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“Would say we’ll just load everythin’ up, then you and Reese can go through them once we’re back in Manning Grove but all that shit ain’t gonna fit in my Bronco. So, if you want this to be once and done, gonna need you to figure out what you want and what you don’t.”
He couldn’t imagine she would want to return a second time since Media was almost four hours from home. That would be a hell of a haul for a few more knickknacks.
Reilly also wanted to empty the storage unit today and turn in the key so Reese was no longer obligated to pay that monthly bill.
“I didn’t have much since my apartment came furnished. Some of the stuff I might be able to sell at the consignment shop back home to get a little extra cash to give to Reese, but there’s no point in hauling things home if they need to be thrown out.”
It would help if they got a system in place. “How ‘bout you go through each box, then tell me to either load it up or take it out to the dumpster?”
She considered the stacked boxes and nodded slightly. “Okay.”
He stepped in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “Babe… Let’s just get it done and over with, then once we shut that door, it’s fuckin’ shut for the final time, if you know what I’m sayin’.”
She nodded again; her face paler than normal. “I do.”
“If it’s easier, I can throw all this shit out and you don’t have to touch any of it.”
She glanced past him into the unit. “No, I have clothes and boots… My books and electronics… Stuff I’ve been without for the past year.”
“But you’ve borrowed or bought other shit. You’ve done without anythin’ in this unit for the last year.”
“Not by choice. I won’t let that dead douchebag steal anything else from me. And by dumping everything I own, that’s what he’d be doing. Even from beyond the grave.”
Rev didn’t want to remind her that the asshole didn’t have a grave. He’d been plowed into the dirt and the only thing left of him was her memories.
He turned and considered the contents of the unit. “Any clothes you’re keepin’, right?”
“Yes, as long as I still fit in them.” She sighed. “I might not.”
“Ain’t gonna try everythin’ on now. Any clothes you find, we’ll take. If we run outta room, we’ll get pickier. Yeah?”
She nodded. “I can always donate the clothes to a shelter after we get home.”
He clapped his hands together sharply once just like Trip sometimes did to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, let’s do this. Wanna stop at the house on the way back to the motel later. Check on that fucker’s progress.”
Matthew was supposed to text him if things seemed close to the end, but Rev didn’t trust the man to do it now that his uncle knew why Rev had come home.
He probably regretted ever tracking Rev down.
They made fast work of the boxes at the front of the unit. Reilly was moving quickly, opening and digging through them, pulling out shit she could toss and even combining some boxes.
She would finish with one and say “toss” or “keep” and he’d either take the shit to the dumpster or his Bronco. His Ford had a decent amount of space, but not as much as a full-sized pickup and the cargo room it did have was filling up fast.
Fitting the boxes inside the back was like a fucking puzzle. He found a spot for a box of kitchen shit, then turned, “Babe, you gotta be more selective, gonna run out of space.”
With her face ghost white, she was squatting next to an open box at the back of the unit, staring inside.
What the fuck?
“Reilly,” he called out as he zig-zagged through the remaining boxes in the unit to get to her. Stepping up to her back, he glanced down and just about lost his fucking shit. “What the fuck! Your sister didn’t make sure that stuff was thrown the fuck out?”
“She told them to pack everything but the furniture. She was too busy taking care of me… Like normal,” she said in a flat whisper.
With boxes blocking him, he couldn’t get around her to block her view of the contents, so he leaned over, grabbed her under her arm pits, hauled her to her feet and pinned her to his chest. Without releasing her, he took a few steps backward until they could no longer see the bloody items in the box. Shit that had been splattered with her blood during the beating had been tossed into a box instead of being cleaned or thrown away.
She was stiff in his arms as he held her with one arm supporting her just below her breasts and the other across her belly to make sure she didn’t collapse.
