Page 40 of Lemon Crush

“My life may be a disaster area, but it’s stillmylife,” she said, determination in every line of her face. “I’m going.”

It was pointless to argue and frankly, I didn’t need another mark against me at the moment.

“Fine. We’ll go together. That way I won’t have to make more than one trip.” I strode in the direction of the hall closet. “Where’s your raincoat?”

“I don’t have one.”

I stopped and turned, reminding myself not to blind her with my headlamp. “How can you not have a raincoat?”

“Because I lived in California and the songs say it never rains there,” she snapped, reaching up to give my wet shirt a tug. “Where’s yours?”

I’d left my slicker in the shop. And here I’d thought I was prepared for anything.

“We won’t melt. Let’s get those buckets before your house floats away.”

I tucked my head and pulled her in close as we ran through the rain, shoes splashing in the several inches of water on the concrete courtyard. She fumbled with the wet doorknob for a second andthen the wind blew the door halfway open, slamming it into whatever was behind it.

When we squeezed into the dark garage, I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be doing this if I weren’t here. I imagined her alone with no phone, no power, Niagara Falls in her living room and three animals to wrangle, and it made me see red. Logically, I knew she would have managed and that it was none of my business. But what I was feeling wasn’t logical. I wouldn’t have known she needed help, the same way I hadn’t known she was sick and nearly hospitalized until Morgan mentioned it in passing over dinner, after the fact. The way I hadn’t known she was having money problems and making plans to leave until that app pinged on my phone.

Whose fault is that?

Mine.

I’d been the one waiting for an opening to magically fucking appear instead of making my own and being the friend she needed, regardless of whether or not there could be anything more between us.

Digging around in the garage, we managed to come up with a hammer, some rusty roofing nails, a paint-splattered blue tarp and even a fan. When I spotted the extension cord and a battery-powered chainsaw near the lawnmower, a plan started taking shape. I quickly grabbed two power packs off the charger and hit a button on the battery to check the charge. “Jackpot.”

“No buckets,” August shouted over to me, holding up three clear storage tubs and wincing when another blast of thunder cracked through the rain.

“Even better.”

She moved closer and frowned at my pile. “What now?”

Her face in the lamplight looked pale and drawn, like she was holding herself together with Scotch tape and sheer will. I resistedthe urge to drag her into my arms and focused on the first problem in front of me.

“Now I go into the attic and try not to get myself killed.”

Her attention snapped to what was in my hand. “Tell me you’re not planning to take a chainsaw up there in the middle of a hurricane. Because that’s either the start of a very bad horror movie where the heroes are too stupid to live, or a blooper reel that ends bloody.”

“Think of it as emergency surgery. I need to cut that branch before we can cover your new skylight. Don’t worry, I’ve added insulation and replaced shingles at Bernie’s place more than once. I can manage this.” Probably. “Help me get everything into the house and then you can dry off while I make sure your ceiling doesn’t cave in before you call your insurance agent.”

When I looked at her, she answered before I could ask.

“I have insurance, Wade. Despite what everyone believes, I’m not completely incompetent.”

And now she was pissed again, pushing back her wet curls and tossing the things we’d collected into one of her storage tubs.

“I never said you were,” I said mildly. “Let’s go.”

After another soak in the blinding rain, she dumped the tubs on the kitchen floor and rushed into the laundry room down the hallway.

I followed a few paces behind her, grimacing at the sound my boots made as I dripped all over the wood floor. “Attic access?”

She tossed a towel over my shoulder and pointed up to the ceiling’s trap door just behind her. “Don’t fall through when you’re up there. One hole is enough for today.”

“Your concern is duly noted.”

I dried my hands and face, then stepped over to the hallway and pulled down the folding ladder leading to the attic. Clicking my headlamp on bright, I climbed the first few steps and lifted the chainsaw to slide it into the atticahead of me.

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