Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
MOJAVE
Not once since the nightmares started had I been able to fall back asleep afterward.
Once I was up, I couldn’t get myself back to sleep without triggering another nightmare right off the back of the first one.
It wasn’t worth it. So when I woke up a little while later, I was confused to say the least. It was brighter now, the sun fully up, and I could hear whispers from somewhere in the house, like Rachel and Frankie were already up and trying not to wake me.
Had sex really been enough to allow me to get some decent rest?
Or was it Rachel being close to me that made a difference?
Little footsteps alerted me that Frankie was tiptoeing into the room. I feigned ignorance, curious what she was doing, and the scent of fresh coffee hit my nose as she set something down on the nightstand.
Curiosity got the better of me and I opened my eyes to look at her. She’d carefully put a mug down on the nightstand and was trying to tiptoe back out again when she noticed me watching her.
“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she whispered, looking genuinely worried about it. That part bugged me, I didn’t want her to think she needed to tip toe around me, but it was the fear that made me sit up. She looked like she was afraid of how I might respond.
Shifting to sit on the edge of the bed, I beckoned her closer, hugging her when she threw her little arms around my shoulders. “You didn’t wake me,” I murmured, hugging her back tightly. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t be mad. I promise.”
It was the first time since we met that she looked worried about my response.
If I was to guess, she’d probably tried doing nice things for her parents before, hoping to make them happy enough to care about her, but it backfired when she accidentally woke them and they berated her instead of thanking her for the effort she’d made.
I noticed the mug of coffee on the nightstand, not a drop spilled despite it being full nearly to the brim.
She’d been trying to do something nice. It was fucked up that she even felt a little nervous about how I’d respond to it.
“Who made the coffee?” I asked when she finally stopped clinging and her normal confidence came back.
“I did. Ms. Rachel showed me how.”
I hummed, leaning to pick up the mug to take a sip. Frankie stuck close, leaning against my side, and I kept an arm around her so she knew she was safe. She watched me avidly, waiting for my response like it meant something to her that I liked it.
Humming appreciatively, I nodded. “It's good.”
I saw the relief flash across her face before she beamed at me. “Want to watch cartoons? Ms. Rachel said I could for a little while until we decided what to do today.”
Nodding, I stole another sip of my coffee before pushing to my feet. “Sure. Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet. Ms. Rachel is cooking.”
Pursing my lips, I eyed her curiously as I followed her out of the bedroom. “Why do you call her Ms. Rachel, and me Mojave?”
Frankie shrugged, but I heard Rachel’s voice from another room nearby answer the question for her.
“It’s my job. It makes kids see me as an authority figure, like a teacher.
” When we joined her in the kitchen, she smiled at me over her shoulder.
“You weren’t an authority figure for Frankie. You were closer to a friend.”
That made sense, I guess. I never tried to be anything other than a safe person for Frankie. I wasn’t her parent, or her case worker. I was just the guy who walked her home and made sure she stayed safe.
I’d been so out of it the night before, I hadn’t looked around Rachel’s place when she’d invited me inside.
It was a single story place, likely an older model since it wasn’t open concept like a lot of new designs were these days.
The front door opened directly into the living room, with the hall leading to the bedrooms on the right.
The kitchen was in the back of the house, attached to a laundry room/mudroom that looked like it led to the backyard and detached garage.
I noticed in a few rooms there were stacks of boxes, I assumed belonging to her ex given that she was still living in the house that I’d delivered the information we’d found on the pigs to right after that shit went down with them trying to frame Butch. Unless she was planning to move?
“You moving?” I queried, following Frankie to the table when she grabbed my hand to pull me along.
Rachel’s eyes followed mine to the boxes and she rolled them expressively. “No. Those boxes belong to Scott. He left most of his stuff here when he moved out. I’ve warned him a few times if he doesn’t deal with it, I’m going to donate it, but he’s yet to pick any of it up.”
Probably because if it was here, he’d have an excuse to keep coming back. The asshole already showed up at her office. Having an excuse to come back here to pick up his stuff wasn’t likely something he’d want to give up.
“Want me to help you move them?”
She opened her mouth to answer, probably to say no if her expression was anything to go by, but Frankie chirped up before she could get a word out. “I want to help! I’m strong!”
I nodded at her. “Good. You need to be in order to help.” I raised my eyebrows at Rachel. “We can at least move it into the garage so he won’t have a reason to come inside.”
She pressed her lips together, resigned. “I suppose that wouldn’t be a terrible plan. I’ve been meaning to get around to it.”
