Page 93 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
It takes more than an hour to get down to the main road, and when we do my heart sinks.
Jack stops the truck long enough to give Reece the chance to stick his body half out of the window and wave at me.
I laugh despite my quickly plummeting mood, and then they’re gone.
Just like that.
The taillights of Jack’s truck fade, swallowed by the curve of the road.
By the time I pull into my street, the world around me feels almost too…still.
The rush of the weekend retreating like a tide I’m not at all prepared to deal with.
It has me sighing.
I’m not expecting anyone to be at my place, which is why I freeze when I see a familiar figure waiting for me inside the lobby.
“Mallory?”
My best friend looks up so fast I’m almost afraid her neck might snap.
She hops up from the rickety chair she’s squeezed herself in, her expression tight while her phone is clutched in her hand.
“Finally! I was about to call the cops if you didn’t come home by today.
Your mom told me you got stuck up at that cabin, but she didn’t say when you’d get back.”
I smile. “Aw, miss me that much?”
She huffs, shoving me lightly. “Not funny. You really freaked me out with that SOS text.”
Shit, I totally forgot about that.
“Sorry, Mal. I meant to call you. But, you know…the storm.” My hand waves next to me as the vague lie rolls off my tongue.
Hopefully she doesn’t pick it apart or press me on why I probably still look half-fucked.
Before I left the cabin, I managed to squeeze in a shower, but I doubt I look all that presentable.
Thankfully, she doesn’t call me out on it. Yet. “Well, I came around to tell you something.”
A pit opens in my stomach.
My bag slips slightly on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
She exhales hard. “Well, I came by to bang down your door to make sure you were still alive and ran into your landlord from the bakery.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, my shoulders inching up. “And?”
“He said he was looking to talk to you. Handed me this,” she pulls something out of her pocket, crumbled up with one of the corners folded.
As soon as I unfold it, my heart sinks.
The pleasantness from the weekend drains out so fast my knees nearly buckle.
A notice from Mr. Larkin.
Wanting to know when I’m going to be stopping by to give him the first portion of what I owe.
