Page 12 of IOU

That’s right, bitch. Move!

It occurs to me that Bostic doesn’t even know my name. Or maybe he does. It’s likely someone told him for his report. Do firefighters do reports, or is that just the police? Well, shit. Now I’m getting confused again. This lack of sleep is really messing with my head, or maybe being with Tucker made me stupid. Can that happen? Can guys make you stupid? I’m going with: possibly.

Tucker tries to peer around, but Bostic takes a step toward him. “Are we going to have a problem?”

Please have a problem, Tucker. I would so love to see you get your ass beat right now.

Tucker takes a step back. I should have known he would always look out for himself. Tucker has never really been a fighter. Not that I look for guys to fight, but you have to admit it’s super sexy when they unleash the beast with all that grunting and sweating. Whew. I’ve never appreciated a grunt as much as I have when I watch a UFC fight.

“By all means,” Tucker says, motioning for Bostic and me to come in. I try not to look around. Ireally, really do. I mean, do I need to see if they’d resumed their fuckfest on the floor? No, I do not. But I look anyway. And thankfully, it’s all gone, and our once sparse living room is back to normal. Not ours. Theirs. As in, not mine anymore.

I push my way past Bostic to my room, where I start throwing everything I can into my suitcase without hesitation. No need to stay here any longer than I have to.

“Do you need any help?”

That’s Bostic, not Asshole.

My head drops to my chest in a big sigh. “I don’t know.” This is all happening so fast. It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. My room. My things. I’ve spent the last two years within these four walls and in seconds it’s all gone.

I take a seat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands. “I don’t have anywhere to take all this stuff. What am I supposed to do with my bed?” I mean, really. What’s the point in packing? I have nowhere to put it. Maybe I should give it away? Or perhaps I should drop out and go home. Find a community college closer to home where I’ll have food in my belly and a roof over my head.

I look up at Bostic through bleary eyes.

I’m not going to cry. I can handle this. Think of it like when you had a Father’s Day event at school and no father to have doughnuts with you. The initial pain hurts, but you get used to it. Eventually, you won’t even care.

“We’ll figure it out, kiddo. Right now, just grab what you need for the next few days.” Bostic says this like he has a plan, or maybe he’s just saying what he thinks I need to hear, so I don’t lose my shit again and cause another fire.

Either way, he’s right. There’s nothing I can do about the bed and the larger items. Essentials. I just need essentials until I figure out my next step. I don’t really want to go home, but if I have to, I have to. The important thing is I can’t let Tucker win. He can’t know that he’s turned my life inside out. He can’t see that I have no idea who I am at the moment or what I plan to do with myself.

Tucker just needs to see me pack up clothes and makeup. Oh. And a toothbrush—definitely a toothbrush.

I nod. “You’re right. I’ll find a new roommate in no time. We’ll just hope Taylor doesn’t stash a dead fish in the mattress before I return.”

Bostic’s eyes go wide, like the viciousness of women is new to him. Ha. He has no idea.

I wave off my comment. “I doubt she will, though. She’s a vegetarian. Touching a fish is like wearing drugstore foundation to her. Just forget I said anything.”

His nod is slow and wary, but he seems to move on from it after a few pained seconds.

“We can load up my truck with as much as we can fit today. I can ask some of the guys to come back and help take the bed apart. I could store it in my garage for the time being.”

Ah, shit. See? I knew I scared him with all the dead fish talk and watery eyes.

“Don’t worry about it, Boss—” Ooh. I like that nickname. “It’ll be okay. You’ve already done so much for me.”

He scoffs, but I ignore it and go back to shoving the contents of my dresser into my suitcase. Stuffing in everything I can, I finally manage to zip up my suitcase with Bostic’s help.

“All done,” I say, taking one last look around.

Bostic nods, grabs the suitcase with one hand, and proceeds out to the living room with a firm grunt and a “Let’s go.”

Can we just note that he doesn’t bother with engaging the wheels? It’s like he doesn’t want anything slowing our exit from this hellhole.

Let’s also note that Bostic needs a stuffed sea lion named after him. Pronto.

I refrain from flipping Tucker and Taylor off as we pass by, but then I feel a soft touch at my elbow. “Ainsley. I’m—”

“Get your hands off of her.”

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