Page 15

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 next door, 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 feel like home, but it looks a little more the way I would want my home to look.

After about an hour, I take a break and go switch over the laundry. Another cup of coffee circulating through my system, and I’m back to work.

I’ve got almost everything where it goes when my cell dings, alerting me to an incoming text. I rush to open it and I’m a little ashamed at the disappointment I feel when it’s not from Zeke. Instead, it’s my sister.

Sadie

We’re having everyone over for poker night tonight if you want to come.

I don’t play poker, but I generally do enjoy the get-togethers my sister hosts. It’s great at taking my mind off things and distracting me from all the crap I don’t want to deal with. And right now, I don’t want to deal with unpacking from dusk to dawn, so I reply.

Sure. What time?

The six o’clock start Sadie gives me leaves way too much time for me to keep working, but it’s better than nothing. I agree, offering to bring something to snack on because making an appetizer will eat up a little more of the time I don’t want to spend busting my ass unpacking.

Finishing the spare bedroom will be more than enough for one day, so as soon as the sheets are done in the dryer, I assemble the bed, vacuum the carpet, and look over what my hard work has produced. It looks...

Fine.

I don’t get the same joyful feeling I used to get when I looked over the same room in my old house, but maybe that’s to be expected. Maybe it’s yet another thing that will never go back to the way it was.

In one last ditch effort to make the room more appealing, I plug in a wax warmer and plop one of my favorite scents into it. After flicking on the light bulb inside, I leave it to melt, hoping if it smells right, I’ll be slightly less neutral about it.

Having buzzed past my typical lunchtime, I reheat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. Zeke seemed to really enjoy it, and that makes me way happier than finishing that upstairs bedroom did. If I start cooking again, I bet he’d love the extra. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about waste and he would have something in his fridge when he gets to his suite at night.

The idea has me rushing through my meal, excited about all the things I can make for him. After loading my dishes into the dishwasher, I scour the kitchen for ideas of something I could make to bring to the party—and offer the extra to Zeke tomorrow at work. Unfortunately, I’m just as strapped for ingredients now as I was last night.

My stomach twists. I haven’t been grocery shopping on my own since moving here, and I’m not sure I want to tackle that today too.

But I could place an order like we do at headquarters and go pick it up. I have a car now. One that’s snow and ice free thanks to Zeke’s encouragement and assistance. I can handle a pick-up, right?

I spend the next hour browsing through the grocery store’s online selection. Once I have everything selected, I place the order and use the time before I have to head out to take a shower and make myself public-presentable. I’m not actually getting out of the car, but I still take the time to curl my hair and put on a pretty dress.

Once I’m dressed, I load into the SUV, take a deep breath, and venture out into the world alone.

Driving is slightly more intimidating without Zeke in the car next to me—most things are more intimidating without Zeke next to me. But he has a job and a life and I can’t rely on him for everything. Regardless of how I might feel, I know I’m not actually helpless.

I force myself to take slow breaths as I follow the directions my phone gives me, eyes darting from mirror to mirror. I’m nearly to the store when I notice the same car has been behind me almost the whole drive.

Is someone following me?

My stomach clenches and my hands start to sweat. I’ve got my finger on the screen of my phone, ready to call Zeke when the car turns.

My shoulders drop as relief sweeps over me.

I was just being paranoid. Not surprising, but still a little disappointing.

Regardless, I’m on high alert while the attendant loads in my purchases and I take a different path home, making absolutely sure no one is following the same path.

When I finally pull into the garage, I let out a long breath. It wasn’t perfect, but I survived my first trip to the store. Pride lifts my lips and straightens my shoulder. I bask in the glow as I get to work.

It carries me through unloading the groceries and making the ginger soy glazed meatballs I decided on. I’m still feeling pretty freaking accomplished when I walk next door at 6:15, carrying my vat of meaty goodness.

“Here.” A familiar deep voice stops me halfway up the stairs leading to Sadie’s front door. “I’ll carry that.”

I stare in shock at Zeke. “What are you doing here?”

He never comes to these things. Not a single time has he been to poker night. It’s unexpected as heck.

And makes me ridiculously happy.

“Thanks to that hole in my shoulder I’m out of commission for a couple weeks.” Zeke easily swipes the tray of meatballs, looking unbothered by his injury even after helping me move all my stuff yesterday.

It makes me wonder.

“Have you been taking your pain medication?”

His eyes move away from me. “Someone gives me shit if I don’t.”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “Good.” For some reason, knowing I’m the reason he’s not suffering makes me feel better than any amount of independent grocery shopping or box unpacking could. “I would hate to have to pin you down and make you take it.” The second the words are out of my mouth my skin gets very hot in spite of the freezing cold air.

Because it is way too easy to imagine trying to pin Zeke down. I know I couldn’t actually do it, but the thought of trying...

Is intriguing.

Zeke studies me, his brow pinched in concern. “Are you okay?”

I plaster on a smile and nod, the movement jerky. “Yup. Fine.”

I go to take a step, knowing I should probably get away from him before I embarrass myself further by thinking of him in ways I shouldn’t, but the minute my foot hits the next step, I start to skid. Without thinking, I reach out and grab the man who is quickly becoming my main source of support.

