9
Jett
“I think that’s the last of it,” my brother says as he slips past me with an overflowing box of my favorite blankets. The house behind him is empty, save for the appliances and years of memories that I wish I could burn.
“Okay, cool.”
“You wanna do another pass through any of the rooms?” Reece asks.
“Nope. Not interested in stepping a toe over that doorframe again.” I fidget with my fingers, tearing up the edge of a slightly too-long nail and cursing when it pulls too close to the quick.
The last two weeks have been slammed with packing, paperwork, trying to squeeze in conversations with potential clients, and not letting the little voice in my head talk me out of moving to Havenwood. I’d finally settled my thoughts by last night, but the anxiety kicked back in as soon as McKenna bailed on me earlier, saying she would make a coffee run. Our plan is to meet at my new loft apartment above the bar that Jace owns, but I think we are all trying to avoid stepping on each other’s toes. Things have been awkward all around since that day she, Reece, and I had lunch together.
I packed all my clothes and books while Reece and Jace loaded all the heavy furniture into a “clean” livestock trailer. Trust me, I nearly had a cow (no pun intended) when Reece told me this was their plan to move everything from Covington to Havenwood in one trip. One of the brothers that he works for, Drew, tagged along with the guys, but is clearly only that—a tag-along. Something about just needing to be around people but not being able to lift anything. Jace introduced us, immediately apologizing for Drew’s “surly asshole-ishness.”
“Drew’s not as grumbly as Noah, but it’s a close second,” he’d said. I’d rolled my eyes, because Noah Slater is anything but the town grump that everyone thinks he is.
Drew and I don’t say much to each other. He keeps to himself, and I’m too socially awkward to start the conversation. But as the guys load the last of the boxes in behind the sofa and bed, I can see physical pain etched along his features. I may not be great at reading emotions or social settings, but I’d recognize pain anywhere. Like calls to like, and all.
I step into his line of sight. “You good?” I ask.
“Sure thing,” he grunts, his eyebrows pinched together. An uncomfortable vibe rolls off him in waves, and his arm is cradled tight to his side. His breathing seems off, too.
“You don’t look it, ya know. I’d say you’re hurtin’.”
He looks at me quizzically. “You ever break a bone?”
“Nope, but I’ve run into enough walls and hit my head a few times.”
He lets out a breath in a huff of air. “I’ve got multiple breaks and fractures that refuse to heal up right but quit taking the pain meds.”
“Why on God’s green Earth would you do that?”
“Do what? Break things?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Okay, smartass. Why would you quit taking pain medication if you’re still hurting this much?”
He looks away, staring off toward the other guys as he says, “Your brother has mentioned over the years that you’ve taken medications in the past that you didn’t mesh with.”
“Not sure why he’s sharing any of that since it’s none of your business, but yeah. I can’t take stimulants. So what?”
He stares at me like I am clueless. I’m not naive; my brain just doesn’t process like a normal-minded individual. Why can’t people just be direct?
“Look, I don’t grasp things when I should, so you’re better off just telling me, or we’ll be here all day with me trying to pick up what you’re putting down.”
His laugh is low, quiet, more a breath of air, but happier than the first breath he’d done that with earlier. “You don’t pull punches, do you?”
“Never learned how to.”
He nods, accepting the answer. “My body formed an addiction to the pills I was on before I realized it. I cut them out cold turkey, went back to them, and then quit again last week.”
“Well, damn.”
A smile tugs at his lips, showing a devilish dimple.
“Makes sense,” I add. “Why you’re so snarly and whatnot.”
Drew chokes out a laugh. “You’re somethin’, ain’t ya?”
I roll my eyes. “In all seriousness, though, Drew. I may be all over the place ninety-seven percent of the time, but if you ever need to vent, feel free to hit me up. I might not remember half of what you tell me, and I know you’ve got a built-in therapist in your sister-in-law, but I know from experience that sometimes it’s easier to tell someone things when you don’t have ties to them.”
“Thanks, but I’m good, Jett. Really.”
“Understood.”
The other two guys close up the trailer and lock it before walking up to us. Reece studies me for a moment before speaking.
“Looks like we’ve got everything loaded. You sure you don’t wanna take one more pass?”
Shaking my head, I walk backward toward my car, thankful not to be stuck in the truck with the guys. “If something got left, I can buy new.”
Drew lets out a low whistle, and my eyes shoot to him. “Friendship offer revoked.”
“Oh, come on, Jett.”
I hold up my hand and slip into the driver’s seat of my Taurus. Reece pops him on the back of his head.
“Dude, what the hell?” Drew exclaims while rubbing the abused spot. Not that it was a hard hit. Reece was careful not to jostle his friend too much.
“Be nice to my sister.”
Tuning them out and focusing on the road, I start the drive west. Whether this move is a chaotic choice or a smart one, I still don’t know.
To new beginnings. May the chaos be controlled.
***
As promised, McKenna is waiting at my new loft, two iced coffees in hand.
Thank you, Baby Jesus. The guys should be pulling up behind me any minute, and my sanity can’t handle any more talk about horses and grain bills.
“Please tell me that cup has a double shot of espresso in it. Gimme, gimme.” I reach for the coffee with grabby hands, but McKenna pulls both cups out of my reach as I pout.
“No, ma’am. A regular caramel coffee has more than enough caffeine for your ass.”
Taking a sip as soon as she hands it over, I moan at the sweet caramel taste but still feel like grumbling about the lack of espresso.
“At least it isn’t decaf, hon. I could have done you dirty there and didn’t. So, say ‘thank you, McKenna, for helping to fuel my unnecessary and unhealthy caffeine addiction, even though it ruins what little focus I have.’”
I roll my eyes but mutter a thanks to my best friend between sips. McKenna goes to take a sip of hers but freezes, the straw an inch away from her face.
“What in the actual hell are you doing here?” she yells over my shoulder.
My head snaps in the direction she’s glaring as the distinct laugh of Noah Slater reaches my ears. My eyes dart back and forth between the two, unease and confusion creeping into my chest.
I choose to ignore the fact that my best friend and current crush-slash-hero have some sort of history and ask Noah, “What are you doing here, elevator man?”
His lips slip into a shit-eating grin. “I live here.”
My head darting side-to-side, I say, “No, you don’t. This is my loft.”
He points to the door next to mine. “And this is mine. Howdy, neighbor.”
I almost snap at him, his unexpected appearance and the news of him being my neighbor making me anxious, but the guys pull up to the curb with all my belongings in tow before my mind can take off again. When I asked Jace the other week about the card on the town bulletin board advertising the loft for rent, he had offered to set everything up for me. Sounds like he failed to fill me in on a few important facts, like the sexy mechanic living next door.
Taking a deep breath, I step back, away from the towering male, and slink toward my brother. I can tell even from here that Reece notes the look on my face. He glances behind me, and I know immediately when he spots both individuals standing at my door.
“So much for staying away from him, I guess.” I shrug at him.
“Meaning?”
“Says he lives next door. Better than a stranger, I think?”
“You good with this?” he asks while still eyeing Noah, his eyes hard, jaw set.
“Are you okay with it?”
His eyes soften as they take me in. “I don’t like some guy living right next door to you, but Jace ripped me a new one after that night we ran into him and I tried to piss Noah off. The guy isn’t at the top of my list, but it’s for personal reasons. As long as you are comfortable, I can deal with it.”
I nudge him and smile, although I feel more than a little nervous about having all that hotness next door all the time.