Chapter Thirty Six

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"No," I whisper, my heart sinking at the sound of the apartment door opening and clicking shut

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"No," I whisper, my heart sinking at the sound of the apartment door opening and clicking shut.

"No. No. No." I specifically remember telling Beckett that Monday was my day to pack up, emphasizing for him not to be around when I arrived.

Of course, this would happen. Of course, he just shows up when I asked him not to.

The tears bubbling up behind my eyes remind me I've had just a little bit on my mind lately. Don't think about how overwhelmed you are, June. Don't think about moving your things to your parents' place. Don't think about how it felt to leave Wells the other day. Don't think how you're going to have to see him tomorrow at work.

Oh god, now my eyes are stinging, and my nose is trickling, and all I want is to sink into the couch in front of me and disappear under my favorite turquoise heated blanket for a very very long time.

"Please, just leave," I plead in a wobbly voice, squeezing my eyes shut as I hear the steps come closer. "If you do, I promise I'll leave the Dyson vacuum."

"There's no way you're giving him the Dyson Vacuum. I bought you that for Christmas last year," Ellis asserts, jolting my eyes open at the sound of her voice.

"You didn't buy it for her, Ellis. You had extras from with they sponsored you," Delaney retorts, shaking her head listlessly.

"Oh, thank god," I breathe out putting my hand to my chest, relief washing over me as I see Ellis and Delaney standing in the kitchen. "It's just you guys," I manage, offering them a watery smile.

"Just us? I took a day off work to come help you pack your shit. I'm supposed to be decorating my classroom right now," Delaney says, grabbing Beckett's portable Sonos speaker off the counter and tossing it into one of the boxes in the kitchen.

"That's not mine," I say, pointing to the box.

"It is now."

"You're not crying again are you?" Ellis approaches, concerned.

I shrug, brushing away my tears. "I wasn't a few seconds ago. That's a new record. Four hours," I attempt to joke, but my laughter comes out too wobbly.

They both cast sympathetic glances my way, prompting an eye roll from me.

"Don't give me that look. I'm fine," I assert, averting my gaze as I continue packing my books into the box.

"No, you're not. You're a mess," Delaney says as she walks in, glancing into the box I'm packing.

"I am not a mess."

There's a grumble of protest in her throat as she heads over to the kitchen. "Yes, you are. Your sweatshirt is inside out and backward, your bun is halfway coming undone, you have two different socks on your feet, and your eyes are puffy."

Instinctively, I touch the collar of my grey crew neck sweatshirt and glance down. Sure enough, it's inside out and backward, there's a coffee stain not only on my sweatshirt but also on my jeans—probably from spilling it on my drive over here. And as if that weren't enough, I look down at my feet, I have one cream sock with strawberries printed on it, while the other is mustard-colored with stripes.

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