I jerked my thumb toward the front door. “He just left,” I said, finally able to turn the volume down on the television.

Dania pouted and sank down on the couch beside me, pulling her legs up underneath her. She looked so young sometimes that it was depressing to realize how fast she was forced to grow up.

“Where’d you find that guy?” I asked, making a face.

Dania glared at me in warning. “Joe’s nice. He comes into the shop a couple of times a week to pick up orders. He works on the town maintenance crew,” she said. Dania had gotten a job at the car parts store on the far side of Wellston. It was an ideal job for a girl desperate for male attention. Being the only female, she got a lot of it. Her mattress could attest to that.

“He looks…old. And married,” I said.

Dania drew herself up defensively. “He’s only thirty-eight. That’s not even really middle aged yet. And his wife’s a bitch. He says he wants to leave her.”

“What and be with you?” I scoffed. I couldn’t believe it. Dania actually seemed to like the old fogy. But I knew that this was the same as all of her other notches on the bedpost…sex only.

“Shut up, Ellie. I don’t want to hear your judgy bullshit,” she growled, her face flushing. I knew it was time to backpedal in order to avoid a Dania Blevins meltdown.

“Forget I said anything,” I placated, holding up my hands.

Dania rolled her eyes. “Let’s go to Woolly’s. Maybe Stu and the guys are there,” she suggested, getting to her feet, forgetting about Joe. I knew that there would be someone warming her bed sheets later tonight.

I looked at my friend and felt sad for her. Sad for us both. We were two extremes. Dania was desperate for a connection, so she settled for what she got when she spread her legs.

And I wanted nothing to do with anyone. I couldn’t stand the thought of being touched and held. Having sex required that I be totally inebriated first.

We were each looking for something I was pretty sure neither of us would ever find.

Love.

Family.

It was a pipe dream. So we made do…feeling alone. But perhaps that’s all I could expect from life.

I didn’t deserve anything else.

**

I was having a pretty good day.

So that should have been an immediate sign that everything was about to go to shit.

My phone rang while I was throwing the ball for Murphy in the yard. Flynn was due home in a few hours, and I was making some pork barbeque in the Crock-pot. I had found that I honestly enjoyed cooking and even if Flynn still made faces when he tried something he wasn’t particularly fond of, he never said anything. And he had stopped spitting it out and refusing to eat it.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket and looked at the number, my palms instantly sweaty.

It was Lambert and Associates.

Crap.

This was about the receptionist gig. I tried not to delude myself into thinking I would be given the job. Not considering how the interview had gone but I couldn’t help but hope. It was all I had left.

I had almost no money and no prospects. I had applied for over thirty jobs and nothing had come from any of them.

I was starting to feel like this job, with the jackass Mr. Lambert, was my last option.

Last night as we sat on the couch Flynn had asked me bluntly if I needed money. I hated that my financial decencies was becoming a focal point of our relationship.

“No, I’m fine,” I had blustered, trying not to be offended.

“You don’t make much at JAC’s. I just thought you’d like some money. It’s okay. I make more than enough to give you some,” Flynn had said as though it were no big deal.

But to me it was a huge, freaking deal.

I had been taking care of myself for a long time. I didn’t like feeling as though I couldn’t support myself. I never wanted to be in a position where I depended on anyone for anything.

Not even Flynn.

“I don’t want to take your money. I get paid next week, that’ll hold me over,” I had said, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Flynn’s arm was around my shoulders. I was pressed against his side, yet I felt cold.

Flynn didn’t say anything else. I was thankful he hadn’t voiced any more of his brutally honest opinions. We had spent the remainder of the evening watching TV, my lack of a real job not addressed again.

“Hello?” I said.

“Miss McCallum?” I recognized Wilma’s voice.

“Yes, this is Ellie McCallum,” I answered.

“This is Wilma Hindgardner from Lambert and Associates. How are you?” she asked and I wanted to groan. Did we have to play painfully awkward chitchat? Just tell me if I got the damn job already! I didn’t see the point of asking someone how they were doing when you really didn’t give a shit.

“I’m fine,” I said, not bothering to ask her the same.

Wilma cleared her throat and thankfully decided to forego small talk and get straight to the point.

“I’m calling about the receptionist job you applied for. Mr. Lambert and Mr. Weaver were very impressed with you at the second interview,” Wilma began and I almost called bullshit.

I’m sure they had felt many things about me. Impressed was not one of them.

“Oh, well that’s nice to hear,” I replied lamely.

Wilma cleared her throat again. Flynn would have asked her if she needed a drink of water. Sometimes I wished I could get away with being so direct without coming off like a bitch.