Landlady: A New Adult Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 1)

by Jackie Wang

  Cam swung by and visited me once, the day before I got discharged. He'd been wracked with guilt as well. I reassured him that we were even now and that he could go back to running his bar without any worries. When I told him I’d be living with my parents for a bit he seemed grateful that I'd have someone to look after me. We parted as friends.

  Callista came after Cam and brought me some snacks as well as fresh daisies. She'd also made a cheesy 'Get Well' card which I loved.

  I was discharged Thursday afternoon. My parents drove me home in their pickup truck so I could pack my suitcase. Mom wanted to help me, but I didn't want to seem completely useless, so I refused. I did let Dad follow me to the back door, though, in case I fell down. I was just getting the hang of using crutches, but it was a lot of hard work and the ends really dug into my armpits, hard.

  It would be a long six to eight weeks.

  I didn't know whether or not to tell Asher I'd be going straight to the farm. He knew I was being discharged, but he said he was busy at work so he'd text me later. I guess he assumed I'd be home when he got back.

  To be polite, I decided to send him a text while I was packing.

  SIERRA: Thank you for looking after me this week and coming to visit. I really appreciate it. I'm heading straight over to my parent's farm to recuperate so I guess I'll see you when I get back in a few weeks. If you need anything, I'm a phone call away. Sierra.

  I rolled up several outfits and tucked them into my large suitcase. Then I grabbed a few personal toiletry items. My parents could supply everything else. I found myself checking my phone every few seconds, wondering when he'd text back. When I was finally done, I grabbed my keys off the counter and did one last sweep of the basement before leaving. I leaned against one crutch while I locked the door. Dad lugged my suitcase down to the curb and helped me load it into the backseat.

  My phone dinged.

  About time.

  ASHER: What's your parent's address?

  SIERRA: Why? Are you going to send me snail mail? ;)

  ASHER: I'm going to come visit you.

  SIERRA: It's like in the middle of nowhere. An hour's drive away from here.

  ASHER: Don't make me hack into your phone and track your GPS.

  SIERRA: Stalker much? Maybe I don't want you to visit.

  ASHER: Two to three weeks holed up on a farm. With your parents and the animals. You'll want me to visit, trust me.

  SIERRA: What's wrong with my parents' farm? I grew up there. It's nice.

  ASHER: Nothing wrong. It's nice, but it's not your home anymore. You'll just be bored out of your mind. I'm offering free entertainment.

  SIERRA: Oh, what kind of entertainment?

  “What are you doing, Sierra? Get in the car,” Mom snapped.

  “Sorry,” I apologized. Dad helped me get into the backseat, and I buckled in. As Dad sped away, I received another text from Asher.

  ASHER: The best kind there is.

  Aaaand he's back.

  I grinned. I'd missed our witty bantering over the past week. He'd been so serious in all his visits (was it because my parents were close by?) that I’d been worried he'd lost his sense of humor.

  SIERRA: 159 Langley Grove. If you get lost, ask for Maywood Farms. Everyone knows it.

  ASHER: Can I come tomorrow after work?

  SIERRA: Miss me already?

  ASHER: You have no idea.

  I silently fist pumped the air and smiled to myself. He missed me. Which meant he liked me, at least to some extent. I mean, a normal person wouldn't drive an hour to visit someone they didn't like, right?

  I didn't say much the entire ride to the farm. Asher needed to get back to work, and I needed to stop acting so desperate. After all, I couldn't afford to get too attached. Our situation was unconventional, to say the least. I'd only make it worse by trying to put a label on it or overthink everything he did. It was best if kept my expectations low.

  City blocks melted into highways, which melted into scenic farmland and eventually dirt roads. I plugged in my earbuds, put on some trance music and took a little nap. I earned it. The doctor said I needed to rest as much as possible.

  When I woke up, I was struck by a familiar scent. Ah, nothing like the smell of fresh manure to jolt you back to your senses. The farm still looked, smelled, and sounded exactly the same. Slanted, green-gabled roof, miles of yellow-green pasture and the familiar sound of barnyard animals, cooing and snorting nearby.

