Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Really?” Finn practically shouted, his eyes wide.
“You’ve got an overnight bag in your room,” I confirmed. “Run up and get it. Go through your room while you’re there and make sure I didn’t miss anything you’ve been hiding in your mattress or whatever.”
“I don’t hide anything in my mattress,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“Sure, you don’t,” I joked, scuffing my hand over his hair as he raced past me to the stairs.
Jesse waited until Finn was out of earshot before they spoke. “Moving day?”
“It’s time.”
“You sure?” they asked nervously.
“Who’s the parent?”
“You are.”
“Have I ever steered us wrong?”
“Could be debated,” Jesse hedged.
I let out a rusty laugh. “Fuck off.”
“You’re sure, sure?” they asked again.
“All packed up,” I replied firmly. “Be a shame to unpack it all again.”
A small smile played on their lips. “Yeah, it would.”
“Left your bag upstairs too,” I informed them. “Go get it and go through your room one last time. I put your pillow and lovey in the truck already.”
“We’re really going,” Jess whispered.
“We are. Go. Get your stuff.”
“What about my school books?”
“We’ll mail them back.”
Jesse’s grin grew into a wide smile. They turned and jogged up the stairs as Finn came down them.
“Got everything?”
“There were a couple of baseball cards that fell behind my dresser,” he replied loftily.
“Whoops.” I shrugged. “Go put your bag in the truck. Grab your school bag too.”
“It’s so empty in here,” he replied as he grabbed his school bag and started for the garage. “It looks like a hotel or something.”
I glanced at my watch.
“You got everything,” Jesse said as they came back down the stairs.
“Liar.”
They looked at me suspiciously.
“You get your journal from behind your shelf?”
“I knew you knew it was back there.”
“You’re not exactly CIA,” I joked. “Figured you’d want to pack that yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“Put your stuff in the truck,” I ordered. “I’m going to do one last walk-through.”
“Just like that?” they asked, glancing behind them and then around the house.
“Just like that,” I confirmed. “Time to go.”
I jogged up the stairs and checked the rooms one by one. They were as clean as I could get them in the time I had, and we hadn’t left a single personal item behind. They’d take my deposit for sure, since I’d left some furniture behind and they’d charge to dispose of it. Bullshit, since there was no way that they wouldn’t sell it or keep it for the next tenant, but I wasn’t going to dwell.
When I got back downstairs, Jesse and Finn were waiting at the garage door.
“I checked the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom,” Jesse said. “And under the couch and the TV table.”
I nodded. “All set?”
“I am!” Finn said excitedly.
“Then load up,” I ordered.
I locked up the house and made sure all the lights were turned off. When I got to the garage, Jesse was in the front passenger seat, and Finn was in the seat behind mine. I climbed into the truck and hit the garage door opener as I slammed the door. We waited as light filtered in, getting brighter and brighter until we could see the alleyway behind the house in its entirety. Then I fired up the engine and pulled out. I waited only long enough for the garage to close before I pulled away.
The first stop was the management office across town. I’d printed the paperwork to end my rental agreement months before, and I carried that and our keys into the office. Jesse and Finn waited in the car, one of them anxious and watchful, the other excited and bouncing around the backseat.
I wasn’t sure what exactly I’d instilled in Finn that made him game for anything at any time, but I had to admit that sometimes it made life a hell of a lot easier. Someday, it was going to come back to bite me in the ass when one of his little douchey friends had a really bad idea that Finn went along with, but I’d deal with that when it came. For now, I was going to be silently thankful that he hadn’t thought twice about coming home from school to see that his entire life had been packed into the back of our truck.
“Oh,” Barry, the property manager, said in surprise, looking down at the paperwork, garage opener, and keys I’d set on his desk.
“You need anything else?” I asked.
“You’ve already moved out?”
“Yeah.”
“I—um…” He looked over the paperwork. “No, I don’t think so. Uh, do you have a forwarding address?”
“You’ve got my number if you need it,” I replied. “Let me know if you need to send me anything.”
“Yes, uh, yeah.”
“Excellent. Thanks.” I turned on my heel and got out of that office. I’d dealt with the property manager plenty of times, but it wasn’t as if we were friends. From the little I knew of him, he responded to maintenance concerns quickly, made himself available almost obnoxiously, and he liked to talk. It didn’t really matter about what. He just wanted to have a conversation. Since I didn’t have time for that, it was better to bail before he dug in.