Chapter Seventeen

Riley Lynn (P.O.V.)

 I stumbled my way into my bedroom and almost gasped. My bed was torn to shreds; my pillows were in pieces. My closet was practically empty.

"Who steals shitty clothes?" I yelled into the destroyed room, kicking at one of the pillows strewn on the ground. 

I could not believe it. I should have known those hobos were up to something. I should not have let them stay as long as I had. I should have done something about them in the very beginning. This was what I got for my kindness? 

Vincent appeared in my bedroom doorway, frowning deeply.

"The police are on their way. You should take some pictures." Vincent instructed.

"I get it," I muttered. 

"Excuse me?" Vincent said a little confused, but I was too caught up in my own thoughts to care at the moment.

"I totally get homeless people wanting things," I ground out, "but did they have to steal from someone who barely has anything? I mean come on! Just ask for some hand-me-downs! Do not wreck my entire place! What the hell. What the hell?"

I ran my hands through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. I was so dumb. I should have foreseen this. 

"You should make a list of what is missing," Vincent suggested, folding his arms over his chest. 

I rubbed my forehead.

"There is no point in doing that. I did not have anything worth much, anyway."

The only thing that even meant something to me was the blanket, but I knew there was no chance of seeing that again. Whoever stole it probably just thought it was something that could keep them warm. Never mind any sentimental value. Though, couldn't they have just stolen my comforter? Surely that was better than a battered old fNathanielce throw! 

I bit my lip hard when I felt my eyes starting to water. I was not going to cry over this. Especially not in front of Vincent. 

"Surely you can get some money from insurance," he argued. 

"Who in their right mind would pay for insurance for a crappy place like this?" I countered.

And even if I did have renters insurance, I am certain that I would only get like twenty bucks. It looked like Vincent wanted to say something back, but he held his tongue. Instead, he just pursed his lips. I was not trying to be snippy with him, but the whole situation was irritating and embarrassing me.

The fact that I got robbed.

The fact that Vincent was around when it happened.

The fact that he was seeing this already shitty apartment in an even worse state. 

Sirens cut the silence that settled in, and I sighed. I really did not want to deal with cops.

"You should go," I said to Vincent. He looked at me surprised.

"What?" 

"Go home. I will handle it from here. As soon as the cops leave, I have to start cleaning anyway." 

"They will want to do a report. I can go to the station with you." 

"You can do those online these days," I said, heading out of my room and back into the living room, careful not to disrupt any of the evidence.

"If I even make a report."

Vincent seemed flabbergasted.

"You have to make a report. You were robbed, Riley." 

I rounded on him, fingers twitching.

"Listen, Vincent. Me being robbed is a lot different than you getting robbed. Your belongings are probably worth over a million dollars. Mine aren't even worth one hundred. It is not a big deal. Please just go home." 

"You cannot stay here alone. What if they come back?" 

If they came back? They already took what they wanted. I doubt they would come back. Unless they told their friends about how easy it was to get in here and that the locks were broken... 

Just then I heard banging on the front door to the building and as I moved to answer it, I almost slipped on some paper on the ground. Frustrated, I kicked a few things out of the way and groaned. It was such a mess. I would not even be able to sNathanielpin my bed. There was basically nothing left to it. There was basically nothing left to the whole place. Not like there was much to begin with anyway. 

"Riley," Vincent started. 

I could feel my eyes beginning to burn.

No, Riley.

Not in front of Vincent. The cops are here.

"Vincent, just leave. Please. Interfering in my personal life is not part of our contract, so you can go." 

"Fine," he responded quietly after a moment.

I did not turn around to see his expression and he did not say anything more. My gaze stayed on the floor as he moved around the mess and then I watched his back as he exited through the front door. He greeted the police and explained that I was the renter of the apartment and then he left with one of the cops.

I swallowed nervously as the other female officer approaching me. After what happened with my brother, I still felt anxious whenever police officers were around. Even though I knew I never did anything wrong. 