  I eased out of the car and landed right in a mud puddle. The filth splattered all over my sweatpants, and I cursed myself for not wearing boots. I looked up the pitted driveway and realized it would be an obstacle course for someone on crutches.

  “Hold on, Sierra, wait for me to get out first,” Dad said, rushing to my side. I hadn't seen him so worried about me in a long time. He took my arm and hooked it around his right shoulder. “Lean on me. Watch out for puddles. Doc says you can't get your cast wet.”

  I winced as I hobbled down the uneven path leading up to the farm. I'd need to take my acetaminophen soon because I could feel heat and blinding white pain shooting up my numb leg. At some point during the ride, circulation had slowed to my leg and I couldn't feel anything below my knee anymore.

  “Sisi, baby, don't rush. Slow down,” Mom called from behind us.

  After much struggle, and with both my parents' help, I finally managed to get inside the house. My parents' two-storey rancher was almost ninety-three years old. Dad had inherited from his father, my Grandpa Elmer, who passed away when I was a baby. (To clarify, Grandma Beatty, the one who left me her home, was my mother's mother.)

  Ah, home sweet home. Sorta.

  I hadn't realized how much I'd missed the creaky floorboards and paisley furniture until now. I felt a rush of memories, both good and bad, tumble through me. My first hand lashing over there in the kitchen... for stealing and devouring an entire bag of dog biscuits. That time I secretly made out with Grayson Jr. on the porch in eighth grade. My first dog, Colby, a beautiful Border Collie, buried in the backyard.

  “Would you like some iced tea?” Mom asked. “Made from scratch, just the way you like it.”

  “That'd be great, Mom.”

  Dad brought in my luggage. His face was blotchy and dripping with sweat. It was a mild day for July, but the mugginess made it stifling, especially inside the house.

  “Since you can't sleep upstairs, I'm afraid you'll have to crash in the living room,” Dad said. “I can bring down your mattress and set it up by the couch.”

  “It's okay Dad, I can just sleep on the couch. Don't need to-”

  “—Nonsense, Sisi. You're not going to sleep on that lumpy piece of crap for the next month!”

  I sighed and caved. I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was only planning on staying for a week, max, two. Even though the orthopedist said I probably wouldn't be able to take off the cast for at least six weeks, I fully intended on going back to work after two. I'd be clumsier, but I could still sew things together and file paperwork if need be. Most importantly, I needed the money.

  Mom brought in a pitcher of iced tea, the ice cubes clinking gently against the glass. She'd added her signature sprig of mint to it. She poured me a cup, and I downed it in three swallows. I hadn't realized I was so thirsty until my hands were outstretched, and Mom was giving me a refill. Most of my favorite childhood memories revolved around guzzling down Mom's homemade iced tea in the summertime.

  “It's important to stay hydrated,” Mom reminded me. “The last thing we need is to have you dehydrated from this heat.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Ernest. Let me help. Watch your back!” Mom rushed over to help Dad as he dragged my old single mattress down the stairs. It clunked on each step, and I was terrified that the stair treads wouldn't be able to handle the abuse. They were ancient and in dire need of replacement.

  The two of them managed to successfully navigate the mattress around the banister, and they slid it into place in fron
t of me. It was still covered in the same frilly pink fitted sheet I'd used most of my childhood. The fabric was worn in many spots, and its color had long since faded.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “I put your bedsheets and covers in the wash. They'll be nice and clean by the time you go to bed,” Mom said “I'll bring in the fan and get some air circulating.”

  They were being too nice. I felt awful, especially since before the accident, I hadn't spoken to them in almost six months. I'd only come back to the farm to visit once in the three years since I moved out. And that had been when Roxy had gotten sick. Even though the farm wasn't that far away (about two hours by public transit), I avoided seeing my parents. Whenever Mom called, I always had an excuse ready: it was midterms or finals season; I was busy at work; Callista was having a meltdown; I was sick with the flu. Sometimes the excuses were true, others were downright lies.

