Fix My Fall (The Fix Series Book 3)

by Carey Heywood

  I assume he’s pissed because Gid cussed and decide against pointing out asshole is also a cuss word.

  “Shit, sorry,” Gideon says and I suppress a giggle.

  Eli clenches his fists and I wonder if he’s thinking about punching Gideon. A full minute goes by before he says anything.

  “Wait here, we’ll go check inside.”

  Slipping off his coat, I pass it back to him since I can wait in my car. “If it’s safe and you can grab Emo, will you please bring her to me?”

  “Sure thing, you know pus—”

  Eli smacks Gideon on the back of the head before he can finish his sentence.

  “Hey!” Gideon exclaims, rubbing the back of his head.

  Eli ignores him, putting his coat back on while walking around the left side of my house. Gideon trails after him and I get back in my SUV.

  “Where are they going?” Aidan asks once I’m inside.

  Ethan gestures out the window. “You’ve got eyes. They’re going to look in Aunt Abby’s house.”

  “Yes, I have eyes,” Aidan pouts.

  Connie pipes up next. “I don’t want daddy going in your house. It’s scary in there.” Great, now they think my house is scary.

  “They’re going to see what made all that noise and shaking.”

  Connie presses her hands to her belly. “Will they get the pizza?”

  Crap, I should have asked them to grab it too. “Ahh—”

  I’m saved from answering when I see Noah’s truck turn onto my street, Brooke’s Highlander behind it. “Hang tight kids.”

  Noah reaches me first, giving me a hug. “Fin’s grabbing you a blanket.”

  “Finley came?”

  He looks down at me. “Like I could stop her from coming.”

  Brooke parks and beelines it for my SUV. “Are they okay?”

  Finley joins us and hands me a fleece blanket. I nod while Noah settles it around me.

  “They’re hungry, and their coats and shoes are still inside. We dashed out so fast I didn’t have a chance to grab anything.”

  “I have stuff they can snack on in the car until we get home.”

  With Noah and Finley’s help, we piggyback all three to her SUV. Ethan wasn’t thrilled, but he was less thrilled about the idea of walking in snow in just his socks.

  “I hope your house is okay Auntie Abby,” Connie says, unwrapping a granola bar.

  “Me too honey,” I give her a smile and hug before making sure she’s buckled up.

  Once she leaves with the kids, Noah, Finley and I, head to my backyard.

  Eli and Gideon are walking out of my garage when we get there, Emo in Gideon’s arms.

  I reach out my arms for her. “Hey baby. Are you okay?”

  Gideon passes her to me. “Let me know if she answers you.”

  I barely suppress my eye roll.

  “Did you figure out what happened to the house?” Noah asks Eli.

  Eli looks right at me. “It’s a sinkhole.”

  My head jerks, my fingers freezing mid-rub on Emo. “A what?”

  “A sinkhole,” Gideon replies.

  “I heard him, I just didn’t believe him.”

  A couple of seconds go by as I wait for one of them to start laughing and tell me it’s a joke.

  Eli’s eyes soften. “Abs.”

  Apparently, this is no joke.

  “It can’t be a sinkhole. This is New Hampshire, we’re the friggin’ granite state.”

  “There was one a couple of years ago that shut down 93 near Concord.”

  My eyes move to Noah. “That isn’t helpful.”

  He lifts his hands and grins. “Sinkholes are rare here, that’s for sure, but I just wanted you to know they can happen.”

  Pressing my face into Emo’s fur, I hold her closer until she meows in protest.

  Lifting my head, my eyes travel over my brothers and Finley. “What am I going to do?”

  Finley wraps her arm around me. “You and Emo are coming home with us tonight.” Her eyes move to Eli. “Is it safe enough for her to get anything from inside?”

  Eli and Gideon exchange a glance.

  “Well?”

  It’s Gideon who answers which isn’t a surprise because, out of all of us, being a landscape architect, he has the most knowledge on the subject. “Problem is we don’t know if the sinkhole will get any bigger. It needs to be tested and that isn’t going to happen tonight.”

  My eyes widen. “I don’t think my homeowners’ insurance will cover this.”

  They all frown, my gaze shoots to Noah since he does contracting work. “Can a sinkhole be fixed?”

  “Sometimes, but only a geologist will know for sure and they aren’t cheap.”

  With Emo still cuddled in my arms, I turn to look at the cute little Cape Cod I’ve called home for the last three years. The moment I saw the listing I knew it was the home for me.

  My brothers are trying to sugar coat this to avoid hurting my feelings. They’ve done that my whole life and I’m sure if my other brother Asher was here, he’d be telling me white lies as well.

  Three years of lovingly updating this place all down the hole, literally.

  “There are things in there I need.”

  Eli moves in front of me. “Tell me what you need and where it is and I’ll go get it.”

  Gideon pushes past him. “No, I’ll go. If the sinkhole gets me it’s not like I have kids.”

  Noah coughs. “That we know of.”

  Normally, I’d laugh. Right now, I’m kind of too busy dealing with the fact that I’m pretty much homeless.

