Six weeks later, Jake took his time to maneuver the rented moving truck into Hunter's driveway, moving at a snail's pace as he inched backward. Leaves crunched under the tires as he edged up the paved lane, lightly tapping the gas pedal.
Hunter stayed in his side mirror, waving him back with constant glances over his shoulder to check the distance to the open garage door.
He threw up a hand and whistled, the signal to stop.
Jake put the truck in park, killed the ignition, and hopped out into a stack of leaves almost up to his ankles.
"Damned neighbor's tree," Hunter explained as Jake walked to the back of the rental. "He gets all the shade during the summer, and we get all the leaves when they drop in the fall."
Jake yanked at the sliding door and it flew up, exposing the cardboard bo
