I don’t want to waste my life away napping, though. I’ll miss so much.
Oxley continues to ask about work on the drive home. Once we’re in the apartment building, I let him pick me up and carry me the rest of the way. Seriously, I’m tired. That first day back to work after being out for so long recovering from something is rough. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
I’m surprised by the boxes in the living room when we get into his apartment. I recognize my bedding folded at the end of the couch. There’s a bag on the floor that’s mine, too.
“How did this get here?” I ask.
“I picked it up.”
I look at him. “But… how did you know where I live? How did you get it all?”
Oxley studies my face for a minute. “You agreed that I can keep you. Didn’t you?”
“Well… yes, but…”
“Perhaps that meant something different to you,” he says, frowning. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
I shake my head. “But seriously, how did you get this stuff?”
“I went to your apartment. A man named Gavin let me in. I settled up on your rent for the last month and the next three to allow them time to find another roommate without strugglingnot to be short on rent. Then I packed your belongings and brought them here before picking you up from work.”
“You- I- how did?—”
“Are you angry with me?” he asks when I can’t get my words out.
“No, I’m just… startled. A little perplexed.”
“Did I misunderstand our conversation?”
I look into his dark eyes and sigh. “I think we both misunderstood.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No, Ox. I want to stay here.”
His arms tighten. “Good. I have lunch for you. Then you can nap for a while.”
“Are you going to survive with those boxes cluttering the living room while I nap?”
“No, they’re going to be hidden in the spare room for a while.” He presses his lips together as he sets me in the kitchen chair. “We’ll deal with them tomorrow. I think I can handle them for that long.”
I grin and look back at my lunch.
16
OXLEY
I lookaround the kitchen with a satisfied smile. Clean. I haven’t fully cleaned the kitchen since I brought Huntley home. Not that it was dirty before, but I’ve gone a month withoutreallycleaning it. I’ve been called a neat freak and germaphobe for most of my life. To be frank, it doesn’t bother me. I like knowing that I’m not going to get sick because there are bacteria growing in my fridge.
Before heading back to Huntley, I swap laundry loads and fold the towels in the laundry room. The compulsion to put them away is strongly bubbling under the surface, but I’m distracted by my phone ringing. A glance at the screen says Nori’s calling.
“Hello, Nori,” I answer.
“Hey, boss. You good?”
“Very good. How’s the crew?”
“We’re good. Listen. I got your man.”
