Just My Luck (The Kings)

The early summer sun heated my shoulders as I walked across the blackened shell of what used to be my granddad’s living room. Taking it all in was surprisingly cathartic. After all the times I’d driven past the shell of our former safe haven, I had learned to ignore it. I had shoved down the fear and the heartache. Now there was no ignoring the acrid smell of burned plastic and wood and the hint of rot after the home had been exposed to the elements.

We all need a fresh start.

“Be careful of your footing,” Beckett Miller warned me and his wife, Kate, as we surveyed the property. Much of the debris had been cleared during the investigation, and only a few walls were still upright.

I nodded and carefully stepped over a burned-up lump of something. “The fire department and police cleared the scene, but it’s kind of an explore-at-your-own-risk situation.”

My toe kicked a partially metal frame that used to contain a picture of me holding the twins. My stomach soured.

“The assessment from the structural engineer came back.” Based on Beckett’s soft tone, I assumed it wasn’t good news. “Unfortunately, the home is going to have to be considered a total loss.” He looked at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Sloane.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wasn’t really surprised by the news, but I’d still held out a shred of hope. “I understand.”

Kate pointed to a far wall that had remained standing despite the fire. “What about the brick?”

Beckett nodded. “That’s our silver lining. If we take on the project, I believe there are several aspects of the original structure that we can use in a new build.” Excitement built in his eyes as he gestured toward a small table outside on the lawn, and we followed him out. “I dug into the archives at the Remington County Historical Association.”

Once we reached the table, Beckett fingered through a few sheets of paper, bringing forward several black-and-white photos. He pointed at a picture of my granddad’s farmhouse, only it looked slightly different. “It was an impressive home. For the time, it would have been a gorgeous estate.”

Kate sighed, her finger sweeping across the covered porch that wrapped around the building. “Look at that porch. It wraps all the way around for a double entrance. And the scallop details on the roof fascia paired with the wood-slat soffit? Stunning.”

I looked closely at the photograph. “The porch wasn’t as big. It had two smaller staircases to the entrances.” I pointed to the small crumbling, burned staircase that remained. “That led to a little vestibule or something, and the other led to the kitchen.”

Kate nodded. “It was common in the eighties and nineties to separate everything. Split levels were all the rage at that time and, unfortunately, older homes like these were hacked apart to fit the aesthetic. I’m sure the interior was similarly remodeled.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking.” Beckett’s evident enthusiasm captured our attention. “We have a real opportunity to return this home to its former glory. While we will never be able to give you back the house that is gone, we can provide a home that feels as though it was built in the eighteen hundreds—only with updated touches and modern conveniences. Kate and I will work to incorporate any salvageable parts of the original house, but create your family something that is completely new. Yours. It will be something that will stand the test of time for future generations.”

I held my breath as his words sank in. I looked out to the burned remains of the farmhouse. The idea that anyone could take something so damaged—so ruined—and see past the rubble to the beauty at its core was arresting. He may not have realized it, but it was the perfect parallel to my own life and what I was desperately trying to do for my children.

There was still a chance to take bits and pieces of my past and rebuild them into something magical—something better than I could have ever hoped for.

Kate gripped her husband’s arm. It was clear they were both excited about the prospect of taking on this job. I took a split second to check in with my gut and grinned.

I stuck my hand out between them. “Mr. and Mrs. Miller . . . you’re hired!”

Kate grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug with a delighted squeal. “I am so excited about this! I have so many ideas.”

Tears pricked my eyes. If it weren’t for Abel agreeing to marry me, I could never have accessed my trust fund. I knew I had to find a way to make it up to him—to make the lie worth it in the end.

This is really happening.

I glanced across the yard. The cabin was barely visible down the path and through the trees, but my heart ached. It was going to take work to pick up the pieces after the fire, but I could do this for my granddad and prove to myself that Jared could knock me down, but I would always stand back up.

Beckett began shuffling the paperwork on the table as he packed to leave. “If it’s official, I can start drafting plans.”

Kate wrapped her arm around my shoulder, and my heart clunked. “So, Sloane, how do you feel about being on television?”

ABEL

You’re late for work.

Am I fired?

Yes.

Fantastic. My boss was the WORST.

That’s not what you told him last night.

I grinned down at my phone and scrambled through Abel’s house to find my keys and purse. He’d known my meeting with the Millers might make me late for my shift, but it still made my tummy flutter that he cared enough to keep tabs on me.

Maybe it meant that he missed me. I missed him too.

