Chapter Nine
It was three hours until midnight. Jack hated that he'd been watching the clock, waiting for Gwen's answer. He'd even restarted his stupid flip phone to make sure it was really working.
He scoffed at himself as he made himself a late dinner: frozen lasagna with a beer. Jack's house was barely a house: it was one room, with a little kitchen nook, a rickety dining table and two chairs, along with a bed in the corner. There was a small bathroom with a shower. Jack had built it himself, mostly because he hadn't been able to afford anything else at the time.
Now, apparently "tiny homes" like his were all the rage. He'd even had a few random tourists showing up on his doorstep for a tour in the last year, like his place was some damn museum. He'd shot one black look at them, and
