Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Imogen

I always hated having people come around our place, but three hot guys? Part of me wanted to stop them, keep them waiting on the doorstep like dogs, until I emerged with a box in hand. Instead, I turned around once we got to the door and forced myself to smile.

"It's a bit of a mess…" There was no point in downplaying the situation. They'd see the reality soon enough. "Actually, it's a fucking pigsty." I cracked the door and then thrust it open, marching through. "Not by my choice."

My voice trailed away as they walked inside, the clutter, the mess, the disgusting stuff all dwarfed by them. I watched them take it all in with fresh eyes, wincing at the anticipated judgement.

My dad had been blunt about it the one and only time he visited. He'd frowned, sniffed, and then looked at me.

"I didn't raise you to live like this."

He hadn't. Left to my own devices, I did my dishes daily, put my clothes in the dirty clothes basket and washed them regularly so the place didn't stink, but… All those good habits seemed to fall by the wayside with Mike. At first, it was just the relief of not being nagged to do housework as I had been as a teen, but when the grot got to me and I cleaned everything up, it took only hours for it to look like I'd done nothing at all. I sank down into a feeling of hopelessness, all that hard work resulting in just more work. Talking to Mike led to arguments, accusations of nagging. I was supposed to be the ‘cool girl.' Part of me wanted to be that, just without rotting food in the sink. Mike knew he just had to wait me out.

But now, I'd finally be free of all this.

That's what had me nodding to myself before going out to my car and grabbing the boxes and tape gun, but when I got there, Lucas was standing beside me.

"Let me," he said, reaching out slowly for my burden.

He was a stranger, could've been worse than Mike or Phil or anyone, despite what Ursula said. Letting strangers into my home was insanity, so why did I hand everything over to him? Perhaps it was because I was carrying too many burdens right now, and if he was willing to take one of them, then I was OK with that. He had one box open and was taping it together when he said, "Bring what you want packed here and we'll get it sorted for you." He glanced at his friends. "We've done this before."

"Not a dish cracked. Not a vase shattered."

Kyle's upbeat tone and smile was meant to put me at ease, but that just had me looking at the sink. It was disgusting, there was no other word for it. Crusted food gone bad, small flies hanging over the mess, no doubt to spawn maggots soon, and I hated that I knew that.

"I don't think I'm taking any of the dishes with me," I said, trying to make a joke of the situation.

"We'll get you some new ones," Asher assured me, making me wonder what exactly Bear Paw Protection did for its clients.

And what it cost.

"I can pay you for—" I started to say.

"The business is a not-for-profit." Asher sounded cool and clipped, professional, as he spoke. "But we have deep pockets. Our supporters believe in helping those who are in need. We have an account with a place that will outfit your new apartment with everything you need, so…" He surveyed the mess like it personally offended him. No, made him angry. Not at me, his gaze immediately softened when it returned my way. "Identify what's important to you, what you would miss if you lost it forever, and we'll pack it and move it for you."

He didn't know what he was offering. A brand new future that had been out of reach, a mirage I could never touch no matter how fast I staggered forward, but now? Now all my dreams could come true. That had me moving, pawing through the piles of mess, dragging out things I really needed. Essential documents, treasured keepsakes, mementoes my grandmother had given me before she died, my favourite books. I carried them over to the guys, filling box after box until I came to stand before a painting I'd done in my year 12 art class.

A guitarist was painted in broad, thick strokes, the impasto paint sticking up off the surface of the canvas. I remembered the girl who'd painted it. She'd been stoked that one of the cool boys at school picked her of all people to be his girlfriend. Boys stared at me with new interest, as if Mike's presence made me more attractive, and girls narrowed their eyes, trying to work out what made me so special, but it wasn't what they thought. It wasn't a matter of tits, arse, or great legs, but the fact he could do what he wanted and I'd let him.

I stepped away from the painting, away from the elation, the excitement, I'd felt at the time. Mike busted into my neat, boring little life, showing me a whole other world that was unfettered by rules, and I'd loved every minute of it, right up until the point I didn't. That was years ago, not that many after the painting was completed, and I knew I couldn't have it hanging up on my wall in my new place. Let is grow dustier, be festooned by more cobwebs, even rot on the wall. I didn't care, because I was done.

I managed to collect the rest of my things in record time after that. Walking away from the painting helped recalibrate something inside me. I made decisions lightning quick on what I actually needed, so we finished up before midnight.

"Ready?" Kyle asked me, but he knew. They all knew. All the boxes had been slid into the back of their fancy car, ready to go and I just nodded. I pulled the keys to the place off my keyring, clearing a space on the table to make clear that's where they were, and then typed out a quick message.

I've moved out. Keep it short, simple, and to the point, I thought, having practised this scenario in my mind so many times. The keys are on the table. My name is off the lease, and you've got my bond. Don't try to contact me. I'm done.

I hit send, then blocked his number and any of his flying monkeys that he might try and set against me. That left my contact list depressingly small, but that was OK. I'd be starting anew, finding new friends, a new life even… My eyes slid upwards, watching the guys finalise the packing of the boxes in the car before pulling the hatch door down. Even love one day. Nothing in my life felt better than walking away from the chaos inside this apartment, and right now, I clung to that feeling as I locked the door behind me.

"Here?" Asher said, peering through the darkness at the apartment block that would become my new home.

"Here," I said with a nod and then scrambled out of the back seat, ready to move in.