We decide on burgers, and while waiting for delivery, I make a list of essentials I need to retrieve from the apartment: clothes, toiletries, important documents, and my framed diploma… It's surprisingly little, considering I lived there for four years.
"You should unlink yourself from that shared calendar, you know," Alder says, watching me scroll through my phone. "Cut those digital ties."
"You're right." I delete the app entirely. "One less way for him to track me."
The burgers arrive, and we eat at the kitchen island, finalizing our plan. Alder will provide the muscle. I'll go straight for the essentials. In and out, there is minimal conversation if Brad happens to be there.
"What if he asks where I'm staying?" I ask, suddenly nervous.
"Tell him the truth," Alder says simply. "You're staying with me. Let him think we fuck all the time.”
I cross my legs and purse my lips, shaking my head at his candor. This plan awakens Alder's mischievous side, which borders on manic. But he’s more animated than I’ve seen and it’s adorable.
By the time we finish eating and load empty laundry baskets into Alder's car, my nervousness has transformed into something akin to excitement. There's something liberating about taking control like this, about having someone like Alder supporting me.
"Ready?" he asks as we pull up outside my old apartment building.
I take a deep breath. "Ready."
The apartment feels smaller than I remember, or maybe it's just that I'm seeing it through new eyes. The furniture I paid for, cheap though it may be. The decor I chose, create a home that now looks strange and unwelcoming.
"Nice place," Alder comments, looking around.
"It served its purpose." I head straight for the bedroom, pulling out the suitcases. "I'll start with clothes."
Alder follows, leaning against the doorframe as I start emptying my side of the closet. "Want me to help?"
"Sure. Dresser over there—top two drawers are mine."
We work in comfortable silence for a while, with me packing clothes as Alder empties my dresser drawers. It's strangely intimate, him handling my things, but not uncomfortable.
When we've filled the first basket, he asks, "Where's this office with the good stuff?"
"Second bedroom is down the hall."
While I continue to pack clothes and toiletries, Alder disappears to find Brad's stash. He returns a few minutes later, triumphantly holding up a small wooden box.
"Jackpot," he says with a grin. "And bonus—found these." He holds up a bag of gourmet chocolate-covered espresso beans. "Perfect for munchies."
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days.
He tucks the wooden box and the chocolates into his pocket. "How are we doing on time?"
I check my phone. "It's a little after eight. We should wrap up soon."
I'm just tucking my underwear and bras into the second basket when we hear it—keys in the front door lock.
"Shit," Alder whispers. "I thought you said he'd be out until nine."
"That's what the calendar said." My heart rate skyrockets. "He must have left early."
We freeze, listening to Brad as he enters the apartment. His voice carries down the hall—he's on the phone.
"No, babe, I told you it's fine. She's not an issue.” A pause. "Yeah, staying with your hockey player, apparently. Ridiculous, right?" Alder's face darkens at Brad's dismissive tone. "I just need to grab some papers, and I'll head over," Brad continues, his voice getting closer.
Alder looks at me, then at the bedroom door, then back at me. Before I can process what's happening, he moves toward me in two long strides.
"Trust me," he whispers, pressing me against the wall beside the bedroom door.
