by Anna Brooks
FIXING FATE
A Pleasant Valley Novel
ANNA BROOKS
Copyright © 2017 Anna Brooks
Published by Anna Brooks
Cover design by Cover to Cover Designs
Editing by Editing4Indies
Formatting by Champagne Formats
Proofreading by Vivid Words Editing
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Other Books by Anna Brooks
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Previews
Chapter 1
Mellie
I should turn around right now. Go back to my nice, cozy apartment in the city where I can cuddle with my cat. Continue living my routine, normal, safe existence. But no, my conscience has me staying rooted. The run-down house in front of me is now my responsibility. Somehow.
My phone vibrates in the back pocket of my skinny jeans, so I pull it out and answer without looking because I already know who it is. Less than a handful of people have my number. “I’m here.”
“You were supposed to let me know you got there okay.”
I sigh at my older brother’s irritated tone. “Jay, I literally just got out of my car.”
He doesn’t apologize for being overbearing; he never has, and he never will. “How does it look?”
I take in the chipping blue paint, the missing porch rails, and the cracked windows. I can barely see the bottom of the house because the weeds are so overgrown. “Worse than I thought.”
“Damn. Are you sure you—”
“I’m not a child, Jay.” As much as I love him for looking out for me, I told him I’m ready to move on with my life. I hate that he questions me, but I suppose that’s what I get for relying on him so heavily in the past. “I’m twenty-two years old. I said I can take care of this, and I will.”
“I know that, but I don’t like you being so far away.”
“It’s only five hours.”
“I know that, too.”
I wait for him to relax. It’s understandable that he’d be nervous because I’ve never been so far away from him before. He is not only my brother, but he’s also my best friend, my protector. We recently found out that the grandfather who disowned my mom when she got pregnant with Jay at sixteen had passed away and left me his house. I didn’t even know he knew about me, so when the certified paper came in the mail from his attorney, I was shocked.
My job allows me to work from home, so my plan was to come up here, clean and empty the house, and then sell it. But after seeing that the front porch is crumbling, I’m thinking it will take more work than I originally anticipated.
Jay doesn’t say anything else, and I can almost feel the tension over the line. Sometimes he worries too much. “I need to go check out the damage. I’ll call you later.”
“Smith will be there tomorrow morning at eight.”
I bite my lip as I step closer to the house. “You’re sure he’s good? Because I’m telling you, Jay, this house is bad.”
“Yes, I’m sure. He’s the best at what he does”—he pauses—“and I trust him.”
His unspoken words give me the comfort I need deep down. Knowing he trusts this guy is something I needed to hear, even if I don’t admit it to him. I’ve never left my hometown, and I’ve damn sure never driven by myself and stayed in an unfamiliar city. Alone. Unprotected. “Okay.”
“He has a big crew. They should be able to fix everything pretty fast so you can come home. If I’m able to wrap up this damn case sooner, I’ll be there.” He’s been dealing with a big case, and when I ask him about it, he says he can’t tell me anything. He’s been with the Chicago P.D. since he was in his early twenties and was one of the youngest to make detective at thirty-one years old. The past couple of years have been insanely busy for him with his new position, but he loves what he does.
“I know you will. Shit, Jay. I might have to do an entire gut and remodel.” I turn my head at the sound of a car door to my left. A tall woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair waves at me and grabs groceries from her trunk. I wave back and cautiously make my way up to the porch. “I’m gonna go take a look inside.”
“Okay. Call me in a little while and let me know how it’s going.”
“Will do. Bye, Jay.”
“Bye, Mel. Stay safe.”
I tuck my phone back in my pocket and grab the key that the lawyer gave me from my purse. Skipping the bottom two rotten steps, I tiptoe to the front door and put the key in the rusty lock. After I unlock it, I have to shoulder the sticky door to get it open. I wasn’t aware that dust had a smell, but when the particles hit me in the face, I cough and back up. Peering inside, I notice there is no furniture. Weird.
Slamming the door, I say to myself, “Nope, not happening. Not tonight.” I’m tired from driving and don’t want to mess with this piece of junk right now. Getting in my car, I quickly head to a hotel instead of staying at the house as I originally planned.
I’m not all that happy with my situation, so I don’t want to start the cleanup of that disgusting house right now. I check into the hotel and go to my room. Then lock the door, slide the chain in place, and then wedge a chair under the knob.
My body relaxes into the bed, and as soon as I turn on the TV, my eyes close and I fall asleep.
