It wasn't simple anymore.
When I returned to the room last night, Audrey had a small cylinder plugged in beside the bed—a white noise machine or something like that—and a pillow cleaving her side from mine. She'd been asleep, or doing an excellent job of faking it, and I couldn't believe how thoroughly I'd fucked this up.
I really didn't know how I thought this plan would come together for me. For months, I'd told myself all I had to do was find a way to get Audrey on board and everything else would fall into place. I dodged the technical details wherever I could. I dideverything in my power to avoid thinking about the reality of being with her again.
But the trouble with Audrey was that she changed me. It'd always been that way, right from the start. I hated it at first. Hated the way the back of my neck prickled and blood pumped harder in my veins and my chest seemed to open up, like I hadn't known what it meant to take a deep breath until she ignored the shit out of me in school. But also, I couldn't breathe at all when she was around. Couldn't think, couldn't function until I learned everything about her.
And when I knew her, she changed me a little more. She softened the pointless anger I'd clutched tight like a security blanket and smoothed my self-righteous rebellion into something useful. She allowed me all the contempt I wanted because she came armed with her own supply of it.
More than all of that, she gave me a sense of calm I'd never known before and never since. There were days when I didn't trust the memories to tell me the truth. How could I? The only other time I'd felt anything close to that calm was when I had a tooth pulled and the drugs hit me all at once.
But now, waking up in this nightmare of a motel room, I realized the memories barely did it justice.
We'd abandoned our mindful posts on the far edges of the bed and turned toward each other in the night, our heads bowed together on the pillow meant to separate us. There was a light, gentle scent to Audrey, different from what I'd remembered but I still recognized it as hers. I stared at the long braid draped over her shoulder and the way her lips pulled together in a pouting frown. She'd wrapped her hand around my forearm at some point, her fingers pressed to my pulse.
I'd been a fool, all those years ago, to think sex could ever be more important than waking up with her like this.
And I was still a fool because I thought I could pretend with this woman. That I wouldn't bend toward her every chance I got. That I wouldn't let her destroy me all over again.
I stared at her for another minute before prying myself from her grasp. We'd slept late and there were things to do. I had to check in with Woody to see about progress on the car, apologize to my mother another fifteen times, confirm that my son wasn't being left to wander the shores of Saginaw Bay on his own, and let my attorney bill me two hundred dollars for a five minute call.
The most important item on that list was getting out of the bed and into the shower while Audrey was still asleep. If she woke up to find us sharing a pillow, we'd be finished here. The fact we'd shared a bed was some kind of miracle, but if she realized she'd reached for me in the middle of the night, she'd shut right down. And I wouldn't blame her. It was fucking with my head too.
The shower was about as awful as I'd expected. Dark and oddly narrow, and the pipes made noises I didn't trust.
I'd been in there about ten minutes when the bathroom door banged open and Audrey said, "Jude, I need you." I blinked water from my eyes as she pulled back the curtain, a towel waiting in her grip. "Now. Please?"
Instinct took over as I turned off the water. "Anything, baby. What is it?"
She didn't glance away while I wrapped the towel around my waist and all the anatomy that sprang to life whenever she was around. That should've raised a red flag about what was to come, but saying she needed me overrode everything else.
She pointed to the door, her other hand looped around the tail of her braid. "There's a lizard on the curtains."
"Slow down, sweetheart, just—" As I brought a wet hand to her shoulder, I finally comprehended her words. "Did you saylizard?"
"Yes, a lizard and it's on the curtains in the room we slept in and I need you to get it. Now. Please."
"Shit."
"Yeah, basically."
I darted out of the bathroom, Audrey close behind me. The metal bed frame and leak-water barrel stood between us and the window. I stepped around the frame and focused on the heavy curtains. The fabric was gray, though I didn't think it'd started out that way. I could tell from here it was thick and textured.
"Up there," Audrey said from behind me, her fingertips barely pressed to the center of my back. "Near the rod. I heard something—like soft scratching—and then I saw the curtains move."
I spotted the creature then, and while it didn't help anything, I let out a snarled, "Holy fuck."
"Yeah, I know, don't remind me. I've already died several times," Audrey said.
It wasn't one of the little guys that sunbathed in my mom's backyard. It was probably a foot long and I was pretty sure it had horns. In this area, there was a solid chance it was poisonous too.
I didn't have a game plan here. I searched the room but the best I could come up with was ripping off this towel and catching the lizard in there, which was a terrible plan because it left me naked and holding a pissed-off, possibly poisonous reptile.
Then I caught sight of Audrey's scones. I pulled the lid off and dumped the remaining chunks and crumbs on the dresser. "When I tell you, open the door and get out of the way."
I stepped around the bed frame, the container and lid in hand, and kept an eye on the lizard as I went. When it seemed like I had the best angle possible, I took my shot. I felt the thunk of that big boy as he landed in the dish and then held the lid down like her life depended on it.
"Open," I yelled, striding toward the door.
