Fuck. She smells good enough to eat, which doesn’t bode well for my sanity. Thankfully, I’m a grown man perfectly capable of resisting temptation. “Well, now you don’t have to do either.”
Sniffling, she nods, running her fingers beneath her eyes, leaving black smudges of mascara. “I’ll accept your offer on one condition: If at any point I get on your nerves or you want to reclaim your space, you must promise to tell me. I’ll move out right away.”
I press my hand to my heart. “I promise. Come on.” I throw the box in the bed of my truck with the others. “Let’s get you home.”
Loren offers to pick up pizza on the way back, and I let her. Not that I plan on mooching off her for all my meals, but this gives me the chance to do something I’ve been putting off for way too long.
When I step inside my dark apartment, an unsteady breath escapes. My heart jackhammers as I cross to the spare room and twist the knob with a trembling hand. A wave of floral perfume wafts over me, making my head spin.
The boxes that have been sitting beside the bed for the last four years stare back.
I throw open the curtains and unlatch the window, letting the fresh air sweep inside, wishing it would take away the memories too.
Twenty minutes later, everything in the room has been reduced to three trash bags and four large cardboard boxes, and the place smells like lemon-scented cleaner and bleach.
Funny how something you’ve put off for so long builds and builds in your mind until it feels insurmountable. And in only twenty minutes it can be gone.
When I finish clearing out the room, I leave the door wide open, my heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time.
CHAPTER 31
LOREN
8:24 PM
I have news.
Meg
Good news or bad news?
Juicy news
I runinto Elliott in the hallway, a trash bag in either hand that are both heavy enough to make the muscles in his biceps bulge. Not that I’m looking.
Okay, maybe I am looking, but I’m not going to do anything about it. A week ago, maybe. But now that he’s saving my ass from living under the bypass, that line will not be crossed. Not that he’s given any indication that he’d be interested in stepping over said line anyway.
Focus, Loren.
“Getting rid of the bodies, I see.”
Chuckling, he mutters, “Something like that.” He nods his chin toward his apartment. “The door is open and there’s an extra key on the counter. Make yourself at home.”
I’ve been in plenty of frat houses back in my day, so I have a loose idea of what to expect from Elliott’s apartment. That is until I step into an immaculate sanctuary. Holy cow, this apartment is nice—so much nicer than mine. Yeah, the beige paint is dated, but other than that, the place looks brand new.
“You’ve been here for twelve years?” How is that possible? Even the fridge is spotless if you look past the stack of takeout containers and door full of different sauces. The oven? Not a smudge or greasy stain in sight. “You don’t do much cooking, do you?”
“Not anymore.”
I don’t ask why and he doesn’t elaborate and—holy shit. He has a washer and dryer up here, too? No more communal laundry for this girl. I’ll be living in the lap of luxury.
The spare bedroom is small, but compared to where I was living, this place is a freaking palace. And there aren’t any stains on the pristine mattress, like it’s never been slept on. When I flop on top, there isn’t one squeak or groan.
Not from the bed, anyway.
This mattress must be made of angel wings.
Elliott watches me from the doorway, his eyes shuttered as he leans a shoulder against the doorframe.