But she was a busy woman doing good work and had been spending all her free time with me and Frankie. It’d make sense that we stepped up to help her move shit now that we were all hanging out here.
“Are you sure?” she hedged, her expression conflicted. “Last night–” She cut herself off, gaze flicking to Frankie before she seemed to reconsider what she’d planned on saying. “You got here late last night. Aren’t you tired?”
Shaking my head, I explained, “I got more sleep last night than I usually would. I’m fine.”
She studied my expression for a long moment before giving in with a nod. “Then I appreciate the help. We might need to stack them in the mudroom, though, because the garage is kind of a mess. More of Scott’s stuff is in there and he’d never been a very organized person.”
Yeah, no. I wanted the shit out of the house so he’d have no reason to come inside.
I’d seen him grab Rachel before. I wanted to make sure that man stayed the hell away from her.
If he showed up demanding his shit, she could just open the garage for him and stay inside the house, at least until I arrived to give her backup.
“We’ll start in the garage then,” I countered. “I’m decent with organizing. I’m sure we can make space for the rest.”
She snorted, giving me a droll look over her shoulder. “Decent? I’ve seen your storage room. Even your totes have labels. You’re a lot more organized than I am.”
Those were mostly old habits. Years in the military taught me to be organized.
Since I was single the whole time, I stayed in the barracks and they’d do sweeps every once in a while just to ensure shit was kept clean.
It was just easier to keep it all stored and organized than having to scramble whenever inspections came around.
She considered my offer while handing out plates of food before eventually agreeing.
“Okay, sure. I’ve been meaning to get to it and it’d be nice not to have the boxes all over the house anymore.
” She gave Frankie a mock serious expression.
“You’ll help me, right? I’m not as good at organizing as Mojave is. I’ll need a teammate.”
Bouncing in her seat, Frankie nodded rapidly. “We can be teammates! Mojave’s the leader! He can tell us what to do!”
At least she was excited to help. I’d feel bad if she was bored for a few hours while we got this done.
But Rachel seemed to know how to make it fun for her, and Frankie looked eager enough.
If she ended up too bored, I could always offer to come over later when she was at school or something and handle it then.
It wasn’t like I had many obligations during the week, especially now that Battle’s people were gone.
After cleaning up our breakfast and taking time to get dressed, we all trooped outside and Rachel unlocked the side door, grimacing as she told me, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” before pushing the interior button to lift the garage door.
She… hadn’t been kidding when she said the garage was a mess. There were boxes stacked around what looked like an older model car missing more parts than it actually had. There were squirrel nests in the open engine block and more shit was shoved into the back seat.
It wasn’t just boxes either. Some spots were just piled shit that had no rhyme or reason for being shoved together.
Half of it was clothes or old blankets, along with some books and yard equipment.
Because apparently to the idiot who’d lived here before, the can of gas for the lawn mower was best placed on top of a pile of fabric and paper.
The man was setting up for a fire with that shit.
Blowing out a breath, I took it all in. I could understand why Rachel avoided coming in here, this kind of shit could be overwhelming if she’d handled it on her own.
Thankfully, this kind of stuff actually relaxed me.
I liked organizing. It kept my mind occupied and my hands busy.
After last night, I needed a project like this.
“Where do you want us to start?” Rachel asked beside me, the grimace in her expression telling me she was overwhelmed already.
“Start with the boxes. We’ll move everything out, get more boxes for the stuff that’s scattered, and throw out anything that can’t be salvaged.
I can build shelves for the stuff that belongs to you so we can store that properly once there’s enough room in here, and we’ll label what’s yours and what’s his so when he comes to get his stuff, there won’t be any confusion. ”
“I think you mean ‘if’,” Rachel sighed. “It’s been six months since the divorce was finalized and he has only ever picked up one box of things he needed.
He left everything that couldn’t fit in the back of my dad’s car either here or in the house and said he’d come back to get it later.
I’ve asked him a dozen times when that’ll happen, he always makes excuses or says he’ll come grab it and doesn’t show up. ”
My brows snapped together in confusion. “Your dad’s car?”
She blew out a harsh breath, giving me a significant look. “Long story. How about we save it for another time. This will probably take all day and I’m not looking forward to the heat in the afternoon.”
I let it go for now because she asked me to, but I’d want to know that story later.
If a man cheated on my daughter and they got divorced, I sure as shit wouldn’t be offering him a ride to move his stuff.
He’d be on his own for that shit. It made me wonder what kind of parents Rachel had if they were willing to help her cheating ex right after their divorce.