* * *
“This is such bullshit.” I rip out a section of carpet in the living room and immediately drop it when a sharp prick stabs me in the finger. “Ouch, crap.” Frustrated more than ever, I feel tears of anger well in my eyes. First, Jay’s stupid friend never showed up to give me an estimate for how much it would cost his company to fix the damage. I tried to call Jay, but he didn’t answer. I’ve spent all day busting my ass and trying to make a small dent in anything I can because I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I want to go back home. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m dirty, and I just cut myself for the twentieth time today.
The rickety water pipes drown out the music coming from my iPod when I turn on the kitchen faucet to wash my hands. “Stupid, this is so stupid. I didn’t even know the guy. Why would he leave me a freakin’ house?” Clear water turns brown when dirt and blood rinse off my hands into the clogged basin. I scrub my hands,
taking out my frustration on my dirty skin.
Something taps my shoulder, and I whip around and scream. Like horror movie scream. Loud and screechy and uneven. The man’s eyes widen, and he holds up his hands in surrender. My screams only become louder when I follow his tattooed arm to his neck and up past his face to meet his cold brown eyes.
They soften and immediately change the hardened look of his face. “Relax, Mellie. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Smith, Jay’s friend. I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”
His words sink in, and slowly, the adrenaline wears off, casting an eerie silence as my body trembles, and I slide to the floor. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, breathing heavily through my nose. I fight to push away a panic attack and try to calm myself.
I thought I could do this—thought I could be on my own and independent—but now, I’m questioning myself.
He squats down in front of me, and I look up to see a line forming between his eyes as he assesses me. “Do you want me to call Jay?”
My head shakes rapidly, but I can’t seem to form any words yet. This will pass; I just need a minute. I haven’t had a panic attack in such a long time; I almost forgot how much I despise them.
Smith stands up and leans against the wall. I watch him watching me, and a gentle smile forms on his full lips. Breaking his intense gaze, I swallow and lower my head to get myself together, but not before I notice that his eyes are such a dark brown they’re almost black. After a moment, I push myself up, feeling like an idiot for being such a scaredy-cat.
“Are you okay?” He asks with genuine concern in his voice.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m really jumpy, and you scared the crap out of me.”
A chuckle locks in his throat, and he pushes off the wall. “I gathered that.”
“Jay told me you would be here this morning.” My voice is a little more accusatory than I would like, but I’m exhausted and just got the life scared out of me.
His eyes narrow on me at my tone. “I told him I’d be here at eight. It’s eight.”
“You meant at night?”
“Yeah.”
“He told me in the morning.”
He raises an eyebrow at my snarky tone. “He didn’t listen very well.”
As if on cue, my phone rings. I slide it out of my pocket but don’t miss the way Smith’s eyes trail down my legs and back up again.
“Hey,” I answer in greeting to my brother.
“Smith there?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, Mel. He sent me a text a few minutes ago to let me know he was there, and I just saw your missed calls. I thought he meant eight in the morning.” His panicked voice makes me feel guilty. I hate he worries so much about me.
“It’s okay now. Let me call you later.”
We hang up, and as soon as I slide my phone back in my pocket, Smith’s chimes with a text. He slides his thumb across the screen and shakes his head before sending a quick reply. “Your brother’s threatening me.”
“He’s a bit protective.”
He clears his throat and shuffles his feet, before pointing his soulful dark orbs on me. “It’s okay. I’d be the same way with you.”
A weird buzzing floats in my stomach from the echo of his deep voice in the empty house. “You used to be his partner, right?” When Jay first became a police officer, I was young, but I remember him talking about his partner, Smith. Then one day, he never brought him up again, and I kind of forgot about him until Jay told me he’d be the one working on the house.
“Yep.”
I don’t miss the emotion that crosses his face and I change the subject again. “Well, here it is.” I twirl around and wave at the gross, nasty, dirty, falling apart house.
A whistle slides out of his mouth as he walks around and pushes against the wall, which sways under his weight. “He didn’t tell me it was this bad.”
“We didn’t know. The attorney wasn’t very forthcoming with information.”
I follow him around the house and try not to look at his firm butt and the way the tool belt around his waist is like an aphrodisiac. His commanding steps and easy swagger tell me he’s a confident man. His triceps flex under his short-sleeved hunter green t-shirt as he pulls up a corner of the carpet in the bedroom upstairs.
“Fuck, I only had four weeks set aside. I’ll need double that. This is gonna be almost a total tear down.”
“How much?” I already have preapproval from the bank, but I don’t want to go broke.
“Dunno yet.”
A yawn comes out of nowhere, and I reach up to cover my mouth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He leads the way downstairs, and I force myself to look at the slightly long, dark brown hair on the top of his head, instead of ogling his butt.
