Page 20 of Bittersweet Redemption

A few beats later, he unlocks the door in nothing by gray sweatpants that sit low on his hips and showcase the defined V leading down to. . . Holy Mother of God. Why am I here again?

“You done?” His voice breaks into my naughty thoughts.

“Done with what?” I croak without breaking eye contact with his bare chest.

“Gawking.”

My cheeks flush. Oh my god. Right. The chair. I’m here about the chair. I don’t bother telling him I wasn’t staring because I very clearly was. He already thinks I’m a pathological liar, so I ignore his comment as best I can.

“Did you get me this?” I ask, holding up the black chair.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

So, he did give it to me. “Why did you get me a chair?”

“Because you needed one.”

I pause, attempting to make my heartbeat slow down. “Oh. That was thoughtful of you.”

“Not really. If you get bitten by ants, I’m the one that’s going to have to listen to you screeching about it. I got it purely for my own peace of mind.”

“I do not screech,” I defend lamely.

“Yeah, ok. Do you not remember the insane sound that came out of your mouth when you got stung by a bee?”

“It was two bees, thank you very much. And no, I don’t remember what sounds I made. I was too busy being stung.”

“It was a screech.”

I sigh. “Well, thank you for this.”

“Yep,” he says, then takes a step back and shuts the door in my face.

Chapter 10

Willa

When my weather app alerted me of a flood watch, I didn’t believe it, but this has to be the most rain I’ve ever seen. I can barely see out of my windshield, even with my wipers at full speed. It’s been raining on and off all day, and I thought I had a big enough break in the storms to make it to the store and back without getting caught in the torrential downpour, but I was incredibly wrong.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Roman says from the back seat.

“It’s alright, baby. We’re almost home.” I squint to see out the windshield. I’ve got my hazards on and am going way below the speed limit, but I’m scared to stop because I don’t want someone to hit me.

My grip loosens around the steering wheel when I finally turn down our street. We’re almost there. I hear a loud whooshing sound, and the car sways in the wind. My stomach clenches, and a bad feeling blooms in my chest. I don’t know how to explain it, but something doesn’t feel right. I’m just about to turn into our driveway when I see it.

It’s like I’m watching it in slow motion. The branch from one of the biggest, thickest trees in our backyard slowly breaks off and falls directly on the backside of our roof. Right where the kitchen is. I thought the tree looked dead when we moved in, but my landlord assured me it was fine. Clearly, he was wrong.

I slam on my brakes in the driveway and put the car in park, my heart racing.

“Mommy, what happened?” Roman asks.

I can’t seem to catch my breath. We could’ve been in there. Roman and I could’ve been seriously injured or. . . worse. “A tree fell on our house,” I tell him in a daze. It feels weird to say that out loud.

I’ve seen things like this happen to people on the news, but I never thought it would happen to me. I mean, of all the things I imagined going wrong in my life, a tree falling on my house wasn’t one of them. My karma is really hitting back in full swing these days. Give me one good thing and pile two bad things on top.

We sit in the car until the rain lets up, and I can see the house more clearly. What am I supposed to do? Do I call someone? I think I’m in shock. I’m not ready to be in these kinds of adult situations. I don’t do well in times of crisis. But it’s not just me I have to worry about; I’ve got to think about Roman. I’ve got to be strong for him.

I take a deep breath and grab my phone. I pull up my landlord’s number and hit call.