Zeke leans closer, standing solid and steady as I regain my balance, latched on to his bicep. Luckily, I’m not standing on his injured side, or I would feel like a complete jerk. Not only would I have been imagining him in less than friendly ways, but then I would have literally added insult to injury by hanging myself off his healing shoulder.

The second I have my feet back under me, I start to let go, but he stops me.

“I think you better hang on, just to be safe.”

I mean, if it’s just to be safe.

I nod again—or maybe I’m still nodding from before. “Yeah. That probably is a good idea.” I do loosen my grip on him—I don’t want to throw him off balance—letting my palm curve over the solid swell of his bicep.

Holy crap is he strong. I know Zeke works out every night, but knowing it and actually touching it are two different things.

And somehow I keep accidentally touching him. At least he has all his clothes on this time.

Slowly, Zeke leads me up the steps, eyes staying on me as we go. We reach the stoop, and he tips his head at the doorbell. “You’re going to have to ring that since my hands are full.”

“Oh.” I totally forgot what we were doing for a second. I quickly poke the glowing button. It’s not until the door starts to open that I realize I still have my arm laced through Zeke’s, and I quickly pull it free. I don’t want to give my sister any more reasons to freak out, and if she saw me holding onto Zeke, she would most certainly freak out. At the very least she would have a million questions, and I don’t want to answer them.

I don’t have to explain the relationship I have with Zeke to anyone. Not that it is a relationship. It’s an arrangement. One that—thankfully—seems to be benefiting both of us.

But it’s not Sadie who opens the door. Her husband Jamison greets us, his assessing gaze moving from me to Zeke. “Hi.”

I should explain to him that we didn’t come together. That I just happened to cross paths with Zeke at the bottom of the steps. But I don’t. That might make Zeke think I’m ashamed of the time we spend together, and I’m not. It’s just that it’s no one’s business but ours.

Not that I think it will ever be anyone else’s business, because there’s nothing going on. Not like that. We’re just friends. Friends who support each other. He helps me organize my house, and I make sure he takes his medicine. He teaches me how to defend myself, and I wipe the blood off his muscular, perfectly formed body.

Holy crap. I’m hot again.

Thankfully, Jamison steps back, leaving room for us to go in. Zeke jerks his chin in the direction of the house, indicating I should go first, so I do, hurrying to strip off my coat. The walk from my house to theirs is short, but Alaska is freaking freezing. I didn’t know when I buttoned it up that I would decide to have a little personal summer while I traveled, so once the heavy wool and matching scarf are loose, I let out a sigh of relief. After stopping to hang up my coat, I peek in the direction of the kitchen, watching as Zeke carries the meatballs I made to the counter, looking stern and stoic.

It’s funny how intimidating and almost scary I found him just a few weeks ago. Now?

Now I know he’s not the tiniest bit scary. Not unless he needs to be.

Zeke glances up and catches me watching him. I almost look away, embarrassed, but then I see the hint of emotion in his eyes and reconsider. The man is difficult to read, but I’m starting to get better at it, and right now he is way out of his element.

Which means this is another opportunity for me to be the one who takes care of him.

I go to where he stands, awkwardly positioned between the kitchen and the open dining area. “Would you like for me to hang your coat up?” I smile, hoping to put him at ease. “It’s the least I can do since you kept me from cracking my head open on the sidewalk.”

His posture relaxes the smallest bit. “Sure.” He unzips the front, sliding it free before passing it off.

I lift my brows as I look him over. “I’m starting to suspect you only own work clothes.” Once again, he’s in black tactical pants and a black shirt. It’s not surprising, though. Jamison was the same way before he met my sister. All work and no play.

Technically, my brother-in-law is still all work and no play, but sometimes he wears jeans.

Zeke shrugs. “It makes things simple.”

I drape his coat over one arm. “Simple can be good, but variety isn’t always bad.” I’m kind of caught between the two myself. My old life was filled with hobbies and adventures and work and fashion and...

Now that seems like a lot.

But my life here in Alaska is devoid of any sort of interest. I’m not so sure that’s great either.

I think I’ve gotta find a happy medium, whatever that is.

I hold up one finger. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.” I quickly hang Zeke’s coat, and rejoin him, turning to point at the line of food down the counter. “You can start eating whenever you want. Everyone pretty much eats all night.” I motion to the table where most of Jamison’s friends will be playing cards. “Soon there’ll be a pretty intense poker game happening that you can participate in if you want.”

“You don’t sound like you find poker interesting.” Zeke accurately reads my tone.

I wrinkle my nose. “Not even a little bit. It gets too heated and intense for me.” I point to the last area on the main level. “I generally hang out with the kids watching television.”

It’s actually been one of the more enjoyable parts of my existence this past year. It was a good way to still spend time with the little people who constituted a huge portion of my life before, but without the pressure of their education resting on my shoulders.

“There you are.” Sadie interrupts the rest of my explanation, cutting between me and Zeke like he isn’t even there. “I thought you’d get here before now.”

I usually come over early, but I didn’t want to face another conversation about Florida, so I waited until the last minute to head over. “I just lost track of time.”

I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to tell her the truth. About a lot of things. Like how I won’t change my mind about going to Florida. How I’m never going to be the Savannah she used to know.

And how I’m starting to accidentally think naughty thoughts about the man glaring at her back.