"Anytime, baby girl."
* * *
When I pull up in front of Hailey's old apartment, I see Remy already walking down the stairs with a big box in her hands.
"You get here early?" I ask as she loads it into the back of her car.
She drops it with a grunt, then turns to me as she says, "Not really. I just lit a fire under her ass because I want to get her the fuck out of here."
I nod my agreement. I want to distance her from Steve as much as humanly possible after this.
"Hi, Jax," comes floating down the steps like a song on the wind, and when I turn to face Hailey, she's got a smile on her face rivaling sunshine itself.
I return the smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders when she finally reaches me. "Hi, baby girl," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Thanks for helping," she says as she squeezes my waist. "We already started packing, so I think we'll actually be done with this pretty quickly. If you could do the kitchen, then Remy and I will finish up in the bedroom and bathroom. Sound good?"
I nod. "Whatever you need. Let's get you out of here."
She sobers at my intensity and gives a quick nod.
Once we're upstairs, she directs me to the kitchen, where everything but the plates and utensils are hers to take. And as I pack the boxes, I realize just how invested Hailey is in her dream of owning a restaurant.
It's not that she has every appliance or cooking tool, it's that the ones she does have are well-used. She clearly loves spending time in the kitchen. I've always known she likes cooking for her loved ones, but by the looks of every item here, she seems to spend a lot of time experimenting, possibly even using it as a form of self-care.
I've always known her ultimate dream is to own a restaurant or café, and as I stand in the kitchen and pack everything into boxes, I suddenly find myself wondering why we don't encourage her more. I've eaten her food and know she has the talent for it, so why haven’t we pushed her into culinary school or to open her own place? Clearly she has the skills and drive for it.
When Remy walks out of the bedroom an hour later, with two boxes in her hands and pushing another with her feet, I hurriedly finish wrapping the last mug and stride over to her to help.
"Just grab the top one," she says through gritted teeth.
"A little too ambitious?" I chuckle as I easily pluck it from her hands.
"Fuck you," she mutters. "I am an independent woman; I could carry it if I wanted to. You're just easy labor."
I just laugh again and follow her out the door.
Except when I accidentally bump the doorframe on the way out, the bottom flap of the box gets caught and the entire bottom falls open.
Including all the underwear and lingerie in said box.
I let out a muttered curse. Remy's already down the hallway and heading out, so she doesn't even notice I'm not behind her anymore. All I can do is drop to my knees and begin hurriedly stuffing it back in the box, trying desperately not to touch anything more than I have to because it feels wrong, even deviant, to touch something like this ofHailey's.
So I just continue piling everything back into the box as fast as I can. All of the silk thongs and matching bra sets and thigh high stockings that I never knew Hailey was capable of wearing. And it's all I can picture now… Hailey leaning against the bedroom doorframe in a midnight blue thong and bra set, her breasts pushed up into perfect handfuls, her garters swaying tantalizingly as she cocks her hip and beckons me closer—
"Oh my God." I hear said on a breath behind me. I turn to look just as Hailey drops to her knees next to me and immediately starts grabbing the clothes from my hands and stuffing them into the box. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, the embarrassment clear in her expression.
"I'm sorry, the bottom opened up," I mumble awkwardly, continuing to kneel there with my hands in my lap because I don't want to make her any more uncomfortable by touching her underwear.
The sudden awkwardness has me scrambling to say something, anything to distract from her embarrassment, and for some reason, I settle on, "Why don't you talk more about wanting to open up a restaurant?"
Her head snaps up in surprise. "What?"
"I just mean, you clearly love the kitchen, and we all know you're really good at it, so why don't you talk about it more? I don't even know if you know what kind of place you'd want to run."
Her gaze drops back to her clothes, and she continues to hurriedly stuff them in the box. "It's just a hobby. I don't know if I'll ever actually do anything about it," she mumbles.
"But you could make a career of it," I blurt, the tension of the entire situation making me more honest than usual. "Why not pursue what you love?"