Page 1 of Fragile Hearts (Hibiscus Hearts #3)

It’s been a long day when I finally pull into the gravel driveway in front of the house. Between an early morning at work and classes all afternoon, all I want to do is eat dinner and crawl into bed.

I look over at the passenger seat, the leftovers from my lunch waiting to be eaten for dinner, and I hate that I still carry over this habit.

Growing up poor and then a foster kid, I never knew when my next meal would be.

It could literally be just a few hours later or it could be days.

I never eat my whole lunch, saving half of it for dinner.

One of the perks of my job working at the front desk of Orchid Bay Resort is that I get free meals, meals I still stupidly save and make last. I often wonder if this will ever go away.

It’s been a year, and I still do it, but I remind myself, this has been a damn good year.

A year where it’s just me. No check-ins from a family services worker, no jumping from foster home to foster home, no creepy men, no sleepless nights.

But as soon as I step out of the car, I see it. There on the front door of the house I share with my best friend Daisy, is that neon orange sticker, one I know all too well, and without warning, my heart rate spikes and I feel the threat of tears sting my nose.

“No, no, no,” I cry out to the empty area surrounding the house. “Please, no.”

Begging will do me no good. It’s already there, plastered on the door for anyone to see, and holy shit, is it triggering.

I’ve been here way too many times in my life, and I really thought after moving in with Alana and Daisy, things would be better. There would be some consistency, some stability and this would be a place I could call home, even if it was just a rental.

My sadness quickly turns to anger, and I rip the sticker off the door, the word “eviction” stuck to my hand, and I shake, trying to get it to release itself.

“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling it too, but it sticks to my other hand, and this is something I know too well also. These damn stickers are made with industrial glue, so they don’t blow off the door, letting the tenant use that as an excuse.

Next to that neon orange sticker is a note from our landlord, and as apologetic as it is, it doesn’t matter. Unless it’s an envelope filled with two grand, I don’t give a fuck what it says.

“What a fucking coward,” I hiss, snatching the note off the door, crumbling it in my hand along with the orange sticker.

Sorry girls.

Sold the land to a developer.

I tried to get more than 30 days, but they want you out.

George Lang

Thirty days. We have one month to find a place to live, and while that sounds like a lot of time, it’s not for someone like me who doesn’t even have two pennies to scrape together, who is eating half a lunch for dinner on a regular basis.

How the hell am I supposed to get a first and last month’s rent for a deposit? How the hell am I supposed to find a place that isn’t six times my paycheck?

I flop down on the paint-chipped front steps, the note from Mr. Lang and that orange sticker now a little round ball in my palm.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I wonder where Daisy is.

I figured she’d be home by now, and maybe she has been.

She probably isn’t going to have this type of reaction to this.

She has her family here; she can go live with her mom or her sister, and if she’s really desperate, she has Miles and Kai.

They’ll let her move in with them. They might even let me move in too.

But then I think about Mochi, my little fluffy baby, the dog that Alana brought home one day, who took a liking to me over all of us.

Desperate now for a place to live, I can’t be choosy and demand they let me bring my dog.

Even if he is basically my emotional support animal, sleeping with me and greeting me with gusto every time I come home.

I open the front door, and with that, Mochi comes charging out, running in circles around my legs, waiting for me to pick him up.

Scooping him up in my arms, I sit back down on the porch steps, Mochi settling into my lap. I text Daisy, willing myself not to start crying.

Me: Where are you?

Daisy: Omw. Be home in five.

There’s that word.

Home.

I swallow hard, pushing back the tears. I’m not going to cry. It’s why I never called this place my home. It’s a house, and again I remind myself of this. Don’t get attached.

Don’t get attached to a house.

Don’t get attached to a job.

Don’t get attached to people.

The fact that I’ve let Alana and Daisy in is a huge deal for me. I don’t have friends because people leave even when they say they care. I’ve dealt with this over and over again in my life, and it’s because of shit like this.

I’m still sitting on the steps when Daisy pulls up, hopping out of the car with her perfect smile on display, unaware that we’re about to be homeless.

It’s obviously not the first time this has happened to me.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Daisy calls, her smile dropping when she gets close enough to see my face.

“This,” I reply, holding up the balled-up orange sticker.

“What’s that?”

I can see the confusion on Daisy’s face, and I’m glad she doesn’t have a clue what it means. I wouldn’t wish this feeling on my worst enemy, and it’s hard for me not to want to push Daisy away, to keep her from having to deal with this.

“We’re being evicted,” I tell her, the words coming out as a choked cry, and the tears spill over. Mochi lets out a whine, hating that I’m crying. His little pink tongue pokes out, trying to lick away the tears.

