Good Girl Complex(Avalon Bay #1)(29)

On which she promptly pees.

“Motherfucker,” I grumble.

Evan instantly becomes a mother hen, grabbing paper towels and cooing at his new girlfriend as he sops up her pee puddle. “It’s okay, pretty girl. We all have accidents.”

We’re still working out this whole dog-training thing, learning as we go from vet blogs and pet websites. All I know is, in the past seven days I’ve cleaned up more piss and dog shit than I ever intended in my life. That thing’s lucky she’s so cute. Last week, after the vet at the shelter confirmed the dog wasn’t chipped and had probably been abandoned for some time, I didn’t have the heart to stick her in a cage or abandon her again. I might be a bastard, but I’m not without mercy. So the vet gave us some special food to fatten her up, sent us on our way, and now we have a dog.

And a busy day of manual labor, if Evan would quit fawning over his pretty girl.

This morning, I woke up with a fire under my ass to get stuff done. Evan and I have the day off, so I decided, what the hell, there’s never going to be a right time to start getting this house in better shape. It’s the only lousy legacy our family has left. So I shook Evan out of bed early, and we headed to the hardware store to figure out what we would need.

First job on the home renovation list: replacing the roof. It’s not going to be cheap. Digs into my savings quite a bit, but Evan kicked in half with some convincing. At least doing the work ourselves will save us a few grand.

“Come on, we should get started,” I tell my brother. We plan to spend the rest of the day pulling the old roof off, and then tomorrow we’ll lay down the new materials. Shouldn’t take us more than a couple of days if we work fast.

“Let’s go for a quick walk first. It’ll tire her out so she’ll sleep while we work.”

Without awaiting my response, he scoops up the puppy and heads for the back door, where her leash is hanging on a hook.

“Swear to God, if you’re not back in ten minutes, I’m returning her to the shelter.”

“Fuck off. She’s here to stay.”

Sighing, I watch him and the dog scamper down the deck steps toward the sand. Our delivery from the hardware store hasn’t arrived yet, but we could at least be making ourselves useful by prepping the current roof. Unfortunately, Evan’s work ethic isn’t as solid as mine. My brother will find any opportunity to procrastinate.

On the deck, I rest my forearms against the railing and grin when I see the golden retriever make a beeline for the water. There goes her newfound softness. Serves Evan right.

As I wait, I pull out my phone and text Mac.

Me: How about Potato?



Her response is almost instantaneous. Makes my ego swell a bit, knowing I’ve got priority in her texting queue.

Mackenzie: Absolutely not.

Me: Mary Pawpins?

Mackenzie: Better. I’m saying Daisy.

Me: Can you get any more generic?

Mackenzie: You’re generic.

Me: Nah babe, I’m one of a kind.

Mackenzie: Not your babe.

Me: Whatcha doing right now?

Mackenzie: In class.



She follows that up with a gun emoji next to a girl’s head emoji. I snicker at my phone.

Me: That bad?

Mackenzie: Worse. I stupidly chose biology for my required science. Why are all the species names in Latin!!! And I forgot how much I hate cell theory! Did you know the cell is the most basic building block of life?

Me: I thought that was sex.



Mackenzie sends an eye roll emoji, then says she has to go because her professor is starting to call on students to answer questions. I don’t envy her.

Even though Garnet has decent scholarship opportunities for locals, I’ve never had any desire to attend college. I don’t see the point. Everything I need to know about construction or woodworking, I can learn from my uncle, online, or in library books. Last year, I took some bookkeeping classes at the community center in town so I could learn to better manage our finances (as meager as they are), but that only cost me a hundred bucks. Why the hell would I ever pay twenty-five grand per semester to be told cells are important and that we evolved from apes?

A honk from the front of the house catches my attention. Our order’s here.

Out front, I greet Billy and Jay West with fist bumps and good-natured back slaps. They’re some of the old crew, grew up in the Bay. Though we don’t see much of them these days.

“This ought to be everything you need,” Billy says, opening the tailgate of the pickup truck. We had to buy and borrow some specific tools, get an air compressor and whatnot. On the trailer, he’s got the new shingles on pallets.

“Looks good,” I say, helping him haul things off the truck.

“Dad said there’s no charge on the compressor if you can get it back to him by Monday. And he’s giving you the underlayment and valley flashing at cost.”

“Appreciate it, B,” I say, shaking his hand.

Around the Bay, we watch out for each other. We have our own bartering system—do me a favor today, I help you out tomorrow. It’s the only way most of us have survived the storms over the past couple years. You need to be able to rely on your neighbors to come together, support one another; otherwise, this whole town goes to shit.

Billy, Jay, and I unload the trailer in the blistering heat, all three of us drenched in sweat by the time we lift the last pallet. We’re setting it on the ground when Billy’s phone rings, and he wanders off to take the call.