Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(39)

On Wednesday morning, I wake up to find that the remaining leaves have blown off the trees, thanks to the storm we had last night. The remnants of it color the sky gray and make the day feel dank and dreary.

Despite the crappy weather, I pull on my running shoes, throw a hoodie over my T-shirt, and head toward the park for a run. I might also be planning to run by Clover’s place. Not that I expect her to be standing in her driveway, but I still feel like crap for the way I left things on Monday. If there’s even a remote chance I could run into her and apologize, I’ll take it.

Luck seems to be on my side today, because as I jog past her house, I notice a ladder propped up against the siding and a familiar figure, wearing a black cardigan, standing precariously on the second step from the top, feeling around in the gutter.

The house is a story and a half, dormers at the front, presumably so all the ceilings aren’t slanted on the second floor. The roofline isn’t particularly high at the front of the house, but still, it’s a good twelve feet up at the lowest point.

I slow to a stroll as she reaches in again and tosses a handful of muck-covered leaves to the driveway below. She’s wearing yellow rubber kitchen gloves, and her face is a mask of disgust. She looks down and blows out a breath, grabbing the ladder with both hands, as if she suddenly realizes how high she is.

“Hey, Clover, what are you doing up there?” I call out.

She startles and flails, and I rush to hold the ladder steady so she doesn’t set it off balance.

“Whoa! Careful. Can you come down before you break your neck, please?”

“You scared the crap out of me!”

“I seem to be really good at that. You shouldn’t be on a ladder without a spotter, though.”

“I didn’t realize how high I was. Am.” Her voice is pitchy as she clutches the ladder with both hands and lowers one foot, tapping the air until her toes find the next step. She repeats the process until she’s low enough that I can reach her foot.

“I’m gonna guide you down, all right?”

“Okay. Yes. That would be great.”

She’s wearing a pair of flats, the soles of which are worn, and the ladder is wet, making it slippery. I wrap my hand around her bare ankle and guide her foot to the next rung, then do the same with the other until she’s low enough that I can grab her by the waist and lift her to the ground.

She spins around. “You shouldn’t yell at people on ladders.”

I cock a brow. “Like I said, you shouldn’t be on a ladder without a spotter. And based on how uncomfortable you seemed up there, you shouldn’t be on a ladder at all.”

“I was fine until you scared me.”

“Really? Because you didn’t look fine with the way you were flailing around. And your face is all red. Are your hands shaking? Are you afraid of heights?”

“No. Yes.” She blows a loose tendril of hair out of her face, and when it falls right back into place, she tries to swipe it away with the back of her gloved hand. “Maybe a little.”

“What were you doing up there?” I motion to the ladder.

“The gutters are clogged, and there’s a leak in my bathroom. I think it’s coming through the wall, but I can’t be sure. The landlord is away, so I figured I could climb up there and get whatever was blocking it out, and then the leak or whatever is going on in the wall would stop. But it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“Want me to climb up and look? I can check out your bathroom too.” I have zero experience with plumbing and leaks, but Kody and my cousin BJ recently had their entire kitchen redone because of an electrical issue, so I can probably call the guys who did the work over there if I need to.

“I’m sure you have better things to do with your time—like working on the assignment you missed because you skipped my class last night.” She gives me a pointed look.

“Sorry about that. I needed to work out some personal stuff.”

“Would that personal stuff be related to our conversation on Monday?” She clears her throat. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I shouldn’t have left like I did. I felt like an asshole. Feel like an asshole, still. I’m the one who brought it up in the first place, not you. I didn’t know how to handle the conversation, so I bailed. I apologize for that.” I motion toward the ladder. “Now can I help you with the gutters?”

“Is that you closing this discussion?”

“For now, yeah. You gonna let me take care of this?” I tap the ladder.

“I was fine.”

“If you mean fine in the sense that you’re hot as hell, then yeah. But if you mean you’re a pro on a ladder, I’d be inclined to disagree.” She crosses her arms, and I grin. “Do you happen to have gardening gloves handy?”

She shucks off the yellow rubber kitchen gloves. “Maybe in the shed.”

“Let’s take a look, then.” I motion for her to lead the way.

We walk down the driveway, between Clover’s car and her bestie’s, parked side by side, past a deck with a hot tub, and a set of stairs that lead to the second-floor apartment. We cross the lawn to the back fence where a small, rusted-out garden shed sits. The flowers around it have been trimmed back, dormant until spring. I step in front of her and put my hand over the handle before she can reach it.