5. Dash #2
Of course, this bed is not coming with us. It looks rickety as fuck, for one thing.
The dresser against the wall is also clearly old and beat to hell.
The scarred top is covered with little glass bottles and tubes of girl stuff. I want to uncap each thing and smell it, but we don’t have time for that. I’m just gonna take it all.
I look around the room and, besides the tiny table sitting next to the bed with a lamp on it, a couple of books, and a water bottle—this one is mint green—there’s not much else in here.
I cross to the closet, which is a third of the size of one of my closets. Plus, I have two. And I’m not even the diva about clothes that Kane and Benjamin both are.
I’ve always assumed that both of their taste for nice things comes from their parents. I grew up with parents who had to struggle and cut corners to make my hockey dreams come true, so I’ve always been super grateful and careful with money. Even though I make okay money now, I don’t often splurge.
Looking at the few clothes hanging in Abby’s closet, though, I suddenly also want to pull out my credit card and go to town. I want to buy her the most ridiculous shit.
Or maybe I just want to hand it over and let her go crazy.
I find a battered light gray suitcase with pink flower stickers added to one corner. That makes me smile. It's got wear and tear, but she still added something to make it pretty and I hope that makes her smile.
I put the suitcase on the bed and start pulling clothing items off hangers. All of it will fit in this suitcase, and we might as well take everything.
Then I cross to the dresser. I put all of the bottles and tubes into the pocket on the inside of the suitcase, then add the two books and the water bottle from the bedside table. Then I pull open the top dresser drawer.
I freeze for a moment. It’s her underwear drawer.
Well, she’s going to need bras and panties.
“Are you going through my underwear?”
I spin, a pair of baby blue bikini panties in one hand and a pair of simple, white silky briefs in the other.
“Um…you’ll need them,” I say, holding them up.
She looks from me to the panties over to her suitcase and realizes I’ve been packing.
Then she shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”
She’s not going to argue. Thank God.
“You’re packing everything, though?” She now notices her empty closet.
“Well, yes.”
I’m not the most articulate, even at my best, and holding the underwear of the woman with whom I am now obsessed is definitely not a moment when my brain is at its sharpest.
“How long do you think I’m going to be gone?”
Just then, I hear the sound of something falling, then Benjamin saying, “Fucking son of a bitch.”
I’m going to guess another chunk of ceiling just hit the floor.
I look at Abby. “Forever.”
I expect her to protest. Maybe cry? I mean, her apartment is a disaster, and it is literally falling apart around her. Three men she barely knows have stormed in and are essentially forcing her to leave. Being angry or sad or just overwhelmed would all make sense.
But instead, she nods. Then laughs lightly and says, “Thank God.”
I feel my eyebrows climb toward my hairline. “You’re glad?”
She blows out a breath. “That the three of you showed up when I had absolutely no idea what to do? And you’re here helping me gather all my stuff when I have no one else?
And that you're going to give me a ride to a hotel, so I don’t have to cart all of my stuff on the bus?
” She nods again, her smile genuine. “Yes, Dash, I’m very glad. ”
It’s probably her using my name and the way it makes my heart turn over in my chest, but it takes me a second to realize that she thinks we’re taking her to a hotel.
“Did Benjamin mention a hotel?”
Her smile is big and bright. “He’s getting a room for Mrs. Litwinski too.” Her expression softens slightly. “He’s a good guy, isn’t he?”
I nod. “Benjamin is the best.”
I turn and pull her top drawer out of the dresser, carrying it to the suitcase and dumping it over. Then I return to the dresser and pull out the second drawer.
Jackpot. Here are her comfortable hooded sweatshirts and sweatpants.
I pull two of each out and add them to the suitcase, then grab the third. They’re the softest. I hand them to her. “Put these on.”
“I’m…”
I know she’s about to tell me that she’s fine, so I decide to pull a Benjamin.
“Abby,” I say firmly. “Put them on. You need to be completely dry and warm. And comfortable,” I add. Then I realize I can’t be totally stern with her. “Please,” I add.
It’s driving me crazy that she’s dressed in the same clothes she was in before, and while they might be dry now—though I have a hard time believing they’re not still slightly damp—she needs to change into something warmer and more comfortable.
I need her to be comfortable. To feel warm and cozy. I don’t get it, but I have to make that happen.
“Or I’ll put them on for you.”
I’m not sure where the words came from, but the way her pupils dilate and the way she clutches the clothes against her chest and her pretty lips fall open, I’m glad they came out.
“Okay,” she says softly.
I pull open the final drawer in her dresser and find it empty.
I frown. She doesn’t even have enough stuff to fill up three drawers of a dresser?
That itch to pull out a credit card and take her straight to the nearest clothing store gets stronger.
Instead, I close the suitcase and latch it. I look around the room. “What else?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “The apartment came furnished. The dresser and bed and everything in the living room were already here.”
I nod. That’s very good.
“Dishes? Appliances? Anything special that you want to keep?”
She shakes her head. “Just my plant. I had a throw blanket on the sofa that I liked.” She looks sad for a moment. “But no, the dishes are just from the secondhand store. I have a toaster and—”
“You won’t need a toaster.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“We can try to get the blanket cleaned.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not really special. I got it in college at Target.”
“You sure?”
She nods.
“We have lots of blankets. And I’ll get you a new one.” I need to get her a new one suddenly.
I hate that she has so little, but it is going to make moving her in with us easier. Not only because it will take just one trip in Benjamin’s SUV, but also because spoiling her will be easy and a fuck ton of fun.
“You don’t have to,” she says.
“I know.” I move past her, and on impulse, I stop and press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “Change your clothes. Then we’ll leave.”
She looks a little dazed when she meets my gaze. “Okay.”
I think I’m going to leave it to Benjamin to explain to her that she’s going to be moving in with us versus a hotel.
I head to her bathroom to be sure that we get her strawberry bath gel, shampoo, or whatever the hell it is that makes her smell so damn good.