you agreed?"
"What else was I gonna do?" I said. "You already know that Jason stood me up, which meant that I had no place to stay. And you remember what happened with my car."
Just last month, I'd sold it to send Jason more money – payment for some sort of plumbing issue, something that according to Jason couldn't wait.
Now, I wanted to kick myself. God, what a total waste.
Thanks to my own stupidity, I had no house, no car, and maybe fifty bucks total in my purse.
When Cami's only reply was a string of non-curses, I continued, "So really, whether he realized it or not, Brody was actually doing me a favor by making me stay here."
"Oh yeah?" she shot back. "And what about him? Is he staying there, too?"
"You mean Brody? Actually, I don't know. Maybe he is. Or maybe he went back to his condo."
"Wait," Cami said. "He owns a condo, too?"
"Supposedly. I mean, that's what he said." I sighed. "And I'm sure it's true. Cripes, he probably owns half the town."
With obvious concern, Cami said, "So you don't even know if he's staying with you?"
"No, I don't," I replied. "Last night, all I wanted was to be alone. What Brody was doing, I had no idea. And I sure as heck wasn't gonna ask him."
The reason for this was obvious. By then, I'd had more than enough humiliation for one night.
If I'd asked Brody anything about where he planned to sleep, he surely would've assumed that I was hitting on him or something – because yes, he was that arrogant.
Cami said, "But you at least locked the door, right?"
"To the bedroom?" I flopped over on the bed and gave the door a quick glance. Oh yeah, I'd locked it, alright. But probably, that was a waste, too. As I'd seen firsthand, a locked door would hardly keep Brody out.
Still, I assured Cami that I was being careful and finished by promising her another update after Brody and I talked.
After we ended the call, I got up, trudged into the small private bathroom, and prepared to face him.
Using toiletries from my own duffle bag, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I threw on fresh clothes and even a little makeup – not because I wanted to impress him, but rather because it's what I normally did before venturing out.
Turns out, it was all for nothing.
Other than myself, the house was empty.
Standing in the modest kitchen, I took a quick look around.
Thanks to the home's location – directly across the street from my grandparent's place – I'd seen this house plenty of times from the outside. It was a tidy ranch-style home with three bedrooms, maybe four.
As far as the exact number, I wasn't sure. I mean, it's not like I started opening doors or anything.
Still, I remained fairly certain that the house was empty. It felt empty, even if it did smell like bacon. My mouth watered at the mere thought, and I couldn't stop myself from opening the fridge, just to check.
No bacon.
In fact, the fridge was completely empty, except for maybe a dozen bottles of water.
Well, that was disappointing.
With a sigh, I closed the fridge and turned away. As I did, I spotted a note taped to the oven. The note was written in big, bold handwriting. It said, "For Clara."
I frowned. Clara? As in Clara Cooper, my fake name?
Slowly, I walked to the oven and opened the door just a crack. The oven was slightly warm and smelled so bacony that my breath caught.
On the oven's top rack, there was a silver takeout tray covered in foil. With primal longing, I stared at the thing. It could only be for me, right?
Still, I didn't want to assume anything, especially when it came to Brody. Reluctantly, I closed the oven door and took another look at the note. At the very bottom, in the same hand-writing – only much smaller – there was a very tiny P.S.
It said, "Yeah, I mean you. Don't overthink it."
It was vintage Brody, and I fought a sudden, stupid urge to smile.
Even when he did something nice, he managed to make me just a little bit crazy.
But hey, I wasn't complaining. Bacon was bacon.
With unseemly haste, I yanked open the oven and reached inside. The container was warm, but not hot. When I tore off the lid, I saw bacon, scrambled eggs, and even buttered toast.
Oh, man.
Without bothering to sit down or search for silverware, I devoured the breakfast