Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(55)
I let my eyes fall to the front doors past Trey and notice their standing position. He tries to release my hand again and this time I let him.
“It was a little one, a few seconds tops. Maybe a three on the scale. Nothing to worry about. It’s all okay.”
“Nothing to worry about?” I feel more panic building up inside. This time from anger. “A three on the scale! How big is the scale? Why is there a scale at all? Why do you people choose to live in a place where the ground moves?”
He smiles at my outburst. “The view, the weather,” he pauses and then picks back up again, “most recently the people.” He tugs on my other hand and I let it fall but keep my feet braced. “It’s over now. Everything is okay,” he repeats his earlier promise, but it doesn't make me feel any better the second time.
I open my mouth, but rather than words, my first sob echoes through the tiny space and I back into the dark closet. “Everything is not okay, Trey.” I sink to the floor in the middle of the room and stick my legs out to my side. "I live in a place that will drown me when it crumbles into the bay. And my sister can’t come live with me because I have no place for her to say since I sleep on a couch. My dad still doesn’t know I lost my job out here. I owe a college education in back rent.”
My words are lost on another sob and Trey sits on the floor next to me. His arms wrap around me and he tugs me into his shoulder. The door closes behind him and we’re covered in blackness.
“I just survived an earthquake and I can’t even call my mom and tell her about it. I’ll never call her again.” Thoughts of my mom and everything I’ll never get to share with her take over any fear of the ground falling out from under me. It already did back in September, but for some reason it didn’t take me with it. How can I have lost someone so important, but the world kept spinning without her on it?
Tears track down my face only to be soaked up by Trey’s shirt as my body rocks into his. He tightens his grip on me and one hand slowly rubs my back, but it does nothing to calm my outpouring.
Time slows and eventually my cries even out. I’m able to gain control of my ragged breathing. Trey doesn’t say anything, but he continues to rub my back in small circles. After a few more minutes, I’ve quieted enough to talk again and the embarrassment over what happened in this closet makes my body tight for new reasons. Trey must think I’m a mess. Who am I kidding? I am a mess.
I move my head away from his shoulder and wipe a hand down it even though my palm does nothing to soak up the wetness my tears left behind. “I’m so sorry.” I attempt to inch away from him, but his grip tightens keeping me in place. My eyes are tired, but they can’t take much in from the black closet. A thin line of light brightens the floor from the bottom and I remember I’m at work.
“God. I can’t go back out there like this,” I moan and put my head back into Trey’s wet sleeve.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s probably left by now and no one comes out this way anyway. The back entrance is closer to the parking lot." This explains why I’ve never seen anyone leave the building after I check them in.
I move my head again and reach for my phone but remember it’s at my desk. “What time is it?”
The circles on my back stop and the room lights up when Trey turns on his phone. “A little after six.”
Wonderful. I’ve been sitting on the floor in an empty closet crying into his shoulder for over an hour. Yes, definitely a hot mess over here.
My face heats and I’m thankful for the darkened room. “I’m sorry.” I try to move away again, but still his arm holds on.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I would have sat on the floor with you all night.”
I laugh a small amount at his words because they came from Trey and there isn’t another response I can muster at the moment.
“Come on. Let’s get out of the closet.”
He stands up and then reaches an arm out to help me. My legs ache after being still for so long and I stretch them out for a second while Trey does the same. He opens the door and I blink repeatedly as the light from the lobby filters into the room.
My face has to be tear stained and red, but he doesn’t comment as I follow him into the empty lobby. I scan the room and take note that besides the pen still on the floor, everything is where I left it when I made my frantic dash to the closet.
Trey opens the door to the offices and sticks his head on the other side before looking back. “It’s empty. Everyone’s gone home. Come on."
My heels click on the floor and it sounds louder than normal. The desk-filled room is empty of people on the other side of the door. The lights slowly flicker back on as Trey flips the switches to our right. The door to Trey’s office is closed. The blinds on his big window are open, but the lights inside are off.
He walks through to his right and stops at the two large sectional sofas that corner off the side of the room. The large television is black, but he grabs a remote and the screen flashes to life. Various gaming consoles and controllers litter the space, dead giveaways this is the area where the boys play games throughout the day.
I stand beside him next to the black leather sofas. “You know this place needs bean bags if you’re going to play up the whole gamer thing.”
He laughs and then jumps over the back of the couch and settles in the middle. “I kept telling Finn to pick some up while we shopped, but he wouldn’t listen to me. These are comfortable, but they don’t cradle the butt like a bean bag.” He taps the seat next to him. Rather than jump over and risk kicking him in the face, I take the adult approach and walk around.