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I lived in a trailer with four other women; I can figure out how to make the most of this space. I can sleep on the couch if necessary, but… I check out the mattress propped against the wall, running my hands up and down each side. Where I expect to feel sodden fabric, I only find dry softness.

Huh.

That unexpected piece of luck means I can sleep on the mattress in the living room. I maneuverer it away from the wall and pull it along the floorboards. It’s heavy, but it’s moving. My muscles are still sore from doing… everything with Byron last night. Images flash through my mind. It was so incredible and dirty and freeing. I half expected people to stop me and ask me what happened, because I’m sure I look different to how I looked yesterday. Sex with Byron altered my biology—I’m just not sure how yet.

I pause and pull down the neck of my shirt to reveal the hickey that he left me. It’s still there. I shudder at the image of his determined mouth over my breast, his large hands holding me in place.

I don’t want what we started to stop, but I don’t know how we can keep moving forward either. I don’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire. Byron and Frank are completely different in so many ways, but they also have things in common. They’re both much more established, powerful, and wealthy than me. For all the ways Byron made me feel amazing last night, I don’t like the feel of an uneven power dynamic. It’s uncomfortably familiar, even in the afterglow of what we shared.

I give the mattress a tug and slide it into the living room. There’s not enough space to lay it down, so I spend the next hour configuring and reconfiguring the couch, dining room table and chairs, and side tables. Partly, I want the mattress to fit, and also, I like that I can decide where. Our trailer was too small for anyone to have a choice about where things went, but even if we’d lived in a mansion, Mom would have made all the decisions. Frank was very particular about his place, too. I was only ever a guest at the house that was meant to become my home. It never felt like a place where I could move the furniture around.

Finally I settle on putting the dining room table flush against the back of the sofa. It’s not like I’m throwing any dinner parties anytime soon. I really only need to use one chair. Then I put the side tables either side of the sofa, leaving me plenty of room for the mattress against the wall of the living room.

I put my hands on my hips and survey the new arrangement. My chest lifts with pride. It feels good to solve a problem on my own, even if it’s just a problem of interior design.

Someone knocks on the front door, and I jump.

“It’s Mike,” a man’s voice says through the front door.

“And Beth,” a woman’s voice calls.

Shit. I just moved all their furniture around. I hope they’re not mad. I pull in a breath. I can move it back easily enough. I open the door. “Hi. I’m Rosey.”

“Hi, Rosey!” A woman with long dark hair and a really tall guy with blond curly hair grin at me. “We’re here to have a look at the roof. What a lot of rain, right?”

“For sure. Though I’m from Oregon, so…”

Beth laughs. “You thought you’d escaped, but you brought it with you.” She laughs again, but something about what she says makes me want to remember it later. “We’re going to take a look. That okay?”

Mike has a ladder, which he moves around to the side of the house. He holds it while Beth goes up. I hang back on the porch, scanning the area for Athena while I wait for the verdict.

“It’s stopped dripping inside,” I say. “I bought a dehumidifier since the ceiling’s still a bit damp.”

“Mike, you’re going to have to come up here,” Beth says. “Rosey, has someone been up here today?”

“Up on the roof? I don’t think so. I’ve been working all day, so I haven’t been here, but who would have been up there?”

“Maybe the damage just isn’t visible,” Mike says, climbing the ladder.

“No, someone’s put a membrane up here and sealed it. Look.”

Both of them move out of sight, but the sound of their voices suggest they’re happy with what they find. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep back in my bedroom before I have to abandon this place for staff housing.

I hear a cell going off and Mike answers. “Yeah, we’re just here. Ohhh, that’s real good of you. I appreciate that. Can we pay—” He listens to whoever is on the end of the phone. “Yeah, we have buckets all through our house at the moment. We really need a new roof. Maybe we’ll get to it this year. Okay then. I might swing by with a pie for you later. Thanks, Byron.”

My heart skips in my chest at the mention of Byron’s name.

Mike and Beth descend from the roof, all smiles. “Your neighbor there sent some of his men down from the Club to fix the roof.”

“Byron?” I ask.

“Said he had a few construction guys who weren’t busy, so he directed them to fix the roof of the cabin,” Mike says.

Byron’s trying to launch the Colorado Club on time. I can’t imagine his construction team has a bunch of free time, especially after the storm. I wonder if Byron just saved Mike and Beth, or me. In reality, he saved all of us. Though I’m grateful, worry pulls in my chest. I don’t want a man who feels like it’s his job to save me.

Beth grins. “I told you. He was always the nicest guy in high school.”

“I don’t remember him,” Mike says. “He’s been away a long time.”