Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 18

Emersyn

I'm pacing back and forth in the living room, phone in hand. After ignoring Lyle's calls for three weeks, I finally called him back and told him I wanted to talk. A talk? Nah, this is a closure trip—grab my stuff and bolt. Furniture? He can keep it to impress his next fling. I just want my clothes, books, and a couple of sentimental items.

My stomach's a pit of nerves as I wait for Marx to come downstairs. The other day, he'd mentioned he'd help me get my stuff back, and now's the moment of truth. As I hear footsteps on the stairs, my eyes flick toward the source of the sound. There he is.

"Hey," I start, my voice betraying a slight quiver. "So, uh. Remember you said you'd help me get my stuff from my old apartment?"

He looks at me, his eyes meeting mine through his glasses. "Yes."

"Do you think you could go now?" I ask sheepishly. "He's kind of expecting me.

"Give me a few to get ready."

As he goes back upstairs I can't help but feel a mix of relief and uncertainty. This would be the first time I'd see Lyle since the breakup, but knowing Marx will be there makes me feel a lot braver.

I feel a twinge of the humiliation I felt when I caught him cheating. The image of him buried deep inside another woman is forever burned into my mind. They were on top of my favorite blanket too. I might take it back just to burn it.

Twenty minutes later, we're in Marx's van, and I'm guiding him to the apartment that I once thought would be my forever home. It feels like a different lifetime now.

Marx made a quick detour to Disorderly, grabbing a few boxes for my things. I hadn't even thought about boxes. I'm glad one of us has put some thought into this.

We pull up in front of the building, and Marx kills the engine. "You ready?" he asks, his words tinged with a seriousness I've grown to appreciate.

I take a deep breath, clutching the strap of my empty duffle bag. "As ready as I'll ever be."

He nods, opening his door and stepping out of the car. I follow suit. It's strange, having Marx here, walking beside me to confront my past. Yet, as we step into the elevator, which is actually working today, and I hit the button for the right floor, there's no one else I'd rather have by my side.

"Just breathe," he advises, his voice low as we ascend.

He must see how nervous I am. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. Maybe we can just leave. I can rebuy the things I'm missing.

But as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open, I know it's time to close this chapter of my life.

I take a deep breath and step out, Marx following close behind. Here goes nothing.

As we walk down the hall, the old beige carpet seems more worn than I remember. Marx places the boxes he's carrying against the wall next to Lyle's apartment door. I take another steadying breath and then knock.

A few moments later, the door swings open, and there's Lyle. His black hair is as unremarkable as ever, and for a second, he looks genuinely happy to see me. But that expression evaporates when his gaze shifts and lands on Marx.

"Emersyn! Uh, wow, you came. Who's he?" Lyle nods toward Marx, his eyes narrowing.

"It doesn't matter," I snap, my tone colder than I intended. "Are you gonna invite me in or what?"

Lyle hesitates, eyeing Marx once more. "Sure, come in. But maybe he should stay in the hall while we talk?"

Before I can respond, Marx cuts in, "No way."