Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
He glances up when he hears the door close behind me, and then his eyes sweep over my soaked clothes and scuffed shoes.
I brace myself for judgment. Instead, he sighs.
“You must be Cici.” His voice is gruff but not close to unkind.
Nodding, I push wet strands of hair behind my ear. “Yeah. Sorry, I… uh… didn’t expect the rain to get this bad.”
He snorts. “Weather report said it’d pour all night, but no one trusts them anymore. They rarely get it right.” He puts the clipboard down and gestures for me to come closer. “Got your key right here.”
When I approach the counter, the floor rug squelches under my shoes, and I wince. “Sorry. I’m making a mess.”
“The floor has seen worse.” He dismisses my concern with a wave. “Name’s Harris. I’m the building superintendent. If something breaks, leaks, or makes a noise it shouldn’t, come find me.”
His tone is straightforward, but his gaze is shrewd. He isn’t staring at me with suspicion but rather gauging what kind of tenant I’ll be.
He hands me a small envelope with my key inside. The paper is crisp, and again, feels too clean in my hands.
“Cash, right?” he asks, not accusatory, just stating. “We don’t get many cash tenants these days.”
My stomach gurgles as I place a month’s rent on the counter. “Is that a problem?”
“Nope.” He shrugs, taking the money. “Owner doesn’t care how the money comes in as long as it comes in on time.” He pauses stuffing the funds into a cash box in the drawer, eyes narrowing. “You got a job?”
I swallow. “Working on it.”
He nods, expecting that. “Keep to yourself, pay on time, don’t cause trouble, and we’ll have no issues.”
His tone suggests he’s encountered people like me before—people who arrive with only a bag and pay cash without providing any details.
He knows not to ask questions. Not even a last name for the rental ledger.
Relief floods over me so suddenly that my knees nearly give way.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it more than he realizes.
He grunts and turns his focus back to his clipboard. “Elevator is down the hall. Twelfth floor. Room 12B. Heater’s a little slow, but it works. Welcome to Carlisle Rise, Cici.”
The name is too fancy for this region of Carlisle, but I keep that to myself. I nod, snatch up the envelope, and then head toward the elevator.
As I walk away, Harris says, “If you need extra blankets, check the laundry room on the third floor. People leave stuff behind all the time.”
“Great. Thanks!”
Again, he waves off my praise. “Don’t take anything with a name stitched on it.”
A small, unexpected smile tugs at my lips. “Okay.”
The elevator dings when I press the call button, and the doors slide open without sticking or groaning. After stepping in, I turn to watch the doors seal me off from the lobby and Harris’s watchful gaze.
He probably thinks I’m a prostitute, but since his beliefs couldn’t sully my reputation more than it already is, I don’t bother correcting him.
As the elevator jerks into motion, I lean against the cool metal wall and take some deep breaths. For the first time in a long while, my lungs fill with oxygen-enriched air instead of being forced to survive on the bare minimum as I have my entire life.
I haven’t felt anything close to alive in years, yet I’d be dishonest to claim I didn’t feel on top of the world during those hours I spent with Dante.
The elevator opens on the twelfth floor. Though the building feels lived-in, it’s free of the chaos that usually swirls around me. The plush hallway runner is soft under my feet, muffling the rustle of me digging the key out of the envelope.
I walk to 12B, key cold in my hand, fingers trembling. The door opens to comfortable yet slightly stale air. The studio is small and clean. A window lets in enough morning light that I can turn off the humming heater in the corner, and thin bedding covers a mattress on a metal frame pushed against the wall.
It’s nicer than I expected. It isn’t luxurious, but it’s definitely a step up from where I lived before. There, the walls were thin enough to hear every slammed door and whispered threat. This place has a lobby, the floors are polished, and the elevator works.
It isn’t much, but it’s more than I need.
The lock clicking into place echoes louder than it should when I enter my new abode. It sends a shiver through me. It isn’t in fear, more relief.
As I take in bland walls and a kitchenette with a tiny stove and refrigerator, I place my backpack on the mattress and peel off my jacket. The rain was heavy enough that my shirt underneath clings to my breasts like a second skin.