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Derek had been the one to teach Olive back in middle school that the first sign someone was lying was giving too many details while answering a question that should have been simple. He was off his game.
They left the supply room, and he handed off the crutches to the nurse who needed them. He sat back down in the nurses’ station and set his phone on the desk where he could see the screen.
Olive dropped into the chair beside him, her lips pressed into a worried frown. “Just how bad is this apartment situation?”
“It’ll be fine. Got the repairs handled. Well, Gallagher does. I guess.”
“It’s really shitty this is happening. The sublet just moved into my place or I’d say you should go stay there. You have a deductible with the insurance, right?” She stared at the staffing paper instead of meeting his eye. “I know after everything you did for Michelle things have been tight. Can I—”
“Gallagher says he’s going to pay in and do labor. I’m good.”
But at the mention of Michelle, a new worry tugged at him. He needed to get to the bottom of Dylan’s financial situation. He might not like the guy, but he didn’t want him to fall into the same debt hole Michelle had fallen into. Being hounded by collections assholes wasn’t something he’d wish on anyone. Even a man who fell through his apartment ceiling at two A.M. While Derek didn’t usually put any stock in his apartment complex’s very active gossip mill, with what Jake said about his… encounter… with Dylan, he couldn’t entirely discount the whispered rumors that Dylan Gallagher was some eccentric, deadbeat nephew mooching off his uncle after a vague career upheaval.
“You’re sure you’re good?” Olive asked.
“Yup.” He forced a smile. “I’m good. It’ll be good. Maybe all the work fixing it up will help the shithole sell eventually. So, are you all packed? Ready for tomorrow?”
“Mostly.” The concern hadn’t left Olive’s face.
She hadn’t ever said she didn’t approve of what Derek had done for Michelle, but he knew. She probably wanted to remind him that his youngest sister was no longer the seven-year-old in a ballet leotard she’d been when their father died. He knew that.
But Derek also knew he needed to fix things if he could. He’d failed Michelle growing up. He couldn’t be everything she needed after their dad was gone. How could anyone expect him to let a few bills ruin her life?
Olive tapped on his desk, interrupting his thoughts. “Can Stella and I come see Gus tonight?”
“You just want to scope out Gallagher.”
She pressed an affectedly innocent hand to her chest. “I just want to see my dog. How dare you assume…” That melodramatic sigh was definitely overkill. “That I, your best friend, would have ulterior motives… like trying to check out your hot neighbor to be sure that said neighbor is worthy of your future hand in marriage. Outrageous accusation.”
“I hate you.”
“Noted. So—”
“I’ll order pizza. Make Joni come too.”
A buzz from the desk.
DYLAN
I think we got lucky because she’s not wearing those turquoise glasses she normally wears. I can see her through the crack in the door.
DYLAN
Why the hell did you give this lady a key?
DEREK
She was crying about her birds.
DYLAN
Her birds? She has birds? Like she has birds in her apartment? Living there? On purpose?
Derek smirked, imagining Dylan’s face all furrowed like it had been about Gus. He was afraid of birds too? Big dogs, sure. But birds? This was what he was concerned about? Not the fact that this busybody had just been snooping through Derek’s apartment like Derek had something to hide. Derek having something to hide was neither here nor there. She was still an insufferable pest.
When he looked up, two faces stared back.
Joni pushed some of her red hair out of her face and exchanged another bemused, knowing look with Olive. These women and their damned looks.