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They?
Two more men jumped out, young and strong and capable-looking. Though they weren’t wearing fatigues, I could only assume they were from the base.
“Big stuff first,” Ryan ordered. “Back to front. Davidson, pull the truck up to that second unit. Start there, we’ll finish this one.”
One of the two men nodded crisply, and they both jumped back in their truck. I stared from Jason to Ryan then back again.
“Jesus,” Ryan laughed. “Just look at you.”
I was dusty, filthy, all covered in sweat. My hair was matted to my neck by perspiration. I could only imagine what I smelled like.
“I haven’t seen you this dirty since the night before Kyle and Dakota left!”
I laughed, remembering fondly. “Can’t argue that.”
It was overwhelming, that they were here. Supporting me. Backing me up. Even calling in the calvary, so to speak. Like I was one of theirs.
“I—I appreciate the help,” I began. “But you guys didn’t have to do this. Really. This was my problem, my fuckup. It was something I wanted to fix on my own.”
Ryan, nodding the whole time, took hold of my chin. “Yeah, screw that.”
Jason laughed as he pulled on a pair of gloves. “Think we’re letting our girlfriend have all the late night fun? Breaking and entering? Grand larceny? The look on your partner’s face tomorrow when she shows up here and finds both her storage units totally empty?”
Both? Empty?
“No no,” I said. “I’m only taking my pieces. And maybe half the ones we purchased together.” I shifted my gaze to the right, where the other two men were already beginning to load stuff. “In fact—”
“Bullshit.”
It was just one word. But Jason’s voice was so strong, so commanding, it actually made me hot.
“What you mean, bullshit?”
“I mean bullshit. You’re taking it all.”
Ryan nodded, and his expression left no room for argument.
“All of it? Even her things?”
“Everything,” Jason said. “Every last piece, every last finish nail, every last splinter of wood left on the floor. We’re sweeping the place out, Sammara. It’s gonna be like the fucking Grinch who stole Christmas was here. No shit.”
A chill ran through me. It was exciting, even thrilling, seeing him talk like this. Seeing him this angry about something, this passionate about fucking over the person who had fucked me.
“B—But I don’t even have room for all of this,” I protested. “I only opened a single storage unit, and—”
“And you can close that storage unit,” Ryan finished for me. “You have a warehouse now.”
I looked at him like he was speaking in tongues. I had no clue what he was talking about.
“A warehouse?” I blinked. “What warehouse?”
“The one we rented you, ten minutes from home.”
My mouth dropped open. Comically, Ryan reached out and closed it.
“Fifty-five hundred square feet,” he said, “but we can go bigger as you grow. Front end office, just like your other one. In a secure office park too; security guards, gated entry, all that.”
I was moved. Touched. Astonished.
