Page 70 of Until the End

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling up to the storage unit, where the moving truck is parked. My parents and Gia are standing outside, talking with each other. I’m grateful they offered to help sort through my stuff with us. It’s not too much, but it still would’ve taken us ages to get through it all on our own.

Carson and I get out of the SUV to stand with my parents while Daren gets the unit unlocked.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Mom’s soft voice is one of those sounds that instantly brings me comfort. She has her blonde hair tied up in a bun with a patterned scarf wrapped around her head. It’s very Rosie the Riveter, and I couldn’t love it more. Dad’s salt-and-pepper hair has been styled back off his forehead, and he’s got his arm around Mom’s shoulders.

Since before I can remember, Dad’s always been touchy-feely with Mom. If they’re standing next to each other, he has some part of himself touching her. I asked her once if it bothered her, and she said it was one of her favorite ways to stay connected to him. Given how difficult it is forDad to communicate his emotions, I can understand how this is their way of talking without having to say anything.

It reminds me how important communication is between two partners. Carson is great at communicating with me and has recently gotten very good at knowing when I have something I want to talk about. It’s been a slow process for me to become comfortable with bringing up harder topics. I still worry I’m being too needy or emotional, but each time, it’s been easier than the last.

“Thank you for helping us sort through my stuff. I’m honestly not sure how much the moving company packed for me. Chelsea oversaw everything.”

“We’re happy to be here.”

“I’d prefer to still be in bed at nine on a Saturday morning, but sure, happy to help,” Gia quips with a wink.

The rolling door clatters open, and we all stare at the towers of boxes stacked inside.

“Well, this is going to take a lot longer than I thought,” Carson says.

“Should we just get it all on the truck and take it back to the house instead of trying to sort through it here?” I ask. It’s not what I wanted to do, but we’ll end up being outside all day if we try to work through every box.

“It would be more comfortable,” Gia says.

Mom shrugs. “I don’t care either way.”

“It would probably be the safest option,” Daren adds.

“Then let’s get these boxes onto the truck and head back to our house.” I move toward the first stack, my family following behind me. It takes us about an hour to get everything loaded. Most of the boxes were labeled, so getting them sorted at the house will be easier than I expected. I had no idea Chelsea kept so much of my stuff. I’d told her the only things I truly cared about were my photo albums and a couple of boxes filled with mementos that were in my closet. Afterthat, I left it up to her discretion. I have a feeling I had way more personal items than I originally thought.

The truck’s rolling door clatters closed once everything is loaded into the back, and I turn to Carson. “Should we pick up some food for lunch?”

“Definitely. There’s not much in the fridge right now.”

“Okay, I’ll let Mom and Dad know if you’ll talk to Daren.”

He nods and walks over to where Reggie and Daren are talking while I update my parents.

Once the plan is shared with the team, we head in separate directions. Carson, Daren, and I drive to the Mango Mart. It’s busy, of course, so Daren comes in with us. It cracks me up watching Daren try to be friendly with everyone who says hello. He’s become a well-known face around town. The gossip hens have done everything possible to pry his story out of him, but he’s yet to give in. I’m pretty sure he’s only holding out because he enjoys their attempts to get him talking.

With our grocery bags in hand, we walk back to the car. A buzz from my phone has me checking the screen. A snort comes out when I read Gia’s text.

Gia

You asshole. Do you know how many favors you’re going to owe me for doing your dirty work? I can’t believe you’re getting to skip out on moving your own fucking boxes.

Me

Big baby. You’ll be fine.

I expect to be fully compensated.

With what?

Whatever I want. Beer for a start. If you don’t bring back alcohol, we’re going to riot.

Better get your gear on, then.

You wouldn’t!

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