Chapter 6
Esme
I was so worried about keeping myself alive and trying to dig out from under the wreckage of my ruined relationship, the end of my career, and the absolute landslide of James’ betrayal, that I didn’t stop to think about how strange it would be to have Wizard in my home.
Strange maybe isn’t the right word. He hasn’t been anything but professional.
He could be a hired bodyguard, he’s so professional.
Wizard, Odin, and a man I didn’t meet this morning called Atlas, arrived at the house with me in time to meet the realtor.
Atlas drove me in a big jacked up truck that he told me belongs to his old lady.
Willa owns an antique store that they renovated together.
She needs the truck to haul the big trailer around that they use for picking—or finding treasure.
Atlas is golden. Tanned, Hollywood gorgeous, with a muscular build.
He looks like a typical obnoxious jock, but I might be bitter, thanks to James.
I discovered on the drive that Atlas is actually super nice.
He’s a good guy who adores Willa, loves his family, and would do anything for the club.
He’s cheerful, seems ridiculously smart and he was even able to draw my broody ass out into some talking, which really says something.
Odin and Wizard followed on their bikes. They parked in front of the house and the two of them went in after I unlocked the door. They had me wait outside on the front step with Atlas while they swept the place.
Crazy. It’s crazy that they seriously did that.
The whole time I met with the realtor, two guys packed and one seemed to keep a lookout, dodging from door to door and window to window.
They made the poor realtor entirely flustered, but he seemed confident that the house should sell quickly.
That was a big duh to me. In this neighborhood, where houses aren’t available very often, it’s a given that they sell fast.
After the realtor left, Wizard told me to feel free to boss them around. Atlas brought in the boxes and tape and started setting them up.
I gave pretty shit instructions due to being in that exact same state of mind.
I told them that anything that was obviously personal and belonged to James, like paperwork or sports trophies with his name on it, could go in one area.
All the impersonal items could go into another set of boxes for donation.
I wanted to leave enough décor on the walls and all the furniture.
I already told the realtor that he could come take photos tomorrow.
He installed the lockbox on the front door, so he can let himself in and out without me being here.
As far as my personal things go? I don’t have many.
My laptop, tablet, and a file folder with my tax returns and personal paperwork all went into my suitcase.
I’d already planned on donating the majority of my clothing and shoes.
I don’t want to look at it. Any of it. I could sell it and give the money to the club, but honestly, I’d rather just donate it to someone who needs it and can use it.
I know that Tyrant and Raiden would approve of that decision.
After a few hours, it became clear that we’d need another set of boxes.
A big freaking pile was going to be for burning. Photos. Souvenirs. Things James and I did together. He wanted to burn down our life? I’m only too happy to make that wish a reality. I did think about shoving it all into industrial size trash bags, but it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.
It was weird to have Wizard in my space, sorting through things that belonged to me or to James, sifting through our memories, but I got over it after a few hours.
He never commented or blinked about the fact that James and I had separate bedrooms. Separate lives inside one house. It’s not what I’m ashamed about anyway.
I wasn’t able to sleep in his room at the clubhouse.
I stared at his ceiling and let my anxieties grow and build.
I let all my thoughts wander different paths, gave them free rein to steer themselves as they would, thinking it would be better.
All that did was remind me that my phone was off, and I was expected at work hours ago.
I called in and quit over the phone. I apologized so many times.
My boss was pissed, even after I explained that my life was in chaos and I was in the middle of an emergency.
I wasn’t exactly surprised. It wasn’t the kind of workplace where people actually give a shit about each other and have no form of sympathy whatsoever.
You’re great while you’re useful, and if you’re not, you’re simply an inconvenience and a problem.
Now that I’ve broken up with my fiancé, been threatened by a bunch of thugs, been to Hart and back, quit my job, and packed up half my life, I’m starting to push up against a brick wall of exhaustion.
Even though it’s dark outside and inside, the AC is blasting, I’ve sweated through two shirts and had to keep pulling others out of the suitcase I’d already packed.
