The Roommate Lie: A Sweet Romantic Comedy, page 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Sydney Muse
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Cover Ever After
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Epilogue
A Note from Syd
By Sydney Muse
About the Author
Author’s Note
This is a lighthearted romcom that’s full of banter, meddling neighbors, and troublemaking wildlife. Here’s what else readers can expect.
Heat level: Chemistry and kisses
Language/Violence: None
Possible triggers: parental infidelity/divorce (past), parent death (past), alcoholism (past), cheating ex-boyfriend, vision loss diagnosis for a side character
That last one is based on my own experience with a genetic vision condition called Stargardt’s, and I hope legally blind readers will appreciate seeing a character on the page who’s a little more like them. Happy reading!
Chapter One
CHARLIE
There are tons of ways to greet someone new, and only a few of them are proven to inspire violence.
Lucky me.
My shift is almost over when the Number 5 shuttle bus rolls in from Denver. Ponderosa Falls is the final stop, but I barely notice as the last few passengers file out. This is what I get for sharing a ticket counter with my older brother.
Carl is as distracting as it gets. He accidentally fell in love with his best friend last Christmas—after they got married—and he’s telling me about a surprise he has planned for her birthday when someone approaches the ticket counter and clears their throat. Very politely. Almost too politely.
It’s the nicest, sweetest throat clear I’ve ever heard, a real I hate to bother you situation. Which instantly makes me feel guilty. Turning around, I try to look helpful, like a model employee. Then I set the world on fire…accidentally.
The woman at the counter is probably my age, early twenties, and she looks surprisingly cheerful for someone who’s been on a mountain shuttle bus for hours. All freckles and sunshine and braided red hair that’s as bright as a copper penny.
How can I help you?
That’s what I should say. Or hello or what can I do for you today? Instead, something sparks in my brain, a vague movie memory I didn’t know I’d held on to. The curse of growing up with an older sister.
“Hey, Carrots. Can we help you with something?”
Carrots?
Did I just call a redheaded stranger Carrots?
I have no idea how it happened, how my brain knew better but did it anyway. Except that’s the Charlie Roscoe special, and I probably should’ve seen this coming.
It doesn’t matter that I said it politely, that I meant well. I utter that fateful word, and my older brother gasps. Thanks to our sister, we’ve seen that movie a hundred times—we know how this part ends.
I’ve committed the ultimate ginger sin. The woman in front of us is about to go full Anne of Green Gables, and I brace for impact. For the blunt force trauma I deserve for calling any woman Carrots.
But she’s smiling.
I refer to her as a root vegetable, and her lips tilt upward. Even when she tries to fight it, pressing her mouth into a grim line, I can tell she isn’t upset. Which is all the encouragement I need.
“Aren’t people in small towns supposed to be nicer?” she teases, and her voice is just a little bit soft, a little bit shy—the perfect amount.
“Probably. Guess this is your unlucky day.”
I keep my voice light, but I’m not kidding. In Ponderosa Falls, I’m basically a walking bad omen, the last person you’d ever want to meet straight off the shuttle bus. And that irony is not lost on my current employer.
The woman at the counter gives me a careful once-over like she’s thinking the same thing. As if she can already tell I’m the worst thing about this cute small town. Then she shakes her head.
“Do you always prey on unsuspecting redheads at the bus station? How very Gilbert Blythe of you.”
Did she just compare me to Gilbert Blythe? Maybe I’m not an Anne of Green Gables expert, but I’m pretty sure that’s a compliment. He was Anne’s nemesis turned friend turned soulmate, and I’m two seconds away from blushing like a ginger orphan in a Canadian literary masterpiece.
So I ruin it.
I can’t help myself.
It’s the kind smile she’s giving me that does me in. This stranger is being way too nice, and she’s a lot sweeter than I’m used to. Making sure she knows I’m bad news suddenly feels important, like I’m saving her from something, and I guess I am—me.
Or maybe I’m not doing her any favors. Maybe old habits just die hard.
Either way, I don’t think about what happens next. She gives me that friendly tourist smile, and I’m all instinct. Leaning closer, I rest my forearms on the ticket counter and fix my gaze on hers. A faint blush colors her cheeks as my smile shifts into something a little more intentional. A little more dangerous.
“How Gilbert Blythe of me? Are you hitting on me, Carrots?”
Her brown eyes widen, and her blush deepens. Which would be pretty adorable if it didn’t make me feel guilty.
“Hitting on you?” she stammers.
