Page 7 of Bodyguard By Night
Merry took the tape gun from me. “You don’t have to pack things up.”
“I don’t want to take up space.”
Merry winced. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh, but I think it is.” I swung open doors, pulling out my pans. I stacked all my baking sheets, bowls, measuring cups, gadgets, and silicone molds on the island. Everything started sliding, and Den turned up the volume even more.
In a daze, I washed dishes, scrubbed the sink, and then cleaned the counters. I tried my best to erase my very existence from the kitchen. I stuffed down the sadness. The first kernel of what I was meant to be had started right here on this faded Formica counter. Late night brownies had become brookies—a cookies and brownies mashup.
I’d tried to crack the recipe from a bakery in Manhattan. Just for fun.
For people who didn’t live in New York City.
For me, because I was a poor idiot who didn’t have anything better to do than to rip apart a recipe in the dead of night. And that night had changed everything for me.
I dashed away a tear and dumped the perfect choux pastries in the garbage. They wouldn’t survive a trip in my SUV. I definitely wouldn’t be bringing my inferior pastries to my Aunt Laverne’s place. Not when I was going to be begging for a place to stay.
I climbed onto my step stool to make sure I didn’t miss anything in the higher cabinets. Every once in awhile, I sniffed back an onslaught of tears. Merry stared up at me, her eyes equally watery.
Shaking my head, I gave her a hard stare. I wouldn’t get through this if she tried to placate me or make excuses. I didn’t want to stay where I wasn’t wanted.
Merry put together another box and I filled it. Again and again, until I was literally deleted from our—their—cramped kitchen. I moved on to my room, dumping piles of laundry into any bag I could get my hands on.
It took five trips to load everything into my old Santa Fe SUV.
And I damn well took the cart—I just wouldn’t think about its origin story.
My evil villain cart named…Loki.
I swallowed down a laugh. Dammit, the cart was so freaking pretty. Just like his namesake.
Merry came out with a large suitcase. “I really don’t want you driving while you’re so upset, especially since it’s dark. Can’t you wait until tomorrow?”
“It’s fine. I like driving at night.” I took the suitcase and crammed it into the passenger side. Loki took up most of the back. I’d packed around him.
Flashbacks of doing the same when I left college threatened to strangle me. Everything was too much the same. The memories of the fear and loss crowding up my throat ready to bubble into a sob.
“You’re really not leaving, are you? Like not for really real.”
I gave her a tight smile, but itfeltfor real. I swallowed hard against the wash of anxiety. I needed to focus on the now.
Besides, packing up the kitchen stuff was all that was important beyond my clothes. Kinda put a serious stamp on the finality of it. I’d lived there for three years. But the only thing that truly mattered was what I’d done in the kitchen.
I pulled her into a hug. “I’ll pay rent until I figure it out.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She gripped me harder.
“I know.” I swayed with her for an extra minute before pulling back. “Maybe it’ll be better in a few weeks.”
But I knew it wouldn’t. And Merry knew it too.
“Tell the girls I said goodbye. I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff…soon.”
“Dammit, Wil.” Her navy-blue eyes filled.
“A change will do everyone some good.”
Merry dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “I didn’t think today would go this way.”