I tossed clothes in my suitcase, uncaring they were piling up right in the middle.

Oliver had strolled in and plopped his interfering ass in the only chair in my room, watching without saying a word. And that made it worse because when he did speak, he’d have all his thoughts gathered, while mine were just as jumbled as my clothing.

Looking at him aggravated me, so I reverted to just throwing things over my shoulder toward the bed. When my underwear drawer was empty, I had no choice but to turn around and finish by adding the two solitary dresses I owned.

The sight before me would have been comical any other day. Unfortunately, funny skipped town, never to be heard from again, at least not until after I tracked down my murdering not-so-dead husband. Maybe then I’d feel at peace in my own mind enough to find the humor in things.

Clenching my jaw, I went about picking up my underwear—strewn from the foot of the bed all the way to where Oliver sat, black lace hanging off his shoulder.

He wore a smirk that made my own lips twitch, but I caught myself and formed a scowl instead as I snatched up the little black offenders clinging to him like Velcro.

He cleared his throat. My shoulders went somewhere up around my ears as I tossed the underwear into my suitcase and then took the four steps past him to my closet.

“Most girls would be in a panic trying to pack the right clothes for a cruise,” he said, humor lacing his words.

I took the bait. “I’m not most girls.”

He nodded, relaxing even further into the chair. “I would have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to do such a cake job and sail the high seas.”

I thought about telling him what I’d remembered. Thought about it for like a whole two seconds before I decided against it. It wasn’t likely he’d side with me on it, or even go to Cole about it. I’d already tried to talk to Cole. He’d asked me to let him look into things so he could figure out what went wrong and possibly fix it. When I pushed, asking to be the one to go after Trent and bring him in myself, Cole had given me a ‘not up for negotiations’ no.

“I have to finish packing,” I said, tossing the dresses into the mix of piled clothing and then disappearing into the bathroom to grab my makeup bag and all the other toiletries I’d need.

When I came back out, Oliver stood over my suitcase. He folded my clothes and laid them neatly inside.

I shouldered him out of the way as he reached for one of my bras. “Do you mind?”

He nudged me back, shooing me away as he continued folding and stacking. “You obviously don’t know how to pack. Besides, I can’t sit here any longer and look at this mess. Is it Josh?”

He changed subjects so fast I found myself stopping to process what he asked, but I still couldn’t make sense of it. “Is what Josh?”

“The reason you don’t want to go on the cruise. I know he doesn’t have a lot of field experience, but he did okay on his first mission out.”

He didn’t have to speak for Josh. In fact, no one had to. Josh had done his job, and done it well. He’d kept calm under pressure. He hadn’t once slipped up on his cover. It was like he’d been born to be a chameleon, just like the rest of us.

“Why can’t Riley go? Or Paige, or—”

“If you’d have looked at the file, you’d know the reason why they aren’t going, and you are,” he answered, holding his hand out for my makeup bag. “It’s bad enough I had to corner you to pack and to tell you it was a cruise so you didn’t have a suitcase of cargo pants and black shirts. Look, if this is about Trent…”

I slammed the door on my feelings, masked my face, and said, “I don’t want to talk about him.”

Oliver sighed as he lifted my suitcase from the bed. “Yeah, well, you might not want to talk about him, but you’ll eventually have to.”

“Not if I have any say in it,” I shot back, walking out of my room with Oliver right on my heels.

“The past aside, I really think you should look at the file Flint gave Josh before you leave. You know how important it is to have all the intel on a job before you go out on assignment. Get your shit together, E.”

I turned to give him a piece of my mind, but he brushed past me with quick strides, veering off around the corner.

“Ella,” Paige called from the other end of the hallway.

I turned, forcing my face into a neutral mask of indifference. It didn’t help because once Paige got a look at me, her eyebrows pulled together, face changing to one of concern. “You okay?”

Out of everyone, Paige was the only one who got it. Who’d saw me at my most vulnerable when the shocking news of Trent’s resurrection had punched me in the heart like a defibrillator. That’s not true, Josh had been there too. But Josh, I reminded myself, was a man. And men, no matter how hard they tried, would never understand the inner workings or feelings of a woman betrayed.

Instead of answering, I hitched my shoulder slightly. Noticing the bag in her hands, I asked, “Going somewhere?”

She snorted. “No, thank God. But you are. And no self-respectable girl would allow her friend to go on a cruise without the right attire.”

She pushed the bag toward me with a smile as I groaned. “I took a collection. There are enough bathing suits in there to get you through without having to wear the same one all the time. Oh, and there’s cover-ups and SPF-50 so you can coat that vampire-toned skin and not turn into a lobster.”

I bit back what I really wanted to say and gave her a sharp nod, adding a brisk ‘thank you’ as an afterthought. There was no reason to be a raging bitch when Paige was just trying to be nice. 

“Have a safe trip,” Paige added, clasping her hands together, bottom lip pinched between her front teeth.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” Riley said as her head popped around the corner of the intersecting hallway.

My patience, thin as it already was, snapped. “Where the hell else would I be?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “A little gratitude, Cinder-Ella. Especially since I just got a peek at your suitcase and realized how much you didn’t pack. Although, the one thing you won’t run out of for a while is clean underwear. Yeesh, I thought I had a Victoria Secret problem.”

“You went through my suitcase?” What the hell was wrong with them? Busy-bodied, interfering shits. “And who said I needed bathing suits?”

“Honey, we’re from the South. Bathing suits are everyday wear, so coming up with a few wasn’t much of a problem, especially since you’re going on a cruise,” Paige retorted.

“You make it sound like that’s all people wear on a cruise. Who the hell runs around in a bathing suit all the time?” I snapped.

“Southern girls do. At least in the summer,” Riley chided.

Paige followed that up by saying, “See, we’re not afraid to get muddy or pretty. And we’re not above paradin’ our crazy on the front porch while we sip sweet tea and keep it company. We’re also damn good friends who make really bad enemies. We love with every bit of our southern-charmed hearts and bless those ignorant souls around us while making it sound like we’re being nice. Going through your suitcase? That’s our way of saying that we know you’re not taking care of yourself, so we’re gonna step in and mother hen the shit out of you until you do, so get over it.”

“You’ll definitely need a few more dresses, and some shoes. Do yourself a favor and find some time to relax and have a little fun. Lord knows you need it,” Riley said, handing over another bag, larger than the one Paige gave me.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do with these?” I asked, meaning the bags since Oliver had taken off with my suitcase.

“Best advice? Wear the blue one—it’s Josh’s favorite color,” Riley answered, giving me a quick finger wave over her shoulder as she turned to walk away, adding, “Safe travels, Ella. Bring me back a shirt or something for all my troubles.”

She laughed, damn her, as she walked away.

Paige reached out to place her hand lightly on my shoulder and said, “Don’t mind her. She means well. We’ll see you when you get back.”

The two of them left me standing in the hallway laden down with bags put together just for me. Hand delivered to me like some sort of an outreach of friendship through clothing and bantered comments. It had been a long time since I had any sort of female companionship. Even longer since I physically felt the touch of a genuine friend. One who didn’t expect anything from me other than conversation and unabashed honesty. It helped, in some small way, to feel as if I were a part of something bigger than just myself. To feel included, even if I didn’t want to be. Oliver had warned me about this group of friends. The Six, they called themselves. But they were so much more than that. Anyone with eyes could see it.