My brother elbows me out of the way, smacking me with a bus schedule. Proof that at least one Roscoe knows how to keep things professional. That’s why he’s the assistant manager, not me.
“Ignore him,” Carl tells her. “He likes to try to get fired every now and then. It makes him feel alive.”
She smiles at my brother gratefully, and the oddest feeling pulls in my chest. I’m not usually the jealous type, but if I could snatch that grateful smile away from him and make it mine instead, I would.
“What can I help you with today?” he asks.
“Is there a shuttle bus to the wilderness resort? I thought there was, but I’ve been waiting for a few hours, and it hasn’t shown up.”
A few hours?
It’s been a normal slow Monday here so far. Besides our town bus, the school bus, and the local shuttle up Four Pines Peak, the only other transport vehicle to roll through here is the Number 5 from Denver; it shows up twice a day like clockwork. Has she really been sitting in the lobby since that bus showed up the first time at noon?
How did I miss that? How did Carl miss that?
My brother must be thinking the same thing because he launches into damage control. “I’m so sorry about the wait. The resort is usually pretty good about sending their van over when they’re expecting guests. Let me call and see what’s taking them so long.”
The woman holds up her hand to stop him. “I’m not technically a guest, maybe that’s the problem. I’m just here to visit my boyfriend—he works there. I don’t have a reservation.”
Her boyfriend?
That makes me feel a thousand times worse about my big production a few minutes ago, about going out of my way to scare her off when she was here for some other guy all along. A blush still stains her cheeks from my comment earlier, and I try to catch her gaze. I’m not sure how to apologize with my eyes, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
Except she won’t look at me. She keeps her gaze locked on Carl like her life depends on it. Like he’s the sole nice-guy raft in a sea of flirty sharks.
Nice work, Charlie.
Way to spook the tourist.
“Your boyfriend works at the resort?” Carl asks, and she no
“He was supposed to meet me at the bus station, but something must’ve come up.”
She says that like she doesn’t know for sure, as if she hasn’t heard from her boyfriend since she got here four hours ago, and Carl presses his lips together without comment. He’s the nice Roscoe—the kind and responsible one that you’d never guess grew up on the wrong side of the tracks—and in true Good Guy fashion, he shoots me a quiet look she can’t see. His message as clear as the mountain peaks and pine trees through the bus station windows.
What kind of guy leaves their girlfriend stranded for hours?
The bad kind. Carl and I know the type. Our middle-child sister had a real weakness for deadbeats. The more they took her for granted, the longer she stuck around.
Together, my brother and I have vanquished more bad boyfriends than a priest at a vampire convention. We know the drill, and Carl treads carefully. Forever the peace treaty to my nuclear bomb. “He was supposed to meet you here?”
She gives him another casual nod, but her face pinks up a few extra degrees like she doesn’t want to admit this next part. As if she knows how bad it sounds. “It’s our anniversary.”
The fact that we both keep our expressions level is a miracle. Carl and I deserve an Academy Award. It’s their anniversary?
Roscoe boys can spot a red flag a mile away; we were raised by one. And a guy who doesn’t tell his girl he’s not picking her up at the bus station is definitely a red flag. But if it’s also their anniversary?
Double red flag. And those flags are on fire.
Nobody should spend their anniversary stranded at a bus station with no idea what to do next. I haven’t even met this guy, and I already don’t want to. This guy cannot be trusted.
But it’s worse than that. She hesitates before giving us the final detail. “It’s probably my fault. He texted right before I left that I should cancel my trip—things at his job are just too hectic. But I was busy and distracted, and I forgot my phone was on silent. I didn’t see his message until I was already halfway here.”
She’s about to get her heart broken.
I can’t prove it, but I can feel it in the air. Her boyfriend canceled last minute, and now she can’t reach him? On their anniversary? Either that man is truly swamped at work and this is all a misunderstanding, or he didn’t want her to come out here for a different reason. And now he’s avoiding her.
Beside me, Carl—good, responsible Carl—must be thinking the same thing. Because he does the unthinkable.
“Is there a taxi in town I can call?” she asks. “I just need to get to the resort.”
My brother shakes his head and tells his first lie of the week. Maybe the entire year. “Just one, but it isn’t very reliable. Even if we call, there’s no telling if they’ll actually show up.”
