I blink up at the ceiling, feeling the numbness pour into my bones where the floating feeling just was. Consuming me whole. Like I’m crashing and burning after riding my high for the past few minutes.
“My mom is dying,” I whisper into the quiet of the room.
Maeve stirs softly, cuddling up to me even more as she drapes an arm over my waist, squeezing me tight. “I know.”
Something that I thought would make me feel better, would answer all of my questions, would resolve me somehow, doesn’t make me feel better at all. For some reason that doesn’t make sense to me, it hurts worse than anything I’ve ever felt before.
I soak in that hurt all night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAEVE
Monday, December 27th
Tate tossed and turned all night long.
I felt bad for dozing off every now and then, only to be woken up by the bed jostling slightly from his weight as he twisted around. Back and forth. Blanket off, blanket on. Flipping the pillow overfivedifferent times. Eventually, I had to wrap my arms around his from behind, squeezing him tightly until I felt his breathing settle, and I fell asleep once more.
After four orgasms, I thought for sure that would help settle his restless, anxious mind, but not even that could help.
Four fucking orgasms.
He was eating out of the palm of my hand for two hours, coming so many times that it was makingmetired. I don’t know how he was still going; all I know is it was hot. The fact that it was me making him feel like that stirred up a beast that had been sleeping in my core for so long, I don’t know if it had ever even been fully awake.
My cheeks lift at the memory as I drop my head to the side, peering over at Tate’s finally sleeping figure. His back rises and falls gently, his face pressed into the soft pillow. His hair is adisheveled mess, strewn around the white pillowcase, and his full lips are parted with his faint snores. He looks so peaceful, and I don’t