No one complains. Everyone is so polite and kind that I’ve been tempted to start bawling at least twelve times. The guys are efficient too. Without them, this would have taken me days, if not a full week of working from morning until night, to get this place packed.
After everything is boxed up, I walk through the rooms and do a final inspection. It’s Wizard’s idea. The guys all wait for me by the wall of boxes they’ve moved into the living room so they’re close to the front door.
“Everything looks good. Thank you so much.” Words have never been more inadequate. I have to shoot out both hands to the back of the couch in order to hold myself up, but these guys? They look like they’re ready for another day of straight packing.
Atlas claps his hands, seemingly reinvigorated at the idea of hauling a ton of heavy boxes out to the truck, stacking them, and tying them down. “Okay. Let’s roll out with the boxes we’re taking back to Hart. I’ll be back in the morning to take all the donations in once everything is open.”
“I’m so sorry you have to do that.” Sorry. That’s me. Yet again.
“Don’t apologize. I’m happy to help.” His big, gleaming smile speaks to the truth of that.
“I feel like I should buy you guys dinner or something. It’s the least I could do.”
“That’s definitely not needed,” Odin grunts. He picks up three huge boxes from the stack and knocks himself right in the face. “Shit. I guess that’s how you lose an eye. Good thing mine’s already gone.” He holds the stack one handed, adjusts the eyepatch, and walks out the door.
“A treat then. Ice cream or something.”
Atlas’ grin grows so wide that I can see half of his back teeth. “How can we say no to ice cream?”
“It would be better if we were out of here,” Wizard protests.
He stacks four boxes into Atlas’ arms as he holds them open.
Wizard never did like Seattle. I think it’s any city.
He can’t breathe when he can’t see the stars.
Seattle is beautiful, but as people say, it’s in the eye of the beholder, and he was never keen on beholding it.
“We could stop at the gas station on the outskirts of town.”
“That place has a diner attached. It seemed to have good family vibes,” Atlas agrees.
“How did you guys even notice that?” Right. This isn’t their first trip to Seattle.
“I’m always looking for places to get grub. That and pick antiques. Willa gets downright excited when I find something she doesn’t know about. It’s better than bringing home dozens and dozens of roses.”
“Can we stop?” I ask Wizard, even though he basically suggested the spot.
“We probably do need some fuel,” Wizard admits. “We’ll check it out. I can always stay behind and watch the truck and the bikes while you guys have something to eat.”
“Thank fuck!” Atlas drags out the middle of the fuck so it’s somewhere around eight syllables long. “I’m starving. Growing boys need chicken strip baskets, fries, and extra ice cream.”
“Don’t worry, Wizard. We’ll get our orders to go so we can come camp out with you in the parking lot.”
“Don’t you dare.” Wizard glares them down while he scoops up another armful of heavy boxes. “I’m fine outside.”
“You’re way too good,” Atlas throws back.
He tries to outdo Odin and Wizard on the box stack but ends up nearly toppling all four boxes.
“Always showing us up.” He winks at me. “He doesn’t.
I swear. Show us up, I mean. He’s just great.
” He glances behind him. Wizard and Odin are outside.
“Wizard’s always the one still awake when everyone else has gone to bed.
He’s the one who doesn’t need a drink because he needs to be sober more.
He’s the quiet one, and they say you should always watch out for those kinds, but he’s like that in the good way.
The one you don’t see coming. He sacrifices for us so fucking often, and never once asked for anything in return.
We’re great as a club because of all the moving parts and pieces, all the differences between us, it all works together.
Wizard’s pulled more than his fair share of making that possible.
” He hefts up the boxes and angles toward the door, trying to gauge where it is so he doesn’t knock the top box off right into his face.
“That makes sense.” My heart vibrates and throbs in my chest in such a brutal shockwave that the concussion makes it hard to catch my breath. “He always was that way. Kind. Selfless.” Maybe too much. There’s something there, on the edge of my mind, but it skitters away when I reach for it.