Page 4 of Bloom

Odette accepts it with an appreciative noise, taking a loud sip that she barely waits to swallow before too-casually saying, “I saw your bags behind the counter.”

My hands freeze on their way to pick up my own mug.

“Going somewhere?”

“No. I'm just moving.” Into a hotel. Or an AirBnB. Or, more realistically, my unlockable car, at least for tonight.

Anywhere is better than that house.

“Caroline.” Odette tuts quietly, looking at me in that way that really makes me think she can read my mind. “If you need help, you can ask me.”

I do, but I won’t. She's already helped me enough. She gave me this job. She lets me practically run the place, despite my lack of any real qualifications. She cleared a spot on the display shelves for my mediocre crafts. I can’t let her house me too.

The woman I consider a pseudo-grandmother regards me for a long moment. Bringing the mug to her lips again, she casts her gaze around the glorified crawl space we stand in. “You know, I used to live here when I first bought this place. My George was born here.”

Despite the nostalgia softening her weathered features, I still see the concealed cunning of an idea falling into place, and I regard her warily. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s still liveable. Full bathroom, a working kitchen, a bed.” Eyes that permanently crinkle around the edges land on me again, one gray brow lifting. “And a great commute to work.”

The offer is so thinly veiled, I don’t even attempt to pretend I miss it. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I don’t have a more eloquent answer than that; I just can’t.

Sighing, Odette sets her mug down. Wrapping one hand around my wrist, she clutches dramatically at her chest with the other, and adopts an entirely pathetic pout. “Please, Line. My old heart can’t handle worrying about you being out on the street. You wouldn't want an old woman to fret, would you?”

Internally, I roll my eyes.Manipulativeold woman.

Beneath the manipulation though, genuine concern lurks. It tugs at my heart, having more of an effect than the actualmanipulation tactics do—turns out, I hate worrying people almost as much as I hate burdening them.

Turns out, I have even less of a backbone than I thought I did.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I try my hardest to look stern. “I need to pay rent.”

As expected, Odette shakes her head.“No, you—”

“Ineedto pay rent.” I can't freeload off her. I won't bethatmuch of a burden.

Rolling her lips together, Odette stares at me defiantly, silently willing me to fold. When I don't—God, do I get close, though—she huffs, but her expression is soft as she squeezes my arm gently. “We'll figure something out.”

2

The entire family goes out of town.

He doesn’t enjoy the quiet as much as he thought he would.

The sun has barely risen,and I've already messed up.

I'd been optimistic this morning, when I woke up with a good gut feeling and a solid weather forecast. That optimism carried me the whole way to Sequoia National Park and through the start of one of the easier trails. And then, that optimism promptly died when the sun started shining a little more harshly, and I realized I'd forgotten to bring a hat. Or bug spray. Or sunscreen.

Rookie freaking mistake, Caroline.

My breath leaves me in deep pants, the ragged sound accompanied by chirping birds and gravel crunching beneath my feet as I trudge along the path. I swear, I used to be able to do this trail in my sleep—that was half the reason I picked it. I walked this route regularly before I got so caught up with the store and helping Lux around the ranch and a million otherthings that took priority in life over hiking. Sure, it’s been a while, but I thought I could pick up where I left off.

As usual, I thought very, very wrong.

But even as my lungs strain and my calves ache and a nasty blister brews on my heel, it feels good to be out here. To be back. I missed the weekend outdoor ritual that started with my mom, took a long hiatus after she passed, and picked up again in my senior year when my life pretty much imploded and I realized Bloom wasn’t enough to occupy all the time I suddenly had on my hands, nor was it a great place to hide. Back then, I was eighteen and limber with a whole lot of anxious energy to burn, and even more motivation to disappear for a few hours.

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