“So what’s next?” I bend down to grab my purse from the floor, and when I stand up, Smith clears his throat before looking away.
“I need to get my crew in here, and we’ll start the demo. Once we strip it down, we’ll be able to get a better idea of the plumbing and electrical… But if the condition of the rotting wood is any indication, we’ll need to rewire and replace the pipes.”
Running my hands through my ratty blonde hair, I sigh. “When can you get started?”
“Monday.”
It’s Friday today, so that means I have the entire weekend to do nothing at the hotel. “Can I help and get started early?”
“Wouldn’t recommend it.” He nods at my hands. “Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself any worse.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Well, I’m leaving then. I need a shower, and I’m starved.”
“Where are you staying?” He follows me out of the house, and when I struggle to shut the door, he gently removes my hand and closes it with ease.
“Hotel down the street. I can’t exactly stay here.”
“No, you can’t.”
I spot his ginormous black truck on the street as I walk to my little silver coupe in the driveway.
“You wanna give me a key so I can get in on Monday?”
I bite my lip and turn to face him. “I only have the one. I’ll get a copy and meet you here Monday. What time?”
“Seven.”
“In the morning?” I tease.
He nods and steps backward toward his truck. “See you Monday, Mellie.”
* * *
My fingers are ready to fall off. I click save on the document I’m working on, email it back to my client, and then close my laptop with a relieved sigh. I only had a little to finish and wanted to get it to her promptly. My job as a freelance editor allows me to work whenever and wherever I want. Although I’m ahead of schedule, I’d still prefer to be back in my apartment at my own desk.
My legs are killing me. My back is sore from ripping out all that carpet earlier and now from leaning over on the stiff mattress to do my work. I know I need to get some food, so I put on a bra under my hoodie and throw on a pair of tennis shoes. No need to switch out of my ever-present yoga pants.
Since the hotel has no restaurant, I head down the street to the Chinese place I saw. It’s a little late, almost ten, and if it wasn’t on a busy street with a lot of light, I’d stay in and order a pizza. But I’m really craving sesame chicken. Plus, one of the downsides of my job is that I sit all day, and if I don’t force myself to move a little, I’ll turn into a blob. After about a block and a half, a door at the corner ahead swings open, and a woman stumbles out of the bar followed by a man who looks familiar, the only one I’ve met since I’ve been here.
Smith isn’t hard to recognize, even though he’s wearing a button-down instead of a t-shirt. I slow and pretend to tie my shoe, so I avoid running into him. As the cab they got in passes me, I make the mistake of looking over at the exact same time he glances at me. His eyes show no recognition, and I turn around and head back to the hotel... with no food. I’m suddenly not hungry anymore.
* * *
The next morning, I fi
nd myself frustrated and antsy. Even though I wouldn’t be doing anything at home, something about being in a hotel has me feeling claustrophobic. I head to the hardware store to make a copy of the key, and while I’m there, I get a pair of gloves, since I still plan to go to the house and rip up the carpet. I know Smith said I shouldn’t, but I can’t sit around and do nothing. Even if it’s not a lot, it’s still something, and I hope it makes a difference as to when I can go home.
I’m walking the aisles because I have nothing better to do, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a breeze skims over my skin. The feeling of somebody watching me creeps up my spine, and I wait for a minute before I turn around to find an empty aisle. Of course.
Being scared all the time is a trait I’m working to overcome. I don’t trust anyone, didn’t even before it happened. Not only did I lose my innocence, but it also cost me friendships and relationships. Hence the reason I haven’t had a boyfriend or any new friends in over six years. Christ, I’m twenty-two. Nobody wants to hang out with a girl who’s afraid of the dark.
Walking to the restaurant was a big step for me. I want to prove to myself that I can do things on my own again. Prove to Jay that I’m capable. My brother can’t babysit me forever.
Supplies in hand, I stop at a drive-through on the way and sit in my car to eat before I go into the monstrosity of a house. At about nine twenty-five, I head inside and plug in my speaker dock then put some music on. This time, the gloves help when I’m ripping out the carpet, and I don’t stab myself once.
After tying the strips into rolls, I toss them in the backyard and then work on emptying the cabinets. There isn’t any large furniture, but I find plenty of junk. So far, I have filled seven garbage bags and have at least another few to go.
I’m tossing another bag in the trashcan in the backyard when a man crosses the lawn. My eyes widen, and I back away, but he talks quickly. “I’m Dale. I live next door. Just wanted to introduce myself.”