Fuck my life.

I’m tired of this shit.

“Evicted?” Daisy screeches, her brow furrowed, confusion blanketing her face. “How? We aren’t behind on rent.”

“Yeah, I know, but Mr. Lang sold the house, and the developer who bought it wants us out in thirty days.” It all comes out in a rush, the tears making it hard to understand.

“Thirty days?” Daisy echoes, and I nod. “That’s not so bad.”

This is where having family to fall back on helps. Thirty days to her isn’t a big deal. She’ll pack up her stuff and go live with her sister or her mother. She can’t comprehend what it feels like to be me, and again, I don’t ever want her to know what that feels like.

Daisy sits down next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders, her head resting against mine. She lets out a hard sigh.

“I can ask my sister if you can move in too,” she says, sweetly. “That’s probably where I’m going to go.”

“That’s okay. She doesn’t have the room for both of us. I’ll figure something out.”

I don’t want to rely on anyone. I’m doing this myself, and it’s not out of stubbornness or selfishness, but because I’ve spent all my life relying on other people who just let me down.

“You sure?” Daisy asks, her words soft, and again I nod.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie, not wanting this to be something she has to carry too. It’s not Daisy’s job to take care of me or make sure I have a place to live.

I’m nineteen, and while most people my age are still figuring things out, I don’t have that luxury. I have to do it all myself. Between paying rent, working and going to school, it’s all on me.

And I keep telling myself it won’t always be this way. It’s the reason I’m going to college and working. One day, it will pay off.

It’s just that today is not that day.

I swipe at my eyes, shoving away the tears that want to keep falling. But I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself. I need to find a place to live, and I need to come up with money for a deposit, and once again, my life is back to living day by day.

“I’m gonna go see Alana,” I say, needing to get away from this place.

“Okay, I’ll be here when you get home.”

I cringe at the word “home.” I don’t know if there will ever be a place I call home when shit like this can happen.

I get back in my car, watching Daisy walk in the front door with Mochi, closing it behind her, and all it does is make me want to run.

It makes me want to never come back here. I want to disappear and start over in a place where no one knows me, where no one knows I have nothing.

But that isn’t an option.

I drive over to The Pipe Dream, knowing Alana should be home, living in the little guest house behind the shop. Ever since she and Flynn made things official, she moved in with him, living her happily ever after. She deserves it. She deserves all the love and success that has happened to her.

The lights are still on in the shop when I pull up out front, parking in the little gravel lot on the side. I exit and head in through the front door.

As soon as I walk through the door, I’m met with Owen and his stupidly adorable face. He’s always so damn happy, smiling and laughing, all low-key and aloof.

Must be nice to be him.

To never have to worry about anything.

Especially money.

“Hey, Sloane,” he calls out, practically beaming when he sees me. “What’s going on?”

“Alana here?” I ask without really acknowledging him.

“She’s in the back checking in a stock shipment,” he says, tossing a thumb in that direction, but when I look over at him, he narrows his eyes. “You been crying?”

He sounds concerned, and by the look on his face, he is, but he doesn’t need to know about any of this. He might be all about trying to win me over, pursuing me with sweet little things like flowers left at my house, or asking me to dinner, not that I’ve ever acted on any of it.

If anything, I keep him at arm’s length. I’m sure as soon as he learns who I really am, he’ll run the other way. Right now, all he sees is a pretty blonde with a cute body who can surf. He has no idea the baggage I carry, baggage he’ll never understand.

Turning away from him, I head to the back of the shop, pulling back the curtain that hides the stockroom from the sales floor.

“Hey!” Alana squeals, dropping the clipboard as she comes over to me, giving me a hug.

It’s something she’s always done, something that started when I would show up for the after-school surf program.

It was how I ended up moving in with Alana when I aged out of foster care.

We became friends, and she was the first person I shared my fears about my future with.

She took me in and has helped me ever since.

“Daisy and I are being evicted, and I have nowhere to go,” I wail, knowing Alana is the only person I’m like this with. “And Mochi, can you keep him till I find someplace to live? Someplace that allows dogs?”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“Mr. Lang sold the house, and the developers want us out. Alana, where the fuck am I supposed to go?”

She knows how triggering this is for me, the idea of being homeless is something I’ve talked to her about before, and how it really fucked me up.

It’s also how I ended up in foster care. At least that’s how I remember it.

And just as Alana is about to say something, I hear Owen’s voice, and what he says has Alana and me looking at him like he’s lost his fucking mind.

“You can move in with me.”