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“Sadly, yes.”
Bandit tilted his head. You’re not lying?
“I wish I were.” That rubber chicken was so damn loud, but it wasn’t like he was getting much sleep these days anyway.
Darien zipped up his bags and dumped them outside the door to his suite.
Tanner was coming down the hallway, carrying a duffel in one hand, a backpack and laptop bag slung over his shoulder.
“I’m all packed,” the hacker declared. “Need any help?”
“Take these to the truck, please,” Darien said, gesturing to his bags. “Make sure everything’s good with Loren and Joyce.” Joyce had stopped at her house to pack before coming here. Now, she was in the truck, monitoring Loren. “I need a few more minutes.”
“Sure thing.”
Darien stepped past Tanner and into Loren’s old suite just down the hall, bracing himself for the memories and emotions that would punch him in the gut the minute he saw it.
Ivy was already in there, juggling two suitcases as she flicked off the bathroom light and crossed the room. One was the bag Loren had used since the first day they’d met—the day Darien had brought her to the Bright penthouse to pack her things for a single weekend. That weekend had turned into a longer stay than either of them had expected.
Fuck, that seemed like a lifetime ago. Six months—that was it. Six months since he’d met Loren. Six months since she’d joined his family and filled in the cracks in his life, the damaged bits he had failed to heal in all the years that had come before her.
“I thought you might like some help,” Ivy said, passing him the bag. “I packed several of her outfits, all her toiletries, her makeup, and some extra things I think she’ll appreciate when she wakes up.”
When. The ease with which his sister used this word thawed some of the ice in Darien’s chest.
He hadn’t realized he had looked away until Ivy stepped closer, forcing him to make eye contact. “She will wake up, Darien.” Her tone was soft, but the conviction was firm.
“I know.” He managed to sound believable, but he’d spent so much of his life getting kicked in the nuts that he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
But this…he had to trust that this would work.
“I packed some ‘fun’ things too,” Ivy continued, waggling her brows. “Like lingerie and condoms—”
“Ivy.”
She smiled and tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Just trying to lighten the mood.” Darien didn’t bother telling his sister that he and Loren didn’t use condoms—they might be close, but they weren’t that fucking close.
Darien glanced at the other bag in her hand. A small gray one—another of Loren’s. “What about you? Where are your things?”
“I’m all ready to go. I’ve had years of practice packing for myself and a toddler, remember?”
A groggy male voice behind Darien mumbled, “What toddler?”
Darien turned to see Jack standing there, a bag in each hand, a third slung over his shoulder. His short brown curls were all mussed-up, and there were creases from a quilt on one side of his face.
“You,” Darien said, and stepped around him.
“You guys all act like I’m so incompetent,” Jack grumbled. He and Ivy followed Darien to the stairs.
“Because you are,” Darien said, Ivy’s voice mingling with his as she said the same thing.
They thumped down the steps, and when Darien got to the bottom, Travis met him there. Darien had lived with Travis long enough to tell when the redness in his eyes didn’t have anything to do with being tired or high.
Travis rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey,” he mumbled.
Darien acknowledged him with a nod. “Hey.”
“I’ll take that,” Ivy said quietly, extracting the other bag from Darien’s grip. She and Jack made their way into the garage.