After explaining what I came home to and describing what the hobos looked like, I told her that I would file a report online to finish up. She told me not to stay in the apartment tonight and to call if anything happened or if I had any questions.

I nodded; glad to keep the conversation short. Chances were, I was not going to make a report because there was no point since I did not have insurance, but I kept that to myself. I did not want to tell her flat out that I was wasting her time. 

Once the front door was shut, I heaved a heavy sigh, staring dismally at the mess before me. I did not even know where to start.

The living room?

What was left of my bedroom?

Did I even want to go through what ratty clothes were left?

 It seemed that they were mostly interested in my clothing. I could only imagine what Vincent would say about my wardrobe- 

My eyes widened and I walked back into my bedroom with my heart in my throat. I scanned the articles of clothing scattered all over to the floor, tensing when I could not spot the right thing. Moving forward, I ripped the closet doors open all the way, coming face to face with the barren inside. There were a few stretched out shirts still on hangers, but that was all. The thousand-dollar dress Vincent had bought me was missing.

With shaking hands, I kneeled down to check the shoeboxes on the floor, only to find them empty as well. They even stole the heels that I could have barely walked in. 

I crouched down, suddenly losing the power to hold myself up. Of course, they would take the dress. It was the only nice article of clothing that I owned. Why did I even expect them to leave it? They did not know it had any sentimental value. They did not know how good I looked in it and for once I actually felt that way. 

I have to tell Vincent. He was the one that bought it and technically it was his. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

He answered right away.

"Riley? What is wrong?" 

"Um," I started, hating how my voice was shaking.

"The dress you bought me is gone. They stole it." 

"The one from the other night?" 

"Yeah. I am really sorry. I know it was a lot of money," I said, staring at the empty shoebox.

"The heels are gone too." 

Vincent took a sharp breath of air and I prepared myself to be berated.

"I am really sorry!" I said quickly, feeling horribly embarrassed.

Tears were starting to form again.

"I will pay you back for them. I really liked them. I really wanted another chance to wear the dress. I am really sorry you had to waste your money. I am really sorry my shitty luck caused you to lose money-" 

"Riley," Vincent interjected when I paused to take a breath.

"Calm down." I shut up because a few tears rolled down my face and I knew if I spoke at this point my voice would crack.

"Do not worry about the dress. That much money does not- no, I mean, I do not want you to pay me back for it," he told me, his voice low and serious.

"R-Really?" I asked, my voice indeed cracking as I spoke.

"Yes, really. That is the last thing you should be worrying about right now. I do not think you should stay in your apartment tonight." 

"I do not have anywhere else to go," I whispered, brushing the tears off my face.

It was already late- I did not want to bother Tamia. 

There was a moment of silence and then Vincent said, "Come to my place." 

"What?" I responded dumbly. 

"You can stay at my house. It is not good for your psychological wellbeing to stay in your apartment after you have been robbed," he told me, and I could hear the nerves in his voice.

Then I heard what sounded like a car door closing and I figured he'd just arrived home. 

"You do not like people at your house," I pointed out. 

"How can I leave you alone as things are?" he returned. 

I rubbed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"You know what, I am okay. Sorry I freaked out a bit right there. I guess the shock finally got to me or something. You just got home. Do not worry about me." 

"I never left," a voice said from behind me, and I gasped in shock, pushing myself to my feet and turning to see Vincent at my bedroom door, his phone still up to his ear. 

I froze, mortified at being caught crying, and mortified that he was in the room with me after I had a slight breakdown.

"H-how did you get back in?" 

He pulled his phone away from his face, frowning deeply.

"The lock is broken, remember? Your door does not shut completely. Another reason you should not stay here. If there is anything valuable still left, grab it." 

"I do not need to go to your house, I am fine," I insisted, wiping around my eyes in case my makeup was smudged. 

"I know it might not be in our contract, but I am not doing this because of our work relationship," he shot back at me. 

