I frown. “I know, but—“
He lowers himself until his brown eyes are level with mine. “We’ve got it and you. You don’t have to worry about logistics like this anymore.”
It makes my stomach twist. I believe him. That’s the hard part. They show up again and again, steady and sure, with no asks in return.
I don’t know what to do with that.
I glance down at my coffee, fingers tightening around the cup. “I’m still working. Getting paid. I feel like I should do more.”
Wes leans against the counter near the toaster, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You’ve been doing everything alone for years. Let us carry something for once. We’re not saying you can’t contribute to the house, just that you don’t have to worry about this expense.”
That catches me off guard more than anything else. I nod. Not because I agree, but because I don’t know how to argue with that kind of care.
Ford nods. “What he said. Now, shoes on, we need to head out the door.”
I follow him to the entrance and slip on my shoes. The bagel warms in my hand, and the coffee’s sweet maple scent begs for me to take a sip. They really have taken care of everything.
It’s strange to feel looked after.
The movers are already outside my building when we pull up. One leans against the railing, scrolling his phone. Another adjusts the dolly in the back of the truck. Logan’s out before the engine shuts off, greeting them as if he’s done this a hundred times.
I hold the travel mug in both hands. The heat’s faded, but it still smells like maple syrup and cream. I glance up at my building through the front window from the backseat. It already feels foreign. It’s been over a week since I stepped foot here.
Jace is behind the wheel. Wes sits in the passenger seat.Ford sits beside me in the back, one arm slung across the top of the seat. He taps his fingers against my shoulder. “You ready to go in, or do you need a minute?”
I shake my head and place my mug in the cupholder. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this show moving so you aren’t late for practice.”
I lead them and the six movers into the building and up the elevator to my apartment. The inside looks smaller than I remember, or maybe it’s always looked this way; boxy, functional, filled with things that made me feel safe, not seen.
Logan walks in behind me, eyes scanning the room. “How do you want to do this?”
I glance around. None of the furniture feels like mine anymore.“Let the movers take the kitchen and living room. We’ll do my room and the bathroom. Donate the furniture. All of it.”
He nods and turns toward the guys outside. The plan’s already in motion.
Ford lingers by the door, eyes sweeping the walls. Wes moves toward the hallway without hesitation, Jace not far behind, before they stop and wait for me to lead them to the bedroom.
The bedroom is dimmer than the rest of the place, with the curtains still half-drawn. Crossing the room, I open them along with the window to get some fresh air in here.
Logan returns a minute later, carrying a fresh stack of flattened boxes and a roll of tape from the movers. Cardboard scrapes quietly against the floor as he sets them near the foot of the bed. He flips open a box.“What do you want packed first?” He grabs some tape and seals up the bottom before handing it off and doing the same to the rest.
I glance around the room. “We’ll start with the bookshelf. I want everything on it. I don’t need the bed, but I want the bedding for my nest.” I point to each area. “Then my closet we’ll do together. I know there are a bunch of things I don’t wear anymore that I should donate.”
The guys nod. Each moving to the bookshelf to get it packaged up. Logan goes and grabs a roll of bubble wrap from the movers. In no time, the large bookshelf is done, and I’m shocked.
We move on to the closet. I’d just done laundry, so everything’s clean. I sort clothes into piles while one of them grabs a trash bag for donations. We fall into an easy rhythm. They fold and box what I’m keeping. I try to make sure the donate pile is big, wanting to make room for some new clothes.
By the time we’re done with everything, only an hour has passed. Had I done this on my own, it would’ve taken several hours. I glance around, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything, since the furniture will go to donate. I want different shelves for my nest.
Then I remember the bins under the bed. I drop to my knees and slide one out with a grunt. It catches on the carpet. Jace crouches beside me and nudges it free.
“Thank you.” I open the first bin and peer inside. Just sweaters and cashmere items. Things I don’t want any bugs to find. I’llkeep them. The next bin is what I want to go through. My keepsake bin. Full of things I can’t let go of.
I pull out a fuzzy purple leopard-print photo album. My child self had such interesting tastes in what I thought looked cool or pretty. I brush dust off the plastic slip that says:Summer Camp ’10with my sleeve.
Jace sits next to me on the floor as the others come to stand behind us, staring over my shoulder. He tilts his head at it. “Are these from the camp with us?”
“Yeah. First year.” I sit back, legs stretched out in front of me. “My parents sent me with three disposable cameras.”
