On the third day, I’d had enough.
“This weekend I’m starting to clean the house. With your help or without it.”
“Fine. Don’t expect me to get involved.”
“I don’t.”
That afternoon, my phone rang. Declan. His voice sounded strange.
“Don’t expect me to get involved.”
“Layla, I’m at your grandma’s house.”
“What? Why?”
Maybe he’d come around. Maybe he wanted to surprise me.
“I found something. I don’t even know what to say.”
My stomach dropped. Water damage? Mold?
“What did you find?”
Maybe he wanted to surprise me.
“Just get here. Now.”
He hung up.
I drove too fast. He was waiting at the front door, pale and quiet.
Declan is never quiet.
“What’s going on?” I asked as I got out.
“Come inside.”
“Now.”
He led me through the house to the storage room off the living room.