I stared at him, surprised.

Did my earlier comment offend him? Maybe I was a little harsh. Well, not maybe. It was really harsh. Especially to a guy who apparently had waited outside my apartment building because he did not want to leave me alone.

"Are you sure?" I finally asked. 

He folded his arms over his chest.

"Hurry up and gather your things. I will wait by the door." 

I followed right after him because there was nothing left that I cared too much about. I hated thinking of the money I have to spend to replace all of my clothes, but thanks to Vincent's payment it would not be a problem. I really only cared about the outfit he bought me and my father's blanket- everything else could be replaced. 

"What should I do about my car?" I asked him. 

He hesitated for a second before answering.

"You can bring it to my house." 

"But what about your mom? You said she would figure everything out." 

"Do not worry about it," he said, hunching his shoulders. 

I bit my lip.

Vincent was being so adamant about not bringing my car over earlier. Was he saying it was okay now because he felt too bad to say no?

"Why Do you not follow me to the coffee shop, to drop my car off there. Then you can just bring me back to it." 

"You are still going to work tomorrow?" he asked, rounding on me.

"You should take a sick day. I am sure they would understand." 

"I do not think..." I started before Vincent interjected.

"Riley," he said so disapprovingly that I felt it weigh on my shoulders. 

"I will text my boss," I responded, pulling out my phone.

It was probably for the best. Tomorrow I have to come back and clean up and deal with the landlord. Hopefully, the police had gotten in contact with her already. 

Half an hour later, Vincent and I were in his car again, heading back to his house. I felt jittery in the passenger's seat. It was going to be weird staying at his place. Where would I SNathanielp? The couch? Was he expecting us to share a bed, was he really? What about in the morning? What time did he wake up? Would he get up before me? He was definitely going to see my just-woke-up-no-makeup look. 

When we arrived, we went straight in, and I stiffly followed after him.

"I am going to clean up first," he told me as we went downstairs.

I helped as best as I could, but he pretty much just shooed me away. So instead, I wandered back to the living room and stared out the window at the lake. Vincent joined me there a few moments later, his hands in his pocket.

"If the darkness makes you uncomfortable, I can shut the shades." 

"You can do whatever you want, I do not mind," I told him. 

"Well, I want you to feel comfortable," he mumbled. 

"But it is your place," I argued. 

He turned to me, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I am not so ignorant as to not know that you might be finding it strange to be staying at the house of a man you barely know." 

"You are making it more weird by saying that." 

"I have not had anyone stay over in a very long time. I am not sure what I should do," he confessed, looking apologetic. 

"Pretend I am not here!" I said immediately.

"I can occupy myself. I could read a book or something."

Vincent shook his head.

"That is not what I meant. Do not feel as though you are imposing on me. I am the one who offered." 

"But I know you do not like people over-" 

"I already told you, you are different," he said, cutting me off.

"Forget I said that. You are a comfortable person." 

I blinked.

"Oh, uh, thanks." 

He seemingly became embarrassed because he turned away from me and cleared his throat.

"You are welcome to take a bath if you would like. I have some stress soothing bath salts." 

Somehow that did not suit his image and I found myself smiling.

"Bath salts? Really?" 

"They do work," he responded, offended. 

"Are you telling me to take a bath just so you can accidentally walk in on me while I am naked?" I inquired. 

He turned back to me with his jaw dropped.

"Just how badly do you think of me? I am not a pervert!" 

I laughed and it felt nice.

"I am just kidding. A bath does not sound too bad actually. Thank you, Vincent." 

He cocked his head to the side, his green eyes piercing into me.

"For what?" 

"Letting me stay here. I am guessing that you are just as nervous as I am. I hate to intrude in your space, but I appreciate it," I answered, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. 

"It is the least I can do. I know you do not have money to stay at a hotel," he responded. 

I narrowed my eyes slightly but decided to let that one go. He could get away with it for just tonight.