Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99921 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Slamming on the brakes, I shut my eyes. Fuck my life. This trusting-my-instinct thing I’d started doing recently wasn’t exactly working out as planned.
My throat tightened and my fingertips started to tingle—telltale signs of a full-blown anxiety attack coming on. That was the absolute last thing I needed, so I did what my new therapist had taught me to do. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten while I focused on my breathing. I felt no better when my eyes flickered open, especially once I saw Mr. Bunyan still standing there. But I did feel compelled to say something. So I pressed the button to roll down the passenger window and waved.
“Sorry! I’ll replace that, too!”
My new, not-so-friendly neighbor said nothing. I was pretty sure we weren’t going to be besties, so no point in trying to smooth things over. I shifted the car into drive, double-checked that I was actually in drive before taking my foot off the brake, and managed to turn around and pull into the driveway next door without any other catastrophes.
Though when the headlights gave me my first good look at my new home away from home, I wondered if I had another catastrophe on my hands.
Oh no.
Two windows were boarded up with plywood, the garage door hung crooked, and half the shutters were missing from the house while the other half dangled. No amount of deep breaths were going to make this better. If the outside looked like this, I was terrified what I might find inside. There was a broken porch light hanging over the front door, so I left the headlights on when I got out so I could see.
The rusty lock I stuck the key into matched the condition of the rest of the house, so I’m not sure why I was so shocked when the key didn’t turn. I jiggled the handle back and forth a few times. The lock felt like it wanted to turn, but needed a little convincing. So I put some weight behind it and…it moved. Oh, did it move alright.
Snap!
I closed my eyes. Please, please, don’t let it be broken.
But of course, it was.
Shit.
Shit.
Double shiii-it!!!
What the heck was I going to do now?
I looked around at the house. Maybe the windows weren’t locked on the first floor? Or I could pry off the wood covering what I assumed was a broken one. I spent the next ten minutes walking around the perimeter of the property, trying every window I could reach. Needless to say, the only luck I was having today was shit luck, so none were open. Back at the car, I flicked on the high beams to survey the rest of the house. The third window from the left on the second floor looked like it might be open a few inches. I considered driving the car onto the lawn so I could stand on the roof, but it looked like I still wouldn’t be able to reach. Maybe I should call a locksmith? Though the last time I did that, it took more than three hours for the guy to come, and that was in bustling New York City, not this small town. I was dying to go to sleep.
I peered over at Paul Bunyan’s house and nibbled on my lip. He wasn’t the friendliest, but I only needed a ladder. My gut told me that was the easiest solution, and since my gut had gotten me into this mess, I figured it was its job to get me out. So I swallowed whatever pride I had left, traipsed back over to the neighbor’s, and took a deep breath before knocking.
The tree-man opened again, and not surprisingly, he didn’t bother to say hello.
“Hi again!” I chirped a bit too cheerily. “Could I possibly bother you for a ladder?”
His brows furrowed. “What for?”
I pointed next door. “I seem to have gotten myself into a little pickle. The key broke off in the lock.” I held up the snapped-in-half proof from my keyring. “See? And I only have the one. None of the windows are open on the first floor, but it looks like there’s one open on the second. If you have a ladder, I’m sure it won’t take more than five minutes for me to bring it back.”
The guy stared at me for a solid ten seconds. Then he brushed past me without saying a word. I had no idea if that meant I should follow, but that’s what I did. Paul punched a code into the wall on the side of his garage and the door began to roll up. He ducked inside and grabbed a ladder.
“Front or back?” he grunted.
“Uh…front.”
He hoisted the ladder onto his shoulder and marched across the lawn toward my place. I followed. “You don’t have to carry it. I can do it.”