Ending the call, I slide out of the car and wrap my arms around my torso to combat the bitter wind howling at my back. Note to self: buy a massive winter coat, stat. The bigger, the better.
Chase raises his dark eyebrows. “Let me guess. That was Abby?”
It isn’t really a guess when she talks loud enough to render a megaphone unnecessary.
“Yup.” I press the rear hatch release, watching him in my peripheral vision. He opens his mouth to speak before closing it again without saying anything further. We both know where he stands on the Abby issue. He claims she’s a bad influence, but that’s ironic considering the source.
“Why didn’t you let yourself inside?” he asks, his tone softening. “It’s your home too now.”
“I don’t know. I wanted to wait for you.”
We circle around to the back of my SUV to find the oversized trunk and backseat crammed to the roof, which means we have our work cut out for us. In retrospect, I won’t need glittery cocktail dresses from sorority formals or out-of-season linen pants any time soon. Should’ve left some of it in storage, but it’s too late.
“Brr.” I shiver, bouncing on the spot for warmth. It’s the type of cold you feel right down to your bones. The minute we finish, I’m going to boil myself in an hour-long bath with an audiobook. “Let’s get this over with. If we work quickly, maybe we won’t freeze to death.”
My brother pinches the sleeve of my lightweight white jacket, giving me a withering look. “A real coat might help.”
“I have a hoodie underneath.”
“A windbreaker still won’t cut it in the middle of a Massachusetts winter.”
“Did you forget I’m moving from Arizona? Forgive me if I’m a little ill-prepared.”
“Don’t worry.” He hoists up a large box with a grunt. “I’ll introduce you to Dallas’s girlfriend, Shiv, and you can hit the mall until your credit cards melt. Bailey will be ecstatic to be spared from shopping duty.”
“It’s a deal.” Branching out socially would be a good idea. I love Abby, but she’s a little intense, bordering on overbearing at times, and it bleeds into the dynamic with the rest of our friend group. She also parties seven nights a week, which means hanging out with her requires doing the same.
When we get inside, Chase gives me a quick tour of the main and upper levels, both of which are passably clean. A few video game controllers are strewn around the living room, and someone left a carton of orange juice on the kitchen counter, but the dirty sock smell I’d feared is blessedly absent.
Then we move on to my temporary bedroom. Located off the living area, it formerly served as an office I suspect no one ever used and the glass-panel door leaves much to be desired in terms of privacy. It also lacks a closet, which is a fairly serious deficiency in light of my shopping habits. But the price is right （as in, practically free） and both of those problems can be easily rectified by a trip to IKEA.
As we pass the main floor bathroom, I poke my head in to find only a pedestal sink and toilet. “Um… where’s the shower? Did I miss it?”
“Both of the upstairs bathrooms are ensuites, so the closest shower is on the lower level. You’ll have to share with Ty,” Chase says apologetically. “But don’t worry, he’s not messy.”
Called it. Nightmare bathroom situation confirmed.
After two more trips to unload my car, the lower level is packed with cardboard boxes, reusable shopping bags, and stray items I shoved into the front seat. Mysteriously, my trunk is still as full as when we started.
Overwhelm barrels into me, and my stomach crumples. Now that I’m here, reality is sinking faster than I can process it. I have so much to do in so little time. Unpacking, finishing course registrations, filling out miscellaneous paperwork, handling my change of address, learning my way around an unfamiliar campus, making new friends, attending as many doctor’s appointments with Mom as possible…
“Sera.” Chase gently touches my arm, and only then do I realize I’m crying.
I sniffle, wiping away a stray tear with my finger. “Huh?”
He steps closer and wraps me in a hug, squeezing me tightly against his oversized frame. “I know it’s a lot to deal with. I’m here, and we’re going to do all we can as a family. But if I’m late for practice, Coach Miller will have my ass so let’s keep this moving.”
This is his nice way of telling me to suck it up. Unlike him, I wasn’t blessed with expert level compartmentalization skills. Any worries I have inevitably bleed into all areas of my life, hanging over my head until they resolve or blow up in my face.
I laugh-sob into his shoulder. “Okay.”
“Have you eaten? Did you take your meds?” Chase releases me and holds me at arm’s length, giving me a concerned once over.
“Yes, and yes.” It’s half true. Technically, I haven’t eaten—unless liquid breakfast counts—but I did remember to take my ADHD medication.
He nudges an overstuffed Lululemon tote with the toe of his white sneaker. “Good. We can order dinner later. Unpacking is gonna take you a while, though. You have enough blow dryers and curling irons to start your own salon.”
“It’s called self-care, Chase.” My extensive collection of professional hair tools is worth every penny. Besides, you can’t put a price tag on feeling good. Not a small one, at least.
“Sure.” He smirks, and his gaze falls to the pile of gigantic men’s shoes in the entry, recognition glancing across his face. “Hold on a sec, I didn’t think anyone was home.”
Brushing past me, he strides over to a closed door next to the stairs and yanks it open. He cups his mouth with his hand, leaning through the doorway. “Yo, Ty! You here? Come give me a hand bringing everything inside.”
Trepidation seizes hold of me. While I’ve known Dallas for years, Chase’s other roommate is a complete mystery.
Turning back to face me, Chase gestures with his keys. “We’ll finish unpacking your car while you organize stuff in your room. That way you can stay inside where it’s warm, snowflake.”
Wait a minute. Who’s he calling a snowflake?
The front door slams shut behind him before I can formulate a sassy retort. It’s impossible to match his level of verbal agility. I’ve been trying ever since I learned how to talk.
Hanging up my jacket, I scan the room and try to prioritize my next sequence of tasks. Should I begin by unpacking my clothes or shoes? Or maybe I should start with my makeup stash. I have a bunch of new products I haven’t unboxed yet.
Am I obsessing over minor details to distract myself from all the things in my life I can’t control? Yes. Will I continue to do so? Also yes.
Heavy footsteps echo in the downstairs stairwell. Nerves spiking, I glance up as a guy steps through the open doorway. He’s tall, with full-sleeve tattoos on both arms visible from a distance.
Our eyes lock and I freeze, clutching a hot pink Lululemon duffel bag in one hand.
Holy hell. My new roommate is hot enough to melt the ice on a rink. Piercing slate-gray eyes; a strong, square jawline; and a full, slightly sulky mouth. His sandy hair is cropped short at the sides, tousled on top in a way that invites you to rake your fingers through it.