get a ticket, and a dolly so we can wheel your bags in because I figured you wouldn’t let me carry them.”
“And you were right.”
She nods. “I usually am.”
I heft the three bags out onto the dolly, positioning myself so I barely feel a strain to my knee. “I know it looks like I’m moving in, but I swear this is short term. My roommates packed all my stuff, and we lost electricity, so I couldn’t go through the bags…”
Liv shakes her head. “It’s okay. Do you have more you need to bring in?”
“That’s all right. They can stay in here,” I say, nodding at my Tahoe.
“With your luck, you’ll be robbed in the middle of the night.”
My attention snaps to her. That wasn’t an outcome I’d considered, but now that she’s put it out into the cosmos, it seems like the inevitable. “I’ll come back and get the rest.”
“You lost electricity?” she asks.
I nod, relaying what Lincoln had told me as she opens the door and works to keep Juliet back so that I can get inside.
It takes four trips to get everything, mostly because it’s dark and nothing stacks easily, and after my second trip, I hit my knee on the bumper, and I’ve felt my pulse throb in it since.
Liv is making the hide-a-bed as I make it in with the final load, complete with sheets and blankets and pillows that have all been neatly arranged. “I don’t know how comfortable it is,” she admits. “It has a thicker mattress than the old ones did where you felt the metal bars, but we might need to get some egg-crate foam or something.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Don’t be too sure. We used to have a hide-a-bed, and I’d make my mom sleep on it with me when we’d have movie nights, and she used to ditch me in the middle of the night because the thing was so uncomfortable.” She looks genuinely concerned as she eyes the bed.
“I sleep like a rock. This is going to be great, and dry, and warm—none of which I can say for my current bed.”
She stops fussing with the blankets. “You can use my bathroom. Feel free to put anything in there. And we can make some room for your bags, so they’re not stacked in the corner.” She looks around, pushing her dark hair back. It’s straight again today.
“I promise. It’s fine.”
Liv glances at me, her eyes wide and almost feral for a second before taking a deep breath. “I have a class at nine, so I’ll be up kind of early. I’ll try to be quiet, but Jules meows a lot when I get up. I swear she’s convinced I’ll forget to feed her. There’s coffee and cereal, maybe some bagels left. You can help yourself to whatever’s in there.”
“Liv, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
She sighs again, but her shoulders remain rigid. “Want some of the birthday cake I brought back with me?”
“I think I’m going to bed. I have to get up early tomorrow and go to work.”
“Sure, of course.” She moves one of the couch cushions, so it’s out of the way.
I catch her wrist as she starts to move toward her room. She stops, her eyes a bright shade of blue tonight as she looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing … I just … I know what it feels like to be displaced, and I just don’t want you to…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, her gaze falling beyond my shoulder.
Displaced.
The word wrestles around in my thoughts, begging for additional context.
“Is it too late to agree to cake?”
Her eyes focus, turning back to me. “Yes.” But then she smiles and shakes her head. “No. It’s never too late for cake, are you kidding?” She passes me two remotes. “This one works the TV, and this one works the cable box. You can see if anything good is on.”
She walks the short distance into the kitchen, where she opens the fridge and says something to the cat.
“Why do you have two remotes? These can be programmed to be one.”
“We aren’t exactly the best with electronics. Rose’s dad gave us this for Christmas and paid to have someone come install it, and they did the remote programming.
“This is a pretty sweet Christmas present.”
Liv does this noncommittal shrug and nod as she carries two plates of cake and an ice pack toward me. “For your knee,” she says.
“It’s fine.”
She nods. “I know.”
I place it on my knee