The only truth in that statement is the “just one” part. While there’s always been only one taxi cab in Ponderosa Falls, Reba Tipton always shows up. What she won’t do is care about how bad your boyfriend is and make sure everything’s fine before she ditches you at your stop. And the girl in front of us is going to need a lot more than a quick drop-off. We’re going to have to make sure she’s okay.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m no angel, but I’m nothing like the guys my sister dated. I know how to take care of what’s mine, and I know how to step up when I need to. Besides, Roscoe boys don’t leave any girl stranded. Maybe our dad was a walking red flag, but our mom raised us better than that.
Carl scratches his hand along his beard. “You know what? Why don’t we let Charlie drive you to the resort?”
It pains him to say that, though not as much as it pains her to hear it. That blush on her cheeks goes lava red, and she still won’t look at me. But neither of them has much of a choice.
Carl is the assistant manager, and our boss has the day off. His shift lasts until closing, but I’m off the clock in the next few minutes. And the girl with the bad boyfriend? It’s pretty clear she’s stranded, that she needs my help, but she throws out a few Hail Marys.
“Is there a city bus I could take or a rideshare? I’d hate to be a bother.”
Carl shakes his head, and this time he’s telling the truth. “Ponderosa Falls is too small and isolated for rideshares. It isn’t worth the effort for drivers. And our local bus doesn’t go to the resort. It just drives from one side of town to the other.”
The woman sighs, and her blush holds steady as she finally glances at me, stuck. There’s so much apprehension in her eyes, it makes that feeling pull in my chest again. Twice in the last five minutes—that must be some kind of record. The sensation feels a lot like regret, but I refuse to speculate.
I try to look trustworthy, harmless, but she’s not buying it. Not after the stunt I pulled earlier. There’s no such thing as a friendly shark.
Carl tries to reassure her next. “Charlie’s an idiot, but he’s a responsible idiot. He’ll get you there in one piece.”
She still doesn’t look relieved. Mumbling a quick thank-you, she scurries to gather her luggage like a field mouse trying to brace for a winter storm. As if she can sense danger on the horizon, but there’s nothing she can do to stop it.
As soon as she leaves, my brother smacks me with a bus schedule again before tossing me his car keys. “Just get her where she needs to go, make sure everything’s fine, and get out of there.”
I nod, giving him a Scout’s honor salute that makes him smack me again. Harder this time.
“I’m serious. And, Charlie?”
Carl waits for me to glance over, until he’s sure he has my complete attention. Then his voice gets so serious, it makes regret pull in my chest one last time. Mostly because of what his words imply about me. About the kind of guy everyone thinks I am, even my older brother.
“Keep things professional, okay? No matter what.”
Chapter Two
ALICE
I’m riding in a car with a stranger, a guy from the bus station I met five minutes ago. I don’t even know his last name. If my father was a superhero who could sense danger, he would’ve put a stop to this a million times.
I kind of wish he would. Because I’m riding in a car with a stranger.
Once that realization sinks in, I’m done for. Charlie From the Bus Station says something harmless about the view, and I’m too busy looking for escape routes to respond.
There aren’t any, if you’re curious. Escape routes. Just a thin canyon road that’s carved into a mountain. Nothing but rocks on his side of the car and a steep drop-off on mine.
Even if I needed to escape, to fling myself out of his moving vehicle, there’s nowhere to go but down. Nothing to break my fall except miles of empty air before I hit the valley below. It’s the very definition of a last resort, but I tuck it away for later. Just in case.
“You okay over there?” Charlie asks as he eases around a bend in the road.
I nod.
Before he can ask any follow-up questions—or murder me while driving—my phone buzzes with a text. But it isn’t my father. Or my boyfriend.
Marcus: Did you get there safe? How’s our favorite grump? Has he swept you off your feet while scowling yet?
I can’t help smiling. Even trapped in a car, at the mercy of a stranger, my little brother has that effect on me. He’s the youngest Kilpatrick, the only boy I know who could’ve survived the chaos of his three older sisters, and he’s also the only sibling I have who isn’t back at my place in Texas, crashing at my condo. He’s in Virginia where he belongs. And he isn’t mad at me.
Miracle of miracles.
I picture him in his dorm at Virginia Tech, and my smile widens the tiniest bit. I consider keeping things light, glossing over the trickier parts of my day, but this is Marcus I’m dealing with. Usually, I can tell him anything. So I stick to the truth…sort of.
Alice: Jason couldn’t make it to the bus station. But I’m on my way to see him now. (And his sweet, sweet scowl.)
Marcus: He didn’t meet you? Did you have to get a rideshare?
Even over text, I can sense the tension in his response. Our dad isn’t convinced any mode of public transportation is safe enough for his daughters—especially rideshares—and I bite my lip, not sure how much I want to reveal.
