Page 73 of Raising Love
“Losing a best friend is hard,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “But they never really leave you. And as long as you remember that, you’re never truly alone. Not physically. Not spiritually. You’re one step closer to finding the peace you need.”
I dabbed at the last of my tears, her words resonating deeply. “Thank you, Rylee. Your words… they’ve helped more than you know.”
Rylee smiled warmly. “Good. I always wished there was a space where I could hear something that made the world feel like it made sense again. I’m glad to be that for you.”
She stood and walked to the table she’d been organizing earlier. “Hey, I’d love it if we exchanged numbers. That way, we can stay in touch.”
“Yeah, absolutely.” I stood quickly, following her to the table.
We exchanged numbers, and just like that, the weight I’d been carrying felt a little lighter.
I stood in the middle of the living room, a strange realization settling over me—I had nothing to do.
I’d just finished recording a commentary video for my channel, something I’d planned to edit later, but right now, I didn’t feel like it. Baby Love had been down for his nap for almost an hour, and I’d planned to use the free time to clean the house after recording.
Except… there was nothing to clean.
I looked around the living room, blinking at the spotless space. It was quiet—almost too quiet.
There were no sneakers scattered by the entryway, no sweaty T-shirts draped over the couch. The socks that used to spill out of shoes weren’t there either. Everything was perfectly in place. And to my surprise, I didn’t like it.
I let out a small, disbelieving laugh as I dropped onto the couch, tilting my head back to rest against the back cushions.
Was I… missing Leo? Missing his messy ass?
The thought made me laugh again, but it didn’t feel ridiculous. No matter how annoyed I’d been by his clutter, his presence gave the house life. It felt lived in when he was here. Now, it felt like a showroom—a perfect display, polished and untouched.
When Leo told me he was moving back to his loft, my heart sank. And when he actually left, it sank even further.
It wasn’t just about him being gone. Him moving out meant Baby Love would stay with him sometimes at the loft. That idea didn’t sit well with me. Greene Gardens was baby-proofed, carefully organized for a child’s safety. His loft? It was a bachelor pad. As far as baby-proofing went, it barely had a working lock on the door.
But we’d both agreed that things between us had become too tense. For the sake of co-parenting, space was supposed to be the solution. We hadn’t formalized anything legally, just a verbal agreement for now.
His absence gave me the time to do things I hadn’t been able to do since taking on the guardianship—like visiting my mom or attending a grief support group. It was freeing in a way. Yet now, in the quiet of the house, I found myself… restless.
I turned my head, my gaze falling on the hallway that led to the home office. The idea of editing the video I’d just recorded crossed my mind, but my motivation was already gone.
Instead, another thought surfaced. I’d been telling myself for weeks that I needed to clear out the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. My clothes were still in a makeshift setup, crammed into drawers or stored in the office. It was inconvenient, especially with an event coming up in a few days. But for the event, I wanted to have everything waiting for me in one place as I got ready. The last thing I wanted was to interrupt my routine by trekking up and down the stairs to grab an outfit.
With a sigh, I pushed myself off the couch and headed upstairs to the bedroom, determined to make use of my free time.
When I opened the closet doors, the sight made me freeze.
Boxes.
Kendra and Tyrell’s belongings were piled high—big boxes stacked on top of each other, smaller ones nestled wherever they fit.
I blew air through my lips, the vibration a sound of defeat.
“Where the hell do I start?”
The labels on the boxes were clear: Kendra’s clothes, shoes, and accessories. There were so many of them, and I could already hear her voice joking about her shopping habits. She was so much like my mother in that way.
“I need to start small,” I muttered to myself with a small laugh, shaking my head as I rolled up my sleeves.
Because if I tackled the bigger boxes first, I’d get overwhelmed before I made any progress.
My eyes scanned the labels as I leaned forward, hunching down here and there to read them. Among the piles, one box stood out: Baby Stuff.
