Page 20 of Clear Shot (Lauderdale Knights #9)
Aiden
The next twenty-four hours are absolute chaos, and we don’t even have time to go back to the apartment until I get the call that the team is meeting in Montreal for the next set of games the day after tomorrow.
All home games for the week have been postponed but now that I have to travel, I have no choice but to head back to the apartment to try to get some of my stuff.
We’ve been staying at Remy’s simply because it’s easier and he has access to supplies that no one else has but it’s been exhausting. The super at my building left me a message saying I need to call him but there just hasn’t been time.
Hana, Jordan, Felix, and I have been volunteering at local shelters and soup kitchens, trying to help as best we can. Clearing debris, serving food to people who lost everything, and doing our best to help those who are less fortunate.
And now that I have to leave, guilt settles in my gut like a heavy cloud.
Not only do I feel guilty about my cushy life playing sports, I’m not sure how I feel about leaving my wife in the midst of the mess Hurricane Katherine left behind.
We haven’t discussed our new intimacy—there hasn’t been time for anything—but I’m sure it’s been on her mind as much as it’s been on mine.
I slow down as we pull up to my building and stop the bike out front.
The remote-controlled gate I normally go through to get into the parking area is gone, the doors that lead to the underground parking garage are wide open.
“That’s not good,” I mutter under my breath. I gun the engine and drive inside but stop almost immediately.
“Hey, Aiden.” The building superintendent waves as I get off my bike.
“What’s going on, Harvey?”
He shakes his head. “Parking garage fared okay but there’s a lot of damage to the apartments. Some of the storm shutters were old and the wind ripped them right off the building. Your side was impacted.”
“Shit.” I grab Hana’s hand and head for the entrance to the building.
“Elevator’s out,” Harvey yells after us.
Great.
I guess six floors of stairs is a good way to get some cardio in, but I turn to Hana.
“You good with the stairs?”
She nods. “Of course.”
We head up and I’m a little tentative as we get to my floor. Doors have been boarded or taped up, and we breeze past neighbors moving furniture, boxes, and handfuls of personal items.
“I think this is going to be bad,” she whispers.
“Dammit. We should have come to check on things sooner… I thought we were doing a good deed by helping the community but—” I cut off abruptly as we get to my apartment.
Someone—probably Harvey—nailed a few 2x4’s across the entrance because the door is open, hanging at a weird angle.
“Need a hammer?” My elderly neighbor, Mrs. Moskowitz, appears with one and proffers it. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your place, Aiden.”
“Thanks, Millie.” I take the hammer and use it to pull off the 2x4’s so we can get inside.
“Oh, no.” Hana’s voice is a soft cry that reflects my own reaction to the mess we encounter.
There’s two inches of water on the floor, along with shards of glass from where the windows blew out, and all kinds of debris and garbage. Everything is wet, my leather couch destroyed, the TV smashed on the floor. Kitchen cabinets are open, some empty, some still full.
“You should probably start with what you can salvage,” Millie says gently, trailing behind us. “I have a box of things over at my place, that I grabbed right after the storm when I realized you weren’t here.”
“Thanks, Millie,” I respond gratefully.
“I think most of your fancy suits are ruined,” she says.
“Millie, have you met my wife?” I ask since I haven’t introduced them yet. “This is Hana. This is my neighbor, Millie.”
“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” Millie says, smiling over her shoulder. “But congratulations to both of you.” She points to a box. “That’s all I could grab that looked somewhat valuable. I wish there was more.”
“I appreciate that you thought of me at all.” I lift the box. “Thanks again. We’re going to go assess the damage and call my insurance company.”
She nods.
We walk back across the hall and I put the box on the table, peering inside.
Right on top is a silver picture frame I’ve never seen before.
There’s a picture of Hana and me from the day we first met, and after staring at it for a moment, I gently lift it out of the box.
“When did you do this?” I ask softly.