  Why? Mostly because I wanted to avoid confrontation. Didn't want to face their criticism and unfounded concerns. They always painted the city as a hell where people sold their souls and surrendered their youth for the corporate ladder and financial greed. That wasn't true though. They never saw Northbridge the way I saw it: a place where dreams came true. A city of opportunity and unlimited potential.

  But now, despite how terrible I've been the past few years, my parents were taking me back under their wing without hesitation. Because family was family. I was touched but also wracked with guilt.

  “What would you like for dinner, Sierra?” Mom asked. “I'm running out to buy some groceries.”

  “Anything,” I replied. “I'm not picky.”

  “Okay, I'll make you something special then. Your first night home in a long time, sweetheart. It's a cause for celebration.”

  After Mom had left, Dad sat in his worn leather armchair and flicked on the TV. He settled on a soccer game. Still staring at the screen, he said, “She missed you so much, you know.”

  I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. He didn't need to remind me; I could see for myself. I knew Mom had taken a huge hit when both her children flew the coop around the same time. She must've gotten Empty Nest Syndrome to some extent.

  “I know,” I said.

  “I missed you too,” Dad said. “House is awfully lonely without you and Jordan running around terrorizing us.”

  I chuckled. “Dad, we're too old to terrorize you.”

  “You living in the city terrifies me,” Dad said. “Not knowing if you're eating well, sleeping well, if you're making the right choices for yourself—I worry about you, Sierra.”

  “I'm twenty-five Dad. Old enough to make my own mistakes and live with the consequences. You can't protect me forever.”

  “I know,” he finally sighed, “I wish I could, though. Seems like just yesterday you were learning how to walk and talk.”

  “Change is a good thing, Dad. Even if it doesn't seem that way right now,” I said.

  I was glad when Dad settled into his show and didn't try to persuade me to move back permanently. I wanted my sojourn here to pass as peacefully as possible. Preferably without any nasty arguments or bickering.

  Mom made my favorite for dinner: Chicken Alfredo Lasagna with a side of crispy bacon. From scratch. Mom was a fantastic cook, and one of the things I missed most was eating her home-cooked meals. Yes, they made me put on pounds like crazy, but they were sinfully delicious. Comfort food at its finest. If I could choose to inherit anything from Mom, it'd be her amazing cooking skills. Why couldn't I cook like her?

  After dinner, I offered to wash the dishes, but Mom wouldn't have any of it. So I decided to read a book before calling it an early night. After changing into my PJs and turning off the lights, Mom snuck up to me and knelt down beside the mattress. “Good night, sweetheart. And welcome home,” she murmured. She kissed my forehead and headed upstairs.

  She sounded so happy I felt my heart break a little. How could I possibly explain to them this was just a short, temporary visit? They were already acting like I was back for good.

  CHAPTER 16

  ASHER

  “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING me?” Dad cried, throwing a sheaf of papers in my face. “This is fucking garbage!”

  I bent down to pick up the contracts, which were now scattered all over Dad's office floor.

  “I stayed up all night working on these,” I said. They were the revised contracts for the Holdom merger. I thought I'd done a spectacular job but...

  “First, you reschedule the meeting with the Holdom sisters, now you fuck up their contracts? They'll be here tomorrow and what will you have to show them? This crock of shit?”

  “I can draw up another one,” I said, straightening out the files and slipping them back into the folder.

  “In three hours? Impossible. I'm handing this case over to Klassen,” Dad said.

  Lars Klassen was the other junior associate with his own office. He and I were both competing for a promotion to senior partner. Our skill levels were evenly matched, but I had a bit of a disadvantage these days: I was finding it difficult to focus.

  It was all Sierra Maywood's goddamn fault.

  I was spending way too much time wondering how she was doing back home with her parents. She'd left yesterday while I was at work and I'd asked if I could visit her tonight. And in all the time since her last text, I'd been wondering a million different things.

  Trivial things.

  Like what to wear? What to bring? What to say to her and her parents?

  Jesus, I felt like I was in high school again, asking Jessica Raines to the prom.

  “What the hell are you still doing here? Get out!” Dad yelled.