  2

  Spencer

  “I don’t have time for breakfast mom, I need to get to the university.”

  She points to the seat across from my father, a plate loaded with steaming eggs already at it. “You will sit and you will eat. You’re too thin.”

  There’s no point arguing again that there’s a difference between lean muscle and no muscle. “I can’t stay long.”

  She smiles, not caring since she won. I’ll have to push getting my own place farther up my priority list. In moving back here, it was only logical to move into my parents’ basement. Their home is conveniently located near work and since I paid off their mortgage four years ago, it’s rent-free. However, part of my moving home was to be closer to them, just not this close.

  If I didn’t have degrees confirming my understanding of mass, I’d swear this house has shrunk. How is it if I’m approximately the same size as when I left, it feels smaller? That’s a question I’ll have to consider further when I have more time.

  She sits at the chair to my right and sips her coffee. “Did you hear what happened to the Thompson girl?”

  Reflexively, my ears perk up at the name. All through high school I had a massive crush on Abigail Thompson.

  My father lowers his newspaper. “I didn’t. Care to share?”

  “She has a sinkhole in her backyard. From what I heard, it’s a bad one.”

  My father pushes up his glasses. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard of a good sinkhole.”

  “Oh, you know what I meant,” my mom retorts, setting her mug down.

  He nods and returns his attention to his paper. “I do, and it’s too bad. She was a good student.”

  My dad has taught high school English for thirty years but never forgets how his students both performed and behaved in his class.

  “A couple of her brothers were a handful, though.”

  My mother chuckles. “That’s the truth. I had the youngest one in one of my classes.”

  She turns her attention to me. “Didn’t you have a few classes with Abigail Thompson?”

  “I did.”

  Ten.

  I graduated one year ahead of her, but during the three years we were in the same school, we had ten classes together.

  “You should hire her to be your realtor.”

  “That isn’t necessary. There are listings online that will suffice.”

 
She looks at my father but points her mug toward me. “Do you hear him? Now he doesn’t need a realtor.”

  Her gaze shifts to me. “There’s more to life than what’s past Earth’s atmosphere.”

  I stand, picking up my now empty plate. “Not today there isn’t. Thanks for breakfast, I need to run.”

  My mom stands as well. “I’ll call Abigail and set up an appointment for you.”

  That stops me in my tracks. “Please don’t.”

  “Oh, let your mother set up an appointment. What’s the harm in using a realtor and, considering this sinkhole business, she could most likely use the commission.”

  What could possibly go wrong?

  Oh right, everything.

  But, if my buying a house from her will help her in her current predicament, so be it. “Fine.”

  Before she can talk me into anything else, I make a hasty retreat. During my drive to the campus I evaluate her proposal to form a hypothesis.

  Most likely, given the state of her personal affairs, she’ll be far too busy to assist me. Another possibility is that, even if she can assist me, it will be nominal assistance at best.

  Pleased with both of those scenarios, I park and scan my badge then make my way into the science wing of Woodlake University. While the majority of the campus is closed for winter break, the research floor is open for grad students and people like me.

  I’ve been hired by the university to assist in the research of supernova stars. The bulk of our work will be in locating stars that are early in the supernova stage. Then our partner researchers will study them.

  “Morning, Spencer.”

  My head turns and when I see the source of the words, I lift my hand in greeting. “Morning, Duncan.”

  “The images from last night are a dud,” he tells me as we begin to walk together.

  I turn to look at him. “None of the stars appeared brighter?”

  “Not one.”

  “Maybe we should consider widening our search to include more galaxies.”

  Our footsteps echo as we make our way down the hall.

  The pungent aroma of stale coffee hits my nose the moment we’re inside our lab.

  “How long have you been here?”

  He lets out a sheepish laugh. “I fell asleep at my desk. Woke up around three with a bitch of a crick in my neck.”

  “You make a habit of that and we’ll have a cot set up for you in the back.”

  “I don’t plan on making a habit of it.”

  We both sit and my chair squeaks as I swivel to face him.

  When I moved out of the dorms and into an apartment, my only focus was proximity to the campus. One of my professors rented me the space above his garage. It was all I needed and came with the added bonus of access to the workout equipment he housed in the garage.

  Now that I’m back on the east coast, and intent on having a semblance of my own space again, I’m curious as to the living arrangements of my colleagues.

  “Do you live near campus?”

  He swivels my way. “Need a place to stay?”

  My brows furrow and I shift back to facing forward. “I’m in the market for a house but I am not looking to cohabitate with anyone.”

  He faces forward as well. “Fair enough.”

  Something compels me to explain myself. “I’ve lived alone for years. When I moved back here, I moved into the basement of my parents’ house. It’s proving to be more difficult living there than I anticipated.”

  He swivels back toward me. “No privacy huh?”

  I nod, already certain a forced breakfast will be the least of my concerns.

  Mid-way through my day, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

  After reading it, I lift it for Duncan to see. “Looks like I have an appointment with a realtor this evening.”

  “You move fast. When did you set that up?”

  Shaking my head, I tap out a reply and hit send. “My mom set it up.”

  He smirks. “Sounds like your folks want their space back.”

