Page 50 of Addicted to You
“You can go around and mark everything that’s yours and then I’ll know what to help you pack?”
“Okay.”
The next few hours passed in a blur. We packed my things—clothes, shoes, whatever could fit into the boxes. I moved from one item to the next, trying not to dwell on memories. But everywhere I looked, I saw pieces of a life I’d created with Britt. The pictures, the small mementos, even the damn coffee mug she’d left by the sink that was decorated with the word “Doctor” in a fancy font.
Eventually, everything of mine was boxed up and stored away in the guest room.
“All set?” Silas asked. “I booked us a room near the airport and got us a flight out in the morning.”
I turned to face him. “Just about. Thanks for doing that.”
“Not a problem.”
We ordered a ride to take us to the hotel he’d booked, and while we waited, I wrote a note to Britt telling her I’d be back for my things when I was done with my commitmentto her brother.
As we got into the car, I realized there was nothing left for me in Boston—not anymore. The only thing I could do was move forward, even if I had no idea what that would look like.
19
Silas
Even though theflight took nearly seven hours, we landed at LAX and were waiting at baggage claim before eleven in the morning.
“How far is your apartment from here? When we came before, we flew into Burbank.” Something flashed across his features when he said ‘we,’ and I couldn’t imagine it was easy talking about things he’d done with Britt so soon after the breakup.
“Yeah, that airport is closer, but I couldn’t find any nonstop flights there.” I lifted one of my suitcases from the carousel. “My place is only fifteen miles from here, but with the traffic on the 405, the drive could take us close to an hour.”
He nodded. “I read an article recently that said Boston and Houston are in the top ten cities with the worst traffic along with LA. Guess I’m just destined to stay in places where the freeways resemble parking lots.”
“That’s one of the nice things about being on the tour bus. You don’t even notice the traffic.”
The last of our luggage came around, and once we had all of our stuff, we found a guy holding a sign with “Mr. Hale” printed on it.
Rina was always careful to not have our full names on signs to avoid fans hanging around waiting for us to show up.
“You here for Silas Hale?”
The driver nodded.
“That’s me.”
He reached for my suitcase. “Great. Let me help you with your luggage.”
Cash and I followed him with the rest of our bags to a black Lincoln Navigator and climbed into the backseat.
As our SUV pulled onto the road, I turned toward Cash. “Other than the two times you came out after my—” I glanced at the driver. Thanks to the media, it was common knowledge I’d overdosed and gone to rehab, but it wasn’t something I liked saying out loud, let alone in front of a stranger. “Other than the two times I know you came to California, have you ever been here before?”
He shook his head. “Nope, those were my only two trips, and as you know they were quick turnarounds. There wasn’t really any time to take in the sights.”
“A California virgin,” I teased. “I’ll be sure to show you a good time, then.”
For a brief second, I wondered if I crossed a line with the innuendo, given what he’d been through the last twenty-four hours, but I relaxed when he chuckled.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Luck must have been on our side because we reached my apartment complex in forty-five minutes. As I pushed open the door, I was hit with conflicting emotions. I got comfort from being back in a familiar space, but my life was certainly different since the last time I had been there. Going forward, I wouldn’t be stumbling in at all hours, sleeping off a bender from the night before, or waking up next to random women.
I didn’t realize I’d stopped in the entryway until Cash squeezed my shoulder. “Issomething wrong?”
