Page 35 of Covert Operation

I’m always tired, but not in the way she’s suggesting. “The sooner we start that garage, the sooner we can be done.” I know there’s no way we can get through everything tonight, but I’m determined to get that SUV inside before I leave. No way is Savannah freezing her ass off in the morning.

She wrinkles her nose, scrunching her face up at me. “I knew you were going to say that.” Tossing the towel to the counter, she sighs. “Fine. Let’s get started.”

“I love your enthusiasm.” I motion to the stairs leading to the lower level. “After you.”

We spend the next half hour moving boxes around and coming up with a game plan. As I expected, there’s way too much to move in one night, but I think we can clear enough space for her to park inside, and that’s all I want.

The timer on Savannah’s phone starts to go off right as I reach for the newly unearthed coffee table. I lift it as she silences the alarm. “I’ll take this up as we go.”

Savannah scans the mess before grabbing a small box. “I guess I’ll take this.” It’s still obvious the task overwhelms her, but hopefully it’s a little less daunting with me helping her tackle it.

When we get to the main level, I carry the table over and set it in front of the sofa while she checks on dinner. When I rejoin her in the kitchen, Savannah is scooping out a mountain of chicken and rice into a bowl. She stabs a spoon into the pile and hands it over. “Here you go. Tell me what you think.”

I don’t hesitate. It smells fucking delicious, and I’m starving. Not just for food in my stomach, but also to fill that space only a home-cooked meal can. I didn’t think it had one, since home-cooked meals weren’t big in my childhood, but I must’ve grown it over time. Brock, a member of Team Rogue, loves to cook, and I guess I developed a taste for it.

After gently blowing across the steaming hot bite loaded onto the spoon, I shovel it into my mouth. There’s no stopping the groan of bliss that comes out of me. Brock is a good cook, but this is fucking magical. “It’s fantastic.”

Savannah beams at me, her whole face lighting up. “Yeah?”

I nod, already digging in for another mouthful. “Yeah.”

She rocks up on her toes, clearly thrilled. “I’m glad you like it.” She spins away, going back to the fridge. “What do you want to drink? I have juice, milk, and Dr Pepper.”

That is an interesting selection. “I haven’t had a Dr Pepper in years.”

She grins at me over one shoulder. “Then you’re due.” She grabs two cans, collects her own bowl of dinner, and instead of leading me to the dining room table we uncovered, goes straight for the couch.

She sighs as she sets her bowl and the drinks onto the coffee table I just carried up. “It’s so nice to have a table here again.” She settles onto the couch, cradling her bowl in her lap as she leans back against the cushions. “I’ve been balancing things on my lap and it’s a huge pain in the ass.”

I sit down beside her, spooning in more food as I settle into place. “Then you should have asked me for help sooner.”

Savannah watches me, her expression thoughtful. “You’re right. I should have.”

FIFTEEN

SAVANNAH

I SWALLOW DOWN another mouthful of scalding hot coffee, hoping the caffeine will offer the motivation I’m lacking. Zeke was amazing last night at helping me move the majority of my stuff to its general location, but now I’m faced with the daunting task of getting everything to its final destination.

Alone.

Every inch of me wants to take the day off, sit on my couch, and maybe read a book or watch television, but I feel like I would be letting Zeke down if I did that. He worked all day yesterday to help me. The least I can do is help myself.

So I drink some more coffee, roll my head around to relieve the tension collected from hauling countless piles of shit up two flights of stairs, and go to work. The first space I’m tackling is the spare bedroom. It will be the easiest…I think.

The bed in here took up a large portion of the garage bay now housing my borrowed SUV, so it had to be brought upstairs. Now that it’s here, I’m kind of wondering what the point is. I don’t have guests. Sadie has her own bed literally right nextdoor, and all my friends live within walking distance. I don’t know why it seems so useless to me now. I don’t know that anyone ever slept in the spare bedroom at my old house, but I still had it set up and decorated beautifully.

So, I might as well do it again.

Thankfully, Zeke helped me assemble the bed and placed the box spring and mattress onto the frame, so that part is done. Since the bed is already put together, adding sheets, pillows, and blankets seems like a logical next step.

I pry open the flaps on the box containing all of the linens and fish out the sheets. I start to put them on the bed, but after spending a year in storage, they smell stale and dusty, so I carry them to the laundry room on the main floor and shove them—along with the duvet cover—into the washer and set it to run.

Before going back upstairs, I grab a bottle of fabric refresher to spray over the pillows and duvet. Once that’s done, I dig into the rest of the shit piled up.

Again, thanks to Zeke’s help, the nightstand and dresser are both up here. Since I don’t have quite as much upper body strength as he does, we brought the drawers up separately, then slowly carried the dresser itself. He humored my frequent breaks to complain about what a terrible idea this is. I still hold that opinion. But as I start placing the decorations I’ve accumulated over the years into their new homes, I begin to finally feel a little more like this condo belongs to me.

Sure, I own it—I understand that technically means it’s mine—but it never felt that way. It’s been more like staying in a hotel. I’ve been comfortable enough, but it always felt transitory, lacking the permanence a home should feel. It still doesn’t feellike home, but it looks a little more the way I would want my home to look.