Page 84 of Ravage

He paused, no doubt because he knew I was right. “You could stay at Jax’s.”

“The clubhouse will be safer.”

For a second, I considered telling him everything. Cole and what happened between us, and the way my entire world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

“You don’t have to worry, Adan. I’ll be okay.”

He was quiet, then he sighed. “You’re stubborn as hell.”

“I learned it from you.”

“You’re on a whole other level than me, sis.”

“Maybe so, but I’m right. That’s what matters.” Before he could argue, I told him, “I appreciate you calling to check on me, but I’ve gotta go. I have to finish packing, and I’ve got a ton of things to finish up downstairs.”

“Okay, but I expect to hear from you tomorrow.”

“You’ve got it.”

“Love ya, sis.”

“Love you, too.”

I ended the call and tossed my phone on the bed. I gathered all my things, and after I locked the door, I headed downstairs. I dropped everything by the front door and got to work on the studio. I moved the tables back to the spots I had them before, straightened the shelves like I’d always had them, and made sure all my files were still in order. Thankfully, they all seemed to be right where I’d left them. I took a moment to look around the room and smiled when I saw that it was starting to look more like mine again.

I was about to start calling clients when the front door opened. I looked up and found Poppy standing next to my bags. Her tiny pink backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and like always, her hair was pulled back in pigtails. Her brows were perched with surprise as she looked at me and then around the room.

“Poppy?” I stood and started toward her. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my day.”

“I know. And I’m sorry. I left a message with Clara, but I guess she didn’t get it.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No. Why would you ask that?”

“Because those two men outside look mad.”

I laughed as I told her, “No, they’re just here to help me.”

“Are they?”

“I think so.”

She nodded like she’d thought she’d received a satisfactory answer and stepped farther into the room. She dropped her backpack and looked around the room with furrowed brows. “You moved things.”

“I did.”

“Where’s my turtle?”

“It was broken.”

“How?”

I saw no point in lying to her, so I said, “Someone broke into the studio last night, and they broke several things.”

“Why would they do that?”