Page 5 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)
SEAMUS
M imi was easy to track down once I had her real name.
I was furious to discover she lived less than thirty minutes from me in Texas when we were kids, but she moved right after she returned from summer camp.
That, I found odd. She had just turned eighteen and still had one more year of high school left, but for reasons that I haven’t yet discovered, they moved to Seattle before the start of her senior year. There, she was homeschooled and finished her degree outside of high school.
She and her parents still live in Seattle. They are retired, and Naomi is a yoga instructor contracted by way too many studios to track.
I still tracked them and ran all the details on their entire business, obviously.
And of course, she’s a goddamn yoga instructor. I could see it in the strong lines of her gorgeous body in that white dress that still haunts my dreams.
The address on her ID was up to date, so it was easy enough to find her living comfortably in a small cul-de-sac right outside downtown Seattle. It was also easy enough for me to approach her neighbor, making an off market deal for their house they couldn’t refuse.
Excessive? Maybe.
Necessary? Absolutely.
I’ve spent far too many years wondering what happened to her. Years searching for who I thought was a ghost, a figment of my imagination. Then she just lands back in my lap.
I’m not one to believe in signs , but that’s a goddamn billboard if I’ve ever seen one.
With my government contacts, it only took a couple weeks to get all the details I needed about her and all of her neighbors, a day to make up my mind that I was moving to Seattle, and two long, excruciatingly painful negotiating weeks with the owners of the house next door to her to finally come to an agreement.
Then once we did, they wanted a sixty day rent back to stay in the house for free.
I had no choice but to concede to their request, which put my plan back a couple months. A blip in the last decade, but still. I found myself impatient. And I’m never impatient.
Regardless, after nine cups of coffee, six bathroom breaks paired with gas tank refills, thirty hours of driving, and four hours of unloading, I’ve finally made it here, and the moving truck is officially empty.
“That’s the last of it,” I call out to Hudson from inside the back of the truck, as he carries the last box in the house.
It’s too big for what I need, but I figure I’ll find things to do with the extra space.
It was originally a two bedroom, two bath home before the prior owners built a third loft style bedroom and added that on a second story.
The floorplan is a bit strange, but the second story room is expansive and overlooks the backyard.
The owner told me he was a writer, and utilized the space as a sanctuary to write some of his best-selling novels .
I plan to use it as my painting room. A secret passion that no one knows about. I’ve never had enough space for all my canvases, but I will now with that addition.
I fold up the moving blankets that came with the U-Haul and place them in the corner, when Hudson walks up toward the back of the truck with a garbage bag in his hand.
He trails the side of the truck, and as I hear the lid of the garbage can close, the brakes of a car squeak before an engine dies off.
“Shit,” I whisper-yell. It bounces off the sides of this empty truck as I duck for cover.
I studied her goddamn routine for weeks, and she’s never home at this time.
Realizing I have exactly zero places to hide, I rise to my full height, pressing my back into the side of the truck, attempting to blend in…with absolutely nothing.
“Hi, are you moving in?” Her angelic voice makes my heart stutter, or maybe it’s the fact that Hudson might find out in mere moments what a complete lunatic I am.
He has no idea why I moved here so suddenly. He thinks it’s for no reason other than I offered help to Ember at the club, and because I could. I know he knows me better than that, but I’ve never told him about Mimi and would rather not start now. Not like this.
Hudson rounds the back of the truck, peering in, double taking as he sees me standing like a goddamn stick figure, not even blinking, poorly camouflaged into the side of the truck.
“No, my friend—” And he points, he actually fucking points. I have no choice but to gesture no with my hand, cutting that shit off, right fucking now.
His wide eyes catch my drift, finally, but he still stammers through talking to Mimi.
“My friend is moving in but he…went…to…the store.”
Je-sus, fucking Christ , he’s a horrible fucking liar. Could he have stuttered anymore ?
“Oh bummer, I’ll have to introduce myself another time,” she replies, buying his awful lie.
“Have I met you before?” He squints in her direction, studying her.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Her shadow is splayed out on the ground behind the truck. My heart races at the fact that she’s inches from me, from finding out I’m her new neighbor. She will eventually, of course, but I need that on my time.
Her shadow displayed on the cracked cement of my driveway shifts as she moves her hair from one side to the other, then removes her jacket. The dark silhouette splays out on the ground, showing the petite profile of her frame.
There’s a brief pause before she says, “No, I don’t think so.”
Hudson’s hand trails over his face, as he smothers a smile. And I know, he knows.
Goddammit.
“Well, hey, it was great to meet you. I’ve gotta get the truck back to the rental company, but I’m sure I’ll see you around.
” He peers into the truck, with a stupid—really stupid, big, smug ass—smile, grabs the rope attached to the sliding back door, and swings it down, slamming it closed.
An astounding click echoes through the metal box, locking me in.
“Hud,” I whisper-yell through the metal barrier.
It’s pure fucking darkness in here. Not an ounce of light comes through, except a sliver between the corners of the cargo door.
Pausing, I try to listen for any more conversation. Pressing my ear to the side of the truck, I hear a goodbye, then the slamming of the car door before the truck roars to life.
This motherfucker.
He steps on the gas, making me lose my balance and I fly toward the back of the empty truck with nothing to grab onto. My back slams into the accordion panels of the cargo doors, and I let out a long groan before screaming at the front of the truck.
“You fucker!”
He slams on the breaks and I roll all the way to the front. Jesus Christ.
This goes on for twenty goddamn minutes.
I just roll, back and forth—back and forth—in the back of a goddamn moving truck. Fortunately, I’ve been in far too many military trucks on dirt roads with no suspension to get car sick, but never have I rolled around like a sack of potatoes hitting the side of metal walls over and over again.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the cargo door opens and sunlight blasts into the truck, blinding me instantly.
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” I place my hand over my face, shadowing the light. My voice is raw and my entire body is probably bruised beyond recognition, but it won’t stop me from strangling him.
“You deserved that,” he’s still wearing that stupid smile, “plus, I realized I’d never have that chance again, so I took full advantage.”
He places a foot on the back of the truck step and leans forward reaching out his hand to help me. Grabbing it, he pulls me upward, thank God, because I don’t think I’d be able to, at least not right then, anyway.
“You’re losing your touch, Shay.” I can’t argue with him on that. I have been since the moment I saw Mimi again.
So I just agree and nod.
“Anything to do with the Hawaiian princess of a neighbor?” he asks nonchalantly, because I know he knows, but he wouldn’t dare call me out on it, directly,
I remain quiet for a moment as I step out of the truck and pull out my phone to schedule an Uber.
“She’s Japanese. And yes,” which is all I can seem to say .
Without looking my way, he tips up his chin in a languid, slow nod.
“So, who is she?”
Normally, he wouldn’t inquire so much, knowing I don’t talk about that kind of shit. But he knows something is off.
I glance up at him and back down at my phone, then open my mouth to reply. But I have no idea how to respond to that.
Someone who stood up for me as an awkward teenager.
The girl whose virginity I took.
Someone I’ve pined over for the last decade.
The girl who made me believe in love.
The one that got away.
I know he would understand my actions. Of all people, he would—especially after his behavior the moment he met Ember—but I still can’t seem to bring those words forward.
“Someone from my past,” I simply say, which does her no justice, but I’m not ready to share everything she did for me—to me. How she changed me.
Hudson just gives me another slow, hefty nod, knowing me well enough to know I’m not ready to talk about it, then pats me on the back, hard. I hide my wince.
Dick .
“I will get you back for locking me in a truck,” I tell him without even looking at him.
“I know. I’m looking forward to it.”