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Oooh, wouldn’t hold your breath on that.I internally cringe at his hope. I don’t doubt Anna has the strength to work through her addiction, but the odds of her doing it alone without rehab are slim. And the fact she’s already making promises—while detoxing—probably means she’s already planned her escape. As soon as he turns his back, she’ll bolt. She’s never wanted to get high more than she does now.
“That’s good. I wish her luck.” I turn to leave. I don’t have it in me to break his heart.
“Freya—”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. Really.”
All I can do is nod, then get my feet moving down the stairs and out the door. I’m running out of daylight as it is.
IKEA is a dreamland for a girl like me on a budget. I’ve already furnished most of my apartment, modestly, but I need a desk. And now that the sofa broke, I need to get something to sit on while I bingeSecond Bite. So, here I am, land of flat packs and self-assembly, ready to pimp out my place with a few necessities.
I freeze under a hanging sign that readsSÖNDERÖD. I hate these ugly rugs; they remind me of Kyle. He was lying on one of these the day I found him. Would I have noticed them if I hadn’t spent the night babysitting Anna? I’ve put in a lot of work in the last five years trying to move on with my life. I sought counseling early on, but the best thing for me was leaving Seattle behind. His friends and my friends were all the same, it was easier to break ties with everything and everyone.
Vancouver was a new start for me. I made friends quickly—I met Birdie. We both were going through our own traumas. Her with her narcissistic adoptive mother and me with my demons surrounding Kyle. Especially the blame I had put on myself. After enough counseling, I realized I had no control over him or his addiction.
I have to force my body to physically turn away from the rugs.Focus, Micky. You have stuff to do today.The sofas at IKEA are similar in aesthetics. The IKEA aesthetic. I wish I’d taken measurements before I left the house. Who forgets to measure their room before they buy a couch? I haven’t lived in the apartment long enough to confidently say how much space I have. Can I fit a L-shaped couch in that area... maybe? My ass jumps from cushion to cushion seeing which one makes it happiest.
The winner is a boring gray one with a low back and storage underneath. There. Decision made. I write down the number code so I can pick up the pieces when I get to the flat-pack warehouse.
On the way to the desks, I pass the shower curtains and grab a new one, plus a couple of new liners. Rhys might need a new one too.
The desk options are more abundant than the sofas. Shit, I’m going to need a desk chair too. Meh, I’ll use a chair from the kitchen. I hope I can fit all this in Mr. Hayes’s truck bed. A light pine rectangle desk with a long drawer along the top catches my eye. Again, I write down the number and keep moving.
Normally, I’m not one to splurge, but I decided on the way over I would buy a plant today. Plants always help make things better. There are shelves of them looking for loving homes. Two will be adopted by me today. Lucky little guys. I swap my small cart for a flatbed and transfer my pile of goods so I can collect the furniture from the warehouse. An announcement from above alerts shoppers that IKEA will close in thirty minutes. I made it just in time.
While standing in the checkout line, my eyes land on the chocolate bars. I look away, but my gaze slowly returns. Damn it. I swipe a few off the shelf and throw them in my bag like it’s their fault I’m so hungry.
It is not an easy task for someone of my size to load up all these boxes into the truck bed. Luckily, everything fits and I don’t need to strap anything down. But I need to get home soon because it looks like it might rain. The last thing I want is to have to deal with a bunch of waterlogged sofa cushions. Thank God I have the truck to get all this stuff home, or I’d be in serious trouble. But getting them home and carrying them up the stairs are two very different things. Should be interesting.
Twenty minutes into the thirty-minute drive home, the rain hits.
Out-fucking-standing.
A little rain is okay, I can deal with this. I just need to get home and hope the rain doesn’t turn torrential within the next ten minutes. Besides, the plants that got wedged in the back are getting a nice drink of water.Look at me seeing the glass half full and shit.
After pulling up to the apartment, I quickly hop out and start pulling flatpacks out of the truck and hauling them inside the door. I’ll get it up the stairs in a minute, right now my priority is getting the cardboard out of the rain before it disintegrates on me. By the time I get the desk in, each box seems heavier than the last.Lack of sleep and food will do that to a person.I break a sweat moving as fast as I can, but the clouds open up and downpour as I get the last two boxes in. The cardboard is slippery, and my hands keep losing grip as I pull it out of the truck bed.
Finally, the last box is carried inside the small entry door now crowded with IKEA cardboard. I look up the long straight stairway and cringe. Time for a break. And a chocolate bar. I sit down on one of the boxes and plow through what’s left of my candy. Rain streaks down the windows, and it’s strangely soothing. I’m surrendering to the day. The night with Anna. The interaction with Rhys. The thoughts of Kyle. The wet cardboard. I’m having a bad day.
Once the chocolate is gone, I stuff the wrapper in my pocket and get to work. Tugging one box at a time up the stairs and into my living room. The open space where the couch used to be will be filled with flatpacks in no time. I’d be annoyed by how many trips I have to take, but if the boxes were any bigger, I probably wouldn’t have the strength to pull them up the stairs. I’m really out of shape.
As I grab my next box, the other apartment door opens.No, no, no,I whine.Dragging boxes up stairs is not the smoothest of techniques, but I was still hoping it was quiet enough to not draw any attention to myself. I keep my head down but can already hear his footsteps heading toward me.
FOURTEEN
Her clothes are drenched. She’s halfway up the stairs, struggling to haul soggy cardboard boxes into her apartment. Somehow she makes it look sexy. Especially those frustrated little grunts.
“Can I help you with that?”
“No, I got it!” Her words have bite. Just when she finishes snapping at me, the box slips from her arms and almost goes careening back down the stairs. Luckily, I get a hold on it. This is the second time I’ve had to catch something she’s dropped. It’s not clumsiness, this box is almost as big as she is. Besides, I’ve seen her balance pretty impressive trays of drinks in the past.
“I can handle it.” She’s glaring at me like she’d rather put out a campfire with her face than let me help her.
“Go open your door, and I’ll carry in the rest for you.”
“I can do it!”