She comes to stand beside me. “When you left on the first road trip. I wanted to make the apartment feel more homey and I thought a picture of us…” Her voice drifts off and she dips her head. Almost as if she’s embarrassed.
“Honey.” I pull her against me, gently lifting her chin. “I love that you did that. Thank you.” I lightly kiss her. “I’m really glad Millie was able to save it.”
“What are we going to do?” she whispers, looking around. “We’ve lost…everything.”
“It’s just stuff,” I say quietly. “We’re safe, our friends and family are safe, and we have each other. Everything is going to be fine. I can buy new stuff.”
“It’s just so—” She looks around, her eyes filled with sadness. “—devastating.”
“Yeah. It is.” I wrap my fingers around hers. “Come on. Let’s go see if there are any clothes we can salvage.”
The bedroom fared better than the living room and kitchen, but not by much.
The bed is damp but still intact, though I’m certainly not going to keep it, and the clothes in my dresser appear to be okay.
Since the door to the walk-in closet was closed, everything that was hanging appears unscathed, but shoes and suitcases that were on the floor are ruined.
I can tell Hana is upset about the damage to her things but she’s trying her best to hide it.
“We can get you more shoes,” I say gently, since there are a dozen ruined pairs on the floor, along with a few of mine.
“Yes. I know.” She swallows. “But I saved up a long time for my Louboutins.”
“Your what?”
She shakes her head, looking at something on her phone. “It doesn’t matter. Johan just texted and said his house fared well, so they’ve invited us to stay with them.”
“Okay, great. I’m glad you have somewhere safe to be while I’m on the road.”
She freezes. “You’re…leaving?”
“Yeah, I told you.” I pause. “Didn’t I? I’m meeting the team in Montreal the day after tomorrow.”
“Oh.” She looks a little shaken, and I reach for her.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. This is…a lot. We’re homeless and most of our stuff is ruined and now you’re leaving.” She clamps her hand over her mouth as tears puddle in her eyes.
“Hey, come here.” I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. “Everything’s okay. I’ll hire a realtor while I’m gone and they can find us a new place to live. You’ll be with Sloane at your brother’s, and by the time I get back, we’ll be ready to move. Don’t worry about stuff… I can buy you more.”
“I don’t care about stuff!” She bursts into tears.
“Shh.” I stroke her hair and hold her tighter. “Tell me what it’s about. Are you scared?”
“N-no.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s you. Us. We just—I mean, what we did, and now you’re leaving and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or how to act or feel or?—”
“Hey.” I gently shake her, pulling away enough so I can look into her teary face.
“Is that what this is about? Us making love?” I sigh, mentally cursing myself.
We should have talked about our current situation but things were somewhat out of my control.
“I’m sorry, babe. That’s my bad. I meant to, but between the hurricane and everything going on, we were so tired at night. ”
“I’m sorry.” She swipes at her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think maybe I’m a little traumatized and now you’re leaving…”
“I’ll be back,” I whisper. “You know that, right? It’s just a week, and then we’ll sit down and talk about…us.”
“Is there an us?” she whispers, watching my face.
“There’s always been an us. Even when we friend-zoned each other—we knew there was an us. Why do you think we’ve been fighting it so hard?”
“But we don’t?—”
“Shh.” I put a finger on her lips. “We can’t have this conversation now. Here.” I motion with my hand. “We have to pack up what we can, and then I have to pack for a road trip. I promise we will circle back to this. It just can’t be right this minute. Okay? Can you wait a few more hours?”
She nods. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me… so much death and destruction and sadness. I guess it’s impacted me more than I thought.”
“I think that’s pretty normal.” I brush my knuckles across her cheek. “You gonna be okay long enough for us to pack up our shit?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“I’m going to see if I can scrounge up a few boxes while you grab anything you think we can save.”
“All right.”
I hate being so abrupt about something so important but I have a schedule now, and as much as I want to give her all of my attention, it has to wait.
But not too long.
We are going to talk.
Then I’m going to make love to her again.
Maybe more than once.