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I look at the broken shelf, then at the jars scattered across the floor. “Why did you put those jars on it? I left it empty for a reason.”

She gives me an angry look. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“Because it’s hanging crooked.”

She throws her hands in the air. “The entire house is hanging crooked!”

“Calm down, Romy.”

She narrows her eyes. “How do you know my name?”

“Because it’s on the card you gave me earlier.”

“Oh, right.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And I’m Otis, by the way. Not that you even bothered to ask.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I was too busy trying to figure out why you’re living here.”

“Right.” I grab a broom and dustpan. “I’ve been slowly fixing up the place, but haven’t gotten around to that shelf. I can fix it now, if you want. You’ll have to replace the jars, though.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. It’s kind of amusing. For once, Romy doesn’t have a snarky comeback.

“Fine, I guess fixing it is the least you can do for me right now.”

I hand her the broom. “You can clean up the glass shards while I go grab my tools.”

Romy takes the broom and dustpan and starts sweeping the floor. She’s looking a bit less angry than before, so I count that as a win.

I head back to the shed and grab my toolbox, as well as one of the spare shelf brackets I have lying around. When you live in a place that’s slowly falling apart, you learn to stock up on these kinds of things.

By the time I get back to the kitchen, Romy has already swept most of the glass into the dustpan. She’s on her knees, carefully picking a larger piece out from underneath one of the cabinets.

“Watch your fingers,” I say and put my toolbox on the counter.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I know how to pick up glass, Otis.”

“Considering you apparently don’t know better than to use a shelf that’s hanging half off the wall, I figured I’d better warn you.”

She looks up at me and sighs. “You know, you’re not exactly making a strong case for why I should let you stay.”

I turn around and inspect the shelf instead of giving her a reply. One of the brackets has pulled loose from the wall, taking the screws with it. The old screw holes are useless, but there’s enough solid wood beside them to secure a new bracket. It’ll definitely be sturdier than it was before.

“Is there a vacuum somewhere?” Romy asks behind me.

“Closet underneath the stairs.”

“Thanks.”

I glance over my shoulder as she gets up. “Why?”

“Because it’s glass.” She gestures at the floor. “That stuff gets everywhere. I don’t want to step on a tiny shard three days from now because I missed one under the fridge.”

Three days from now. She’s not planning on leaving, which shouldn’t come as a surprise. Romy bought this place and came here with all her stuff. Of course she’s still going to be here in three days, but hearing her talk about it makes everything feel a lot more real.

She’s not leaving. I’m supposed to.

I turn back to the shelf and grab my drill. Fuck that. I’ll figure something out. There has to be a way for both of us to stay here until I can find another solution. I know I don’t have any right to stay, but this place is the only home I’ve had since my life fell apart. I’m not ready to lose it. The cottage has two bedrooms upstairs. I’ve been using one for storage, but I could clear it out if Romy agrees to let me stay. Not sure she’s is going to like that idea, but I can at least try to convince her I’d be a great roommate.