  Slipping my phone back into my pocket I shrug. “It’s not that. I argued since the listings are all available online, I could easily find a place all on my own. She disagreed and it wasn’t worth arguing over it. My guess is having me meet with the realtor today is her way of ensuring I’ll use her and not do it on my own.”

  “Smart woman.”

  “Want to walk out together? It’s the only way I can guarantee you don’t sleep here again tonight.”

  He pushes away from his desk. “Good call.”

  We part ways at the main doors and make our way to our vehicles. He turns around, walking backward and calls out to me, “See you tomorrow. I hope your meeting with the realtor goes well.”

  “Thanks. Bye.”

  Earlier, when we discussed my meeting with Abby, I avoided mentioning her. It’s been years since I graduated. That doesn’t mean I’m not curious to see how those years have treated her.

  The coffee house my mom listed in her message is packed when I get there. With two warm-toned wooden accent walls, and a back wall made of stacked stone, the shop manages to be both cozy and rustic. If the coffee is as good as the ambiance, I’m not surprised it’s packed.

  One quick sweep of my eyes across the room confirms I beat her here. I’m twenty minutes early so it’s no surprise.

  After getting a cup of decaf, I grab one of the few free tables and pull out my laptop. A friend from school recently published a paper on event horizons of black holes. It’s good to see her getting published. We were close, but it’s been well over a year since the last time we spoke.

  Even with my attention on reading, I know the moment she walks in. She tugs free a thick red scarf as her eyes move over the crowd. I wait for them to land on me, and for that flicker of recognition to flare.

  Her eyes do meet mine but it’s not familiarity I see, rather curiosity before her gaze moves away.

  She doesn’t recognize me.

  Pulling her phone from her bag, she looks at something on it, before glancing around the room again.

  I’m torn between wanting to observe her and needing to put her out of her misery.

  Pushing down the screen of my laptop, I close it with a snap loud enough to draw her attention back over to me. Tucking strands of caramel-hued brown hair behind her ear, she smiles at me.

  I was curious if the years would change her. In some ways, as expected, they have. Her smile is still the same, though, still as warm and infectious as it was back in high school. It was the thing that drew me to her.

  Standing, I lift my hand. Her smile falters at my approach.

  We weren’t friends in high school so I decide against calling her Abby. “Abigail Thompson?”

  “That’s me. Have we met before?”

  Offering her my hand, I say, “I’m Spencer Hill.”

  She’s unable to disguise her surprise as she shakes my hand. “You look so different.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  She laughs, pulling her hand back. “Have you been waiting long?”

  Shaking my head, I motion toward my table. “Not at all. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  She waves me off. “Oh, I’ll get it.”

  While she orders, I move back to my table.

  A woman seated at a table near mine leans toward me. “Do you come here often?”

  Looking around first, I point to myself. “Were you talking to me?”

  She wets her lips. “I was.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I attempt to increase the space between us. “This is the first time I’ve come here.”

  She tilts her head. “I come here all the time if you want any recommendations.”

  “Thank you but that won’t be necessary.”

  At that moment, Abby arrives. The woman looks her up and down before turning her attention elsewhere

  “Is now good?” Abby asks, discreetly motioning to the woman I was speaking to.

  Standing, I move to pull out a
chair for her. “It is.”

  She blinks but recovers quickly. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. How have you been?”

  Once she’s seated, I return to my chair. “Work has taken up most of my time. I’ve been living in California. Moving back here mid-winter was a shock.”

  She takes a drink of her coffee before shrugging off her coat and letting it hang over the back of her chair.

  “I hope you’re not regretting it.” Before I’m able to reply, she continues to speak. “I still can’t get over how different you look.”

  “My old place had a gym in it. I used it quite often.”

  She laughs, her laughter as infectious as her smile always was. “You must have, but what I really don’t remember is you being so tall. Since I’m short it’s one thing I always remember about people.”

  “I grew four inches my freshman year of college.”

  “Some people have all the luck. I peeked height-wise in high school. I think you’re as tall as my brother Noah. Did you ever meet him?”

  The Thompson family is well known in Woodlake since they own the local hardware store.

  “I tutored Gideon and have met Asher. I don’t believe I’ve formally met either of your other brothers.”

  Lightly smacking the table, her mouth falls open. “I completely forgot you tutored Gideon. Did you know he became a landscape architect? I swear he would never have figured out his science classes and graduated high school if it wasn’t for you.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. He would have managed somehow.”

  Her brows lift. “If you say so.”

  “How have you been?”

  She gulps and smiles. This smile is nothing like the ones I remember. It isn’t infectious.

  “I’ve been great, thanks.”

  She is under no obligation to share her troubles with me. Lifting my coffee for a drink, I watch as she pulls a small leather notebook and a pen from her bag. She opens it to a page with my name already scribbled in neat letters across the top.

  Giving her pen a click, she meets my eyes. “Now, tell me what you’re looking for in a home.”

  Leaning in, I set my mug down. “I’d like to be near the campus.”

  She quickly jots that down. “How many bedrooms would you like it to have?”