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“Yeah, I know.”He didn’t entirely—I’d left the most painful part out of my story—but I appreciated his support.

I put the key in the lock and turned it slowly.The lock popped, and I pushed the door open.

My landlady had left the a/c running, so the temperature wasn’t too hot.

I stepped in and Colin followed me, shutting the door behind him.I wasn’t certain what I’d been expecting, but this hadn’t been it.

The house was meticulous.No sign of the disaster that I’d left.No empty food wrappers, no strewn dirty clothes, no pop cans piled in a corner.The laminate floor shone.The furniture had all been removed.Likely sent to the garbage, given how stained it’d been.The dining room table was gone, and as I looked into the kitchen, that appeared pristine as well.Did Mrs.J.clean it out herself or did she hire people?I really hoped she hired people.She’d seen the mess, of course.

The day she’d found me.

“Are these your boxes?”Colin moved toward a pile in one corner.

“I…uh… I’ve never had boxes.Until I moved here, I never even had stuff to put in boxes.”Just a suitcase of clothes and a knapsack of books.My first few months here, I’d picked up a couple of things.But this had been Hank’s place, and so he’d owned everything.

When he’d abandoned me, he’d left everything behind.The stuff hadn’t been worth anything, but he’dgiftedit to me along with the cruelest of parting words.

Three months later, Mrs.J.had found me.

Near death.

Another hour, and I would’ve been.

I shuddered.“We should probably go through them quickly.I don’t want to take anything that isn’t mine.”

If Colin thought that was a weird idea—given everything was labeled as mine—he didn’t say anything.

Unable to stand any longer, I plopped onto the floor and pulled the closest box to me.I used my key to break the packing tape seal.Only realizing after the fact that I’d have no way to reseal it.

Fuck.

“This is all Hank’s shit.From what I can tell.”

“Okay.”Colin strode to the kitchen, coming back a moment later.“No garbage bags in the kitchen.Or recycling either.”

“I don’t want…this is good stuff.Surely there’s a charity…”

Like the one that had helped me.

“Right.I’ll run to the store and grab garbage and recycling bags as well as packing tape and a marker.Why don’t you search for local charities while I’m gone?I promise I won’t be long.”

He met my gaze, and I read the uncertainty.“I’ll be fine, Colin, I promise.”

“Okay.Give me ten.”

It turned out to be more like twenty.But he was an east-coast transplant who’d never lived in LA, and I hadn’t thought to give him directions to the store.

We spent the rest of the afternoon going through the boxes.

I’d located a charity shop who would take everything.And issue a tax receipt.I didn’t need it, but I’d give them Colin’s name.That would at least make up for some of the time he was dedicating to me.

He swore he’d planned the entire day for his appointment.

I didn’t really believe him, but I also couldn’t have done any of this without him.

Three hours later, we emerged from the charity shop.

I handed Colin the receipt.