It takes Wade and me two hours and fifteen minutes to strip my room down to nothing, load up my boxes into our vehicles, and make it a respectable level of clean.
As we're leaving, he tosses my room key on the desk, then presses down the levers on the can in the bathroom, and the one sitting on my desk, allowing a thick white smoke to spray from the top of the canisters. It smells faintly of lemons.
As we walk down the hall toward the exit, I resist the urge to trail my finger along the wall of the hallway. First, because it defeats the purpose of removing my DNA from my dorm room if I have it all over the halls. And second, because I know, deep in my heart, I won't be coming back to the place that I've called home for the last four years.
The realization leaves a gaping hole in my chest, and I wrap my arms around my torso.
Wade glances at me. His brows dip. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I just wasn't expecting the emotions, ya know?"
"The initial move is always the hardest," he says. "It'll get easier after this one."
"How many times have you moved?" I ask, sneaking a peak at his profile with high cheek bones, and strong jaw line. Sheesh this guy is easy on the eyes.
Wade stares straight ahead and frowns. "That would be telling."
"Ugh!" I throw my hands into the air. "Am I allowed to ask anything semi-personal? You probably know everything about me. Why can't I know something about you?"
We walk the rest of the way in silence. When we get to my car, I stuff the last of my stuff in the back seat in a huff.
Wade gives me a 'we've already been over this' look, which only pisses me off more. Does he really expect me to never ask questions? That's totally counterintuitive to being a spy. We ask questions. We probe. We find stuff out. That's what we do.
I get behind the wheel of my car and slam it closed.
Wade's shoulder's droop as if he's heaving a massive sigh of frustration before he runs his hands through his black hair and walks to his black SUV and climbs into the driver's side.
I follow his SUV to a massive storage facility, on the edge of town filled with rows of storage units. The gravel crunches under our tires as we drive through the chain link fence topped by razor wire and video cameras. Wade goes to the very back, passing dozen rows of storage units until we hit the larger units with doors that look like solid plates of steel rather than rolling garage doors. Then he parks and gets out of his SUV.
When I slow my car and roll down my window he goes to one of the large doors, and leans to the side with all of his weight until it slides it to the side, revealing a space large enough for my car.
Then he squats next to my door and holds out his hand. "Gimme what you're taking with you. Park your car in the garage for safekeeping until this mission is over."
My brows shoot up. "Seriously?"
"Nothing from your former life comes with you," he says again, raising his brows.
I pinch the bridge of my nose then step out of the car and grab my luggage from the back seat. He takes the larger suitcases from me. The chords of his forearms flex with the effort of hefting them, but he carries them like they're pillows instead of fifty-pounds of luggage..
I, on the other hand, am using my weight to counterbalance the other bags to keep from falling on my side.
After stowing his parcels, he turns and grabs mine, tossing them into his SUV without a second thought. He waits for me to back my car into the storage unit then leans into the door again, closing it with a clank that reminds me of prison doors closing. He points to the keypad secured to the side of the cinderblock building, showing me how to create a seven-digit passcode to unlock the storage space when I return. When we're done, I climb into the passenger seat of his SUV and buckle up.
"You ready to start this new life?" He asks, his palm resting on the top of his steering wheel.
I take one last breath, silently say goodbye to all my personal belongings, then say, "As ready as I'll ever be."