall backward onto the bed.

Staring up at the beams on the ceiling, I wonder if I’ll ever figure this out. Maybe love isn’t meant for people like me. Maybe I’m destined to be the friend who helps everyone else find their happiness while I cycle through disappointment after disappointment.

The thought should depress me, instead, it feels almost liberating.

I sit up, pulling my laptop from my bag with renewed determination. Time to throw myself into work, find a new place to live, and stop depending on men who’ll inevitably let me down. Still, there’s a little spark of hope that one day I’ll meet someone who won’t disappoint me. For now though, I’m not holding my breath.

Chapter Four

LILY

Turns out sleeping on a couch is not as restful as it seems because I wake up from a much needed nap around four in the afternoon. Freshly rested, a little more hopeful than I’ve felt in weeks, I stretch on the bed and then grab my phone. There are three promising rental listings I bookmarked before my nap. The deposit will take every penny of my measly checking account.

When Mom got sick, there were a lot of upfront expenses from doctor’s visits. Having only worked in hospitality, she didn’t have a ton of savings and she still has two more years until she can get medicare. Of course I helped pay for things because that’s what you do, and at the beginning, I was perfectly capable of keeping up with things until bills kept coming.

Coupled with the way real estate slowed down and the money barely trickling in, debt quickly buried me. It didn’t help that I used the last of my credit to take out a loan for the renovation in a moment of fear and desperation for things to go back to the way they were before. I barely make enough selling that I had to take a part-time job cleaning short-term rentals in order to pay for Mom’s care.

I’m definitely still in hot water. If the landlords can be reasonable, see that I’m a local with a steady job, I should be able to get a place. Hopefully. Maybe. Possibly?

The house is too quiet, and my thoughts are far too loud. The guys are still at work. Guilt nips at me. They’re working on my renovation. Now they’re letting me stay here. I know I’m paying them for the first favor, but I really hate other people carrying my burdens.

I pull up the grocery delivery app and place an order for everything I need to make spaghetti and meatballs from scratch. I get the nice pasta and add in a chunk of parmesan for them. I won’t be able to put it in the sauce like my mom always did, but they can have some on top.

By the time the groceries arrive, I’m already planning out the timing. Nothing says thank you like a home-cooked meal, and cooking has always been my therapy. The familiar rhythm of chopping green onions and garlic settles my nerves and soothes some of my guilt.

Honestly, it’s a little sad how I’m more upset at putting these guys out than I am about ending things with Matt. Guess my heart already knew it was over long before I did.

I’m rolling the last batch of meatballs between my palms when I hear the rumble of the garage door. My stomach flutters. I’ve been around these guys a lot, though never alone like this, never in their domain. The sound of boots hitting the garage floor echoes through the house, followed by what sounds like someone wrestling with work gear. I can hear them talking but can’t make out the words. I give all of my focus to shaping the meatballs to distract myself from the nerves swimming in my gut.