Exposed King (Boys of Brisley 2)

Chapter Ten:

Stress Dreams

Thankfully, movinginto Destiny and Angel’s old house was easy. I had almost nothing with me except for a couple of suitcases and my good looks, so all it took was an hour of unpacking, a large pizza, and two Bud Lights to get settled. But when that pizza box was empty and beer number three was winking at me from the otherwise-empty fridge, the silence set it.

It was so ... fucking ... quiet.

I did everything I could to put off what would happen next – I called Sterling, went grocery shopping, figured out how to hook my phone up to the surround sound so I could listen to music. I danced, rearranged the living room since they’d had it set up for a family and not an eternal bachelor.

I cooked myself dinner.

They’d at least been kind enough to leave the furniture for me which saved me a few bucks and made it so I didn’t have to sleep on the floor, but it took a while to convince myself to set foot inside the master bedroom. I wasn’t sure if fresh sheets would be enough to make me ignore the things that mattress had seen, so I found myself trying to fit my 6’4 frame onto their daughter’s toddler bed instead. I didn’t mind the explosions of pink throughout the room since they reminded me of Sunday’s or the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, but the fact that the footboard was digging into the crux of my knees wasn’t doing me any favors. I couldn’t toss, couldn’t turn, couldn’t sleep on my side or my stomach. I couldn’t sleep period, but I must’ve drifted off at some point because I woke up abruptly thinking I was a fucking unicorn.

A fucking unicorn.

Fever dreams, stress dreams, were there any differences at all?

I eventually gave up and made myself some coffee around five. The sun wasn’t quite up yet which meant I shouldn’t have been either, but I grabbed my laptop and sat down at the outdated kitchen table to buy myself a new bed – if one thing was certain, it was that my pampered ass needed beauty sleep that I’d never get in a bed the size of a body pillow.

A king-sized frame, box spring, mattress, satin sheet set, and same-day shipping later, I was five thousand dollars poorer but feeling better about things. I made myself some scrambled eggs and toast, making mental notes to myself about upgrading the appliances and buying new frying pans, then cleaned up the mess as the sun rose properly.

I still wasn’t quite ready to start taking stock of things around the house, so I dragged my tired body outside and jogged around the neighborhood, and the memories that surfaced were unwelcome as hell. I didn’t want to think about our old block parties or the park where I used to play chess with whoever wanted to join me. I didn’t want to look at the bars I used to frequent or the church where I’d committed every cardinal sin imaginable but murder. The sky looked the same, the streets looked the same, the cookie-cutter houses hadn’t changed a bit since my time here, but everything still felt ... different. Like I was looking at it through a mirror or a dream, not like I was present and sweating and panting all over the pristine sidewalks.

I was there, but I wasn’t ... there.

When I finally got back, I showered again and threw on a pair of sweats, then grabbed a notebook and a pen and took a deep breath. It was time, whether I wanted it to be or not.

Though this wasn’t the first time I was selling off one of my houses, it was the first time I’d had to do it after people had lived there full-time. My homes in other cities were for vacation purposes only, all modern already and kept up with regularly. But here, I could see that things wouldn’t be so simple. The appliances were outdated, the pipes were making a weird noise, the lightbulbs in the basement were un-housed and mostly burnt out. They hadn’t trashed the place by any means, but they also hadn’t really done anything in the way of repairs or upkeep, and it didn’t help that this was the oldest home I had.

I had a lot of work to do.

I started by making separate pages in that notebook for each room, then started upstairs in their daughter’s room. Since I planned on selling the house fully furnished, I figured it was easiest to leave this room set up the same. However, I jotted down the need for a more neutrally colored paint, wood stain to fix the dresser’s cosmetic blemishes, and new carpet. It was clear that their little girl was artistic based on the Play-Doh, paint smears, and confetti I found all over the damn place, but it made me smile. This house was lived in. I might’ve been salty about how everything played out, but part of me was glad I chose to let them stay.

From there, I checked what used to be a guest bedroom and found what, I assumed, was a nursery. They’d taken the furniture from this room, but there were animal decals all over the wall and a mobile still hanging from the ceiling. My chest ached and I nearly walked out and left it alone – the older I got, the surer I was that I’d never be a dad, no matter what I told Zeppelin. When I thought of all the near-misses I’d had, all the women who had told me at one point or another that they were having my baby and it hadn’t worked out, I started to fear I’d missed my shot. I’d been so scared of that actually happening, and now ...

Mortality was a real bitch.

This’ll make a nice home office, I thought, making myself a note to get a desk, some paint, and make sure the room had enough outlets. I moved on quickly to the actual spare bedroom, then thanked my lucky stars when I saw that nothing needed done.

It just ... also occurred to me then that I’d slept in a toddler bed for nothing. “Fuckin’ hell, Ollie,” I mumbled to myself. “Great job. Very good. Super smart.”

The rest of the house was more or less the same — the bathrooms needed to be completely renovated and so did the kitchen, but I really only needed new light fixtures and some paint down in the finished basement. The living room and dining room both needed updated flooring and a paint job, but other than that ... I was good. With a little luck in the contracting department and some good weather to fix the cement around the inground pool, I’d be back home in Brisley by fall.

I was giving myself four months to flip this house and get out. Four months to convince Mia to at least let me spoil her once before I left ... and four months to get my shit straightened out so I could be a productive member of my family again when I got home.

I just had a long ass way to go before I got there.