“Uh, Scarlett?” I toss her bag into my SUV, then join her in the front. “This is embarrassing, but I don’t know your address.”
I hand her my phone and she types in her address. “Other than picking me up occasionally, there’s no reason you’d need to come to my place.”
“Why not?”
“Well, Eli’s there, for starters.” She shoots me a look as I pull onto the road toward downtown Sully’s Beach.
I keep my eyes forward, both hands on the wheel. Eli’s name always stops me cold, a reminder of why I’ve kept my distance. And right now, pulling up to her house with his sister in my passenger seat feels like I’m driving into a situation I’ve been trying to avoid.
“And secondly,” she adds. “It’s not exactly what you’d call a desirable living situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the guy downstairs is genuinely creepy. I’m pretty sure he’s dealing drugs or running some kind of illegal operation. People drop by at all hours, and sometimes there are shouting matches that wake me up at three in the morning.”
I frown. “Scarlett, you shouldn’t be living there if he’s a drug dealer.”
“I don’t know for certain that he’s involved in criminal activity—it’s just suspicious. Plus, there’s the neighbor lady who plays tuba for the community band and practices all hours of the dayandnight.”
I grimace. “Not that I have anything against the tuba, but that’s not exactly an instrument you want to fall asleep to.”
“Believe me, the only thing the tuba is good for is the Veggie Tales theme song. And then there’s the pajama thief…”
“Someone’s stealing your stuff?”
“He only steals pajamas, apparently. I made the mistake of line-drying my laundry, and when I came home, all my pajamas were gone.”
“What kind of person steals women’s pajamas?”
“No idea, but I don’t hang laundry outside anymore. I basically try to get in and out as quickly as possible, unless Eli’s home, which isn’t often these days. Lauren mentioned that the apartment above the cafe is opening up at the end of the season. I’d move in yesterday if I could afford it.” She sounds frustrated and maybe a little lonely.
“How is Eli doing?”
She stares out the window. “Honestly? Not great. He’s lost his part-time job, so he’s basically been working on his old truck while trying to get another one of his business ideas going.”
“He still has Mona-the-Truck?”
He bought that broken-down truck in high school with dreams of restoration that never happened because he was always broke.
“Yep. She runs most of the time, but he’s still tinkering on her. I just wish he’d figure out his life instead of launching these failed business ventures with friends.”
She turns to look directly at me. “Tell me something, Brendan. What really happened between you and Eli?”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel. The inside of my SUV suddenly feels too small. “We had…a disagreement.”
Her brow furrows. “But you guys were inseparable in high school.”
“Yeah, during the summer,” I say quietly, hoping she won’t push this topic. There’s a complicated history between Eli and me, and dating his sister definitely won’t help. “I’m not sure Eli wants to be friends now.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
A few minutes later, we pull up to her address and I get my first look at where Scarlett actually lives. The house is sketchy—sagging porch, peeling paint, and random junk scattered around the yard.
Eli’s truck sits in the driveway, and I can see his legs sticking out from underneath the front end.
As I approach the house, Eli slides out from under Mona,grease on his hands and shirt. He looks at Scarlett first, then our eyes meet, and his jaw clenches.
“Eli.” I nod toward his truck. “Mona’s looking good.” It actually does look remarkably improved since the last time I saw it.