Page 5 of One Good Puck (Denver Bashers #5)

Abby

“ W hat?” My voice is practically a shriek. I glance around. Thankfully, I’m the only one by the bathrooms.

I step farther into the darkened hallway and lower my voice.

“Howard, what do you mean I have to move? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You’re a perfect tenant. Renting to you has been wonderful. But my arthritis is getting bad, Abby. Real bad. I just can’t do the things I need to do as a landlord anymore, and on my fixed income as a retiree, I can’t afford to hire someone.”

My heart sinks. Howard is in his mid-seventies.

He’s the sweetest man and a kind, reliable landlord.

I’ve lived in the duplex next door to him for the past three years.

Any time I have a maintenance issue, he’s fixed it that day or the next.

And he doesn’t charge me the market price of rent because he says I’m a great tenant, and because the duplex hasn’t been updated in a decade.

But I’ve definitely noticed how much he’s aged in the last year. He’s been moving slower. He drops things more often. It makes sense why he can’t work as a landlord anymore.

“I’m putting the whole unit up for sale and moving in with my son’s family,” Howard says. He sniffles. “I’m so sorry to lose you, Abby. But I hope you understand.”

I let out a sad sigh. “Of course I understand.” I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. “I’m glad you’re moving in with your son.”

“I am too. I know this is sudden, but I wanted to give you enough time to look for a new place. I know it’s not much consolation, but I’m happy to give you references to your new landlord. You’re a dream tenant.”

I stare at the wall, a sad smile pulling at my mouth. “Thanks, Howard. I appreciate it.”

He apologizes again, and we say goodbye. When I end the call, I’m feeling stressed and sad and panicked all at once. But I’m too overwhelmed to do anything, so I just stay slumped against the wall, staring ahead at nothing in particular.

My head spins as I think of what to do next. I’ll need to find an apartment soon. But every place in a decent neighborhood is out of my price range.

I could move back in with my parents. They have a small two-bedroom, one-bathroom house in the suburbs. They’d let Emma and me move in without hesitation, but it would be such a burden on them. They’d have to give up so much space for us.

And who knows how long it would take for me to save enough money to get a place of my own. I have an emergency savings account, but that’s for when Emma has a medical expense or I need to fix the car. I don’t want to sacrifice that safety net for a new apartment.

What am I going to do?

“Everything okay?”

Gavin’s low, rumbly voice is a shock to my system. I stand up and quickly wipe at the tears just starting to fall down my cheeks.

When I look up, he’s standing a half-dozen feet from me.

“Um, uh…yeah.” I sniffle and step aside so I’m out of his way. “Sorry, you’re probably trying to use the restroom.”

I move to walk past him, but he stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. “I’m not actually. I just needed a quiet place to check my voicemail.” His brow furrows in concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nod. It’s an instinct at this point, after years of holding it together as a single mom, always telling people that I’ve got everything under control, even though sometimes I feel like I’m drowning.

Like right now, when I’m going to lose my home in not even two months.

I stop nodding, stop fighting, stop pushing everything down somewhere deep where I can’t get to it. I let myself cry.

I look up at Gavin, his eyes wide with worry and panic. Poor guy. He’s probably freaked out at witnessing my breakdown.

“I’m not okay,” my voice breaks.

For a second, I just stand there, Gavin’s face blurry through my tears. I’m about to turn around and head for the ladies’ room so I can have my emotional breakdown in private, but then I feel warmth on my arms.

Gavin wraps his massive arms around me and pulls me against his chest. He hugs me tight and says, “Come here,” in the softest, sweetest voice .

I’ve never heard his voice sound like this before. So warm. So comforting. It feels like someone’s wrapping the thickest, coziest blanket around me.

I rest the side of my face against his chest, relaxing into his embrace. Instantly, I feel calmer.

I’m going to regret this later, letting him see me break down like this. I know I will. But right now, I don’t care about that. Right now, all I want is to stay cuddled in Gavin’s arms.