Without thinking, I stepped into the room. A large pizza box and beer bottles were on the table. A single bed had disheveled sheets.
“Sorry for the mess,” he said, clearing off the table. “We had a pity party last night. Watched a bunch of rom-coms and one superhero movie.”
To me, it appeared to be the exact right environment for two twenty-something kids. This was what she should be doing. Hanging out with her peers, eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching movies. What was I doing here?
“I’m sorry. I should go.”
“What? Why? She’ll be back soon. She’s helping me move into my place today. I’m getting ready to head over for the walkthrough, and then I get to move in.”
“I don’t want to be in your way, then.” I started toward the door, but stopped short and turned to him. “What did you say about her stealing back her phone?”
“Her dad took it. I always thought she was overly dramatic when she said her father treated her like a kid. Turns out, he does. He took her phone and tried to ground her.” Tucker shook his head.
Perhaps that was why she didn’t respond to my calls.
“Listen, if you have to go, you can find her at my place.” Tucker found the pen and pad of paper that was standard in most motel rooms and started writing on it. “Here’s the address.”
“She’s moving in with you?” I absently took the paper. It didn’t seem like my pain could get any worse, but the idea of her living with Tucker, as right as my rational mind said it was, was excruciating.
“Yeah. She has to get away from her father.”
But not coming to me. As difficult as this visit was, at least I knew now where she stood. Maybe it was time to find Jeannette and sign those papers.
“Oh, wait,” Tucker said, drawing his hand through hair that could use a trim. “Not move in. Just staying. I told her she could stay with me for as long as she wanted unless a certain woman I like decides to move in and have my babies. Then Brooke is on the street.”
My eyes narrowed as I tried to understand what he was saying.
“It’s not like that between me and Brooke,” he said.
“Like what?”
“You know, romantic. She’s my friend. Oh, sure, I tried back in college to win her over, but she wasn’t interested. Personally, I think she was hung up on you even then.”
I was sure I looked like a loon as I stared at him, trying to work out what he was saying.
“How about you?” he asked.
“How about me what?”
“Are you hung up on her?”
It didn’t seem right to tell him how I felt when I hadn’t told her. “I’d like to talk to her.”
He studied me for a moment. “Well, that’s where she’ll be once we move my things.”
I looked around the room. I saw a duffle bag, but no boxes or other things indicative of moving into a new apartment. “Where are your things?”
“The moving truck out in the lot. It’s not a big one. I don’t have much stuff.”
I nodded and put the paper in my pocket. “Welcome to Salvation.”
“Thanks.”
I started opening the door when it hit me what he said. She was hung up on me. I turned again. “Is she still hung up on me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Hence the pity party.”
I stood for a moment as I let that sink in. I looked at him again. “Do you need help moving?”