I was on edge the first week back not knowing if or when Clay would show up. I could have asked Sam if he knew what Clay planned, but he hadn’t mentioned Clay since we’d left. I feared that if I brought it up, Sam would read into it thinking I missed Clay or something. Since I didn’t want Sam interfering or sending out a call to Clay causing him to show up when he otherwise wouldn’t have, I kept quiet letting my worry eat at me until I began jumping at my own shadow by mid-week.
Desperate for a distraction, I plunged feet first into two part-time jobs during what should have been my free summer between high school and college. Working as much as possible, I barely saw Sam, or had much time to think about Clay or the pack. I woke up early each morning, showered, ate breakfast, and packed a lunch, long before Sam got out of bed. Though I’m sure he heard me moving around. And because I cared, I started his coffee before I walked out the door.
Sam worked from home, spending his time investing on the pack’s behalf. It meant he didn’t need to get up until he felt like it. Since he occupied his days researching different financial ventures, he’d converted the third bedroom into an office after I’d moved in. His job suited him perfectly because he could leave anytime he needed for pack business.
A dark house greeted me when I returned home in the evening, worn out from the long day. Usually, Sam had something in the oven or refrigerator set aside for my dinner. I’d eat and then go to bed, only to start the cycle again in the morning. I reserved Sunday as my downtime, which I needed to hunt for an apartment or someone in need of a roommate. My hectic schedule successfully prevented thoughts of Clay from creeping in the entire summer.
Three weeks before the start of school, I found the perfect roommate, Rachel. Watching the papers near school, I came across her ad for a roommate. We hit it off the first time we spoke on the phone. She attended the same school I’d enrolled in, going into her third year in the nursing program, compared to the massage therapy program I enrolled in. She rented a two-bedroom house. Her roommate from the prior year had moved out after graduation. Rachel tried living on her own over the summer, but the bills grew too expensive and, she admitted, the house too quiet.
After our first call, I did some research and found the house wasn’t in the best part of town, but I couldn’t find anything closer that I could still afford. Plus, the unoccupied bedroom she offered came furnished with a bed and a dresser. I didn’t own the one I slept on now and didn’t feel right taking it with me when I left. I called Rachel and let her know I wanted the room.
Sunday, a week before school started, I once again packed my possessions to move. Sam pretended not to care I was leaving, but I knew he did when I saw him slip some money into the emergency cash I kept hidden in a half full tampon box in my dresser. I’d only stepped out of my room for a minute to grab my shampoo and brush from the bathroom. When I walked back into the room, he’d pretended to check the dresser as if ensuring I didn’t forget anything. I went along with it.
Packing didn’t take long. Everything I owned fit into several messenger bags and an old suitcase I’d gotten at a secondhand store. By lunch, we had everything I needed loaded into the back of Sam’s truck. A passerby wouldn’t even notice the small pile.
After one last look around the house to make sure I had everything, we climbed into the truck and started the journey. Excitement filled me, but I fought hard to keep it from showing. Sam sat behind the wheel looking slightly depressed. I didn’t think my joy would give him any comfort.
“You’ll call me if you have any trouble?” Sam asked yet again as we drove to Rachel’s place.
“Yes, Sam. But I’m over four hours from you. I’ll need to face things on my own.”
“Not on your own. Elder Joshua has moved nearby. I’ll be able to contact him if you have a need.”
Sam had mentioned Elder Joshua to me a few days after I found Rachel. I knew Elder Joshua recently moved there just for me, but didn’t make any complaint. As long as he stayed away until I needed something, we’d get along just fine.
When we arrived, Rachel sat waiting on the front step of a small ranch house for us. She’d described herself on the phone as just over average height with brown hair and eyes. She’d left out everything else. Her deep brown hair hung silky-straight, and the beautifully bronzed tone of her skin had me wondering if she had any African-American heritage. Highlighting her darkly lashed eyes, her perfectly arched brows didn’t appear tweezed or penciled.
At about five-foot ten inches, she passed average height with long lean legs extending from her cutoffs. Her V-necked top showed sufficient cleavage to know she didn’t need to stuff her bra either. Overall, she was gorgeous enough to make a straight girl wonder if she should switch teams and that worried the hell out of me. Oh, not that I’d switch teams. As annoying as men were, I still preferred them. No, her attitude the first time a man overlooked her and focused on me, worried me. Let’s face it. Pretty girls can be very mean.