We were still waiting on JP to draw up the paperwork for the brewery acquisition, and I knew Abel was getting antsy. Neither of us knew why his brother was dragging his feet with the deal. Most days, I didn’t let it bother me, because it meant more time in our little bubble pretending.

Nothing’s changed.

It had been weeks since those words slipped past my lips, and I still regretted them. Sure, what I had meant was that going from broke and desperate to a literal trust fund baby didn’t change who I was on the inside. The immediate hurt that had flashed across Abel’s face haunted me. In the heat of the moment, he’d stuffed it down, but there was no denying that it had been there.

Since then, I was still too chickenshit to admit that I was falling in love with my husband. After the deal went through and the brewery was his, there was no need to continue tying himself to me. Once our agreement was satisfied, I didn’t want him to feel guilt or shame or beholden to me in any way.

Still, I didn’t know how I was going to ever let him go.

Flying through the house, I put those thoughts on a shelf and would have to deal with them later. I was already late. I breezed past the table and into the kitchen. Abel and I had spent another night tangled in the bedsheets, and my ass was dragging. A coffee to go was the only way I was going to make it through my afternoon shift at the brewery without falling asleep in someone’s beer.

I yanked open the cabinet and pulled down a ceramic travel mug and lid. I made quick work of dumping in too much creamer and popping in a new pod of coffee before pressing the button to start the brew. Hurrying down the hallway, I had planned to check my makeup one last time when something in the hall bathroom caught my attention.

I stopped, facing forward, unable to make myself look into the bathroom. I swallowed hard and turned my head. My vision narrowed and a whooshing sound filled my ears, my heart thundering. Breaths sawed in and out of me as I stared at the open shower curtain.

Isn’t it better to have them open? You never know if someone’s hiding behind it.

The hair on my neck stood on end, and my fingertips tingled as I listened to the silence of the empty house. I stepped forward, my eyes never leaving the portion of the tub still covered by the shower curtain. I walked into the bathroom, my pulse thrumming at the base of my neck. My ears pricked, but I heard nothing. My eyes scanned the tub. I prayed it was empty and that my imagination was simply running wild.

When I reached the tub, I reached my hand out and gripped the shower curtain, clamping my teeth together as I checked to find the tub empty. The scrape of metal across the bar shrieked as I yanked the curtain closed.

Surely one of the kids had left it open after their showers last night, and I simply hadn’t noticed. Kids did that shit all the time.

Right?

Unease rolled through me. Suddenly my safe haven, with its large windows and long backyard, felt isolated yet exposed.

Secluded.

Forgetting my coffee, I dashed toward the unlocked front door, then threw it open and yanked it closed behind me. I fumbled with my keys to unlock my car, and I raced toward it at lightning speed. The early-afternoon sun beat down on me as I tugged on my seat belt and peeled out of the driveway.

In the rearview, Abel’s sweet little ranch faded into the background. By the time I hit Main Street, my breaths had evened out, and I had almost convinced myself I was imagining things. Surely there was no way Jared would have somehow entered Abel’s house and then left the shower curtain open just to mess with me.

It was ridiculous.

Still, nerves simmered under my skin for the rest of the afternoon. I dropped a glass, got orders wrong, and searched the faces of our customers—all without being able to shake the feeling I was being watched.

Dark clouds seemed to hang over Abel’s head as he grumbled behind the bar, and it assured me I was doing a shit job of holding myself together. I kept myself busy with customers and avoided him as best as I could.

Before I could sneak away to the employee bathroom, Abel found me in the back hall. “You okay?”

I looked around. “Me?”

He stared at me with a blank look. Of course he meant me. “Oh, I’m good. Just a weird day, I think.”

Softness overtook his grumpy features. “Is it about the farmhouse?”

I offered a noncommittal hum.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

I wasn’t ready to tell him that my ex may or may not have been in his house. I still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t simply my mind playing tricks on me or a tiny case of misplaced paranoia.

Abel wrapped me in a hug. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

I wanted to believe him, so I closed my eyes tight and hugged him fiercely.

“Okay, lovebirds.” Reina wagged a finger in our direction. “Are you going to be disappearing on me all shift?”

I smiled. “Nope! Someone else is your problem tonight. I’m headed out.” I turned toward Abel. “Are you staying late?”

His dark eyes softened. “Meatball and I have some work in the back, but I shouldn’t be too late. Wait up for me?”

I batted my lashes. “I guess.” When I turned, Abel rewarded me with a smack on the ass. I yelped and laughed, our playful banter setting me at ease for the first time all afternoon.

“Oh, and Sloane?” I turned to see Abel smiling shyly and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Give the kids a hug for me, will you?”