Page 202 of Their Arrangement
“Ready?”
I nodded. But I wasn’t. Not even close.
I moved like I was underwater. Hands fumbling. Chest tight. Every breath felt like I was inhaling glass.
The drawers wouldn’t open right. My fingers kept missing the handles. My knees bumped the bedframe like I didn’t know the shape of my own space anymore.
Wolfe didn’t say anything.
He stood near the door, arms crossed. Watching. Not judging. Not rushing. Just… there.
The silence should have helped. It didn’t. It made me feel like I was being timed. Like I was already too late.
I folded a sweatshirt and realized I hadn’t blinked in over a minute. My vision blurred. Tears that didn’t fall—but burned anyway. When I tried to pull a pair of jeans from the drawer, my hand shook so badly the denim slipped through my fingers.
I reached for them again.
Failed.
Again.
And then I stopped trying.
My arms dropped to my sides. I stared down at the mess on the floor—clothes, socks, a bra I didn’t remember liking. It all looked like a stranger’s life. One I didn’t belong to anymore. Wolfe crossed the room without a sound.
Knelt.
Started folding.
One piece at a time.
Efficient.
Precise.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. He just took over. And I let him. Because I couldn’t do it.
He moved like he’d done it before. Like there was a versionof him who had packed someone else’s life in silence once. Or maybe just pieces of his own.
He held up a toothbrush. Raised an eyebrow. I nodded. He added it to the bag.
By the time he zipped the second duffel, my legs were shaking. I sat on the edge of the bed. Held my hands in my lap. Looked at the window like it might offer something better than what waited behind the door. It didn’t.
But Wolfe did. He pulled the hoodie zipper up without touching me. Fixed the collar gently. Then handed me the bag.
“You good?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Tried again.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Okay. Then let’s go.”