  I hadn't seen him so pissed off in a long time. He was disappointed, I could tell. He'd be angrier still if he knew the real reason I'd fudged the contracts. I had to stay up all night because I'd spent most of my days visiting Sierra in the hospital and playing hooky from work. I'd told her my workload was light, that was why I could visit her so much. But the truth was I just couldn't bear spending a single day without seeing her.

  I was...obsessed with her.

  Never even been on a date with her yet and I was already doomed. Fucking hell. I hadn't had a good night's sleep in over a week and I was soul-crushing drained.

  I left Dad's office, tail tucked between my legs. His lecture had been loud enough that no doubt everyone in the office had heard him. Shame boiled inside me.

  “Guess you really dropped the ball on the Holdom contracts huh?” Klassen asked, a roguish smile on his face. He was leaning against the wall just outside his office, which was beside my Dad's.

  “Piss off, Klassen,” I warned, before storming back to my office to lick my wounds.

  Luckily, my mood improved when I received a text from Sierra.

  SIERRA: Mom wants to know what you'd like for dinner.

  I grinned. I couldn't wait to see her. Hear her voice. That voice... I swear it did something to me.

  ASHER: Hmm...Can I eat you?

  SIERRA: Definitely not.

  ASHER: In that case, I'll have whatever she wants to make.

  SIERRA: She says is roadkill okay?

  I let out a belly laugh.

  ASHER: As long as it's boiled for safety.

  SIERRA: Roadkill Stew it is then. See you later.

  ASHER: Wait, should I bring something? Wine?

  SIERRA: Just bring your sexy ass and a big smile. It's been really boring today. You were right. I watched Gilmore Girls reruns all day. ALL DAY.

  ASHER: I'll bring you something fun.

  SIERRA: Will it be something appropriate? ;)

  ASHER: What do you take me for? See you at eight.

  Sierra always had her mind in the gutter. Though I didn't blame her. Lately, I found myself entertaining way too many fantasies of her (most of which were R-rated). But intermixed with those fantasies was something else: a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. A protectiveness I couldn't explain, and a soft spot I wish didn't leave me so exposed and
vulnerable.

  I pulled up to Maywood Farm at a quarter to eight. I’d had to leave work early (if Dad knew, he'd be angry) but on the plus side, there wasn't much traffic.

  I'd changed into a more casual outfit after work. After all, strolling onto a farm wearing a $3000 suit didn't seem appropriate. I opted for a black t-shirt and dark jeans. I made sure to take a shower after work so I'd smell good for her parents. And I also brought Sierra two special gifts. (Neither of which were inappropriate!)

  I felt terrible that the first time they saw me, I looked like something the cat had dragged in. I'd been muddy, stinky, and disheveled. A horrible first impression, to be sure.

  The front door opened before my feet even hit the first porch step. They must've heard me in the driveway.

  “Asher, come on in,” Ernest said. His smile was open and genuine, and I felt relief flood through me. Dinner with the Maywoods would be okay.

  “Hi, Mr. Maywood.” I nodded to Lillian. “Mrs. Maywood.”

  “Please, call me Lil and my husband, Ernie,” Lillian said.

  “Okay.” I stepped inside and shrugged off my sneakers. “Where's Sierra?”

  “She's in the dining room,” Lillian said.

  I nodded. I handed her a bottle of red wine but kept my other gifts tucked under my arm.

  “Thank you, Asher, you shouldn't have,” Lillian beamed.

  “It was the least I could do,” I said. “If you don't mind, I'm dying to see Sierra.”

  “Please, go ahead. Dinner will be in five minutes.”

  I walked past the living room and saw Sierra sitting at the table, reading a book. In the dim light, her eyes seemed to glisten like pearls. Her face looked smooth and her cheeks, rosy. She looked gorgeous; not at all like someone who'd just spent the week in the hospital. I was glad she seemed back to her old self again.

  “Mind if I join you?” I asked.

  My voice made her startle. “Jeez, Asher. Ever heard of knocking?”

  “That must be some book,” I said. “You didn't even hear me come in.”

  “What's that?” she asked, nodding at the two wrapped gifts in my hand.

  “I promised I'd bring you some entertainment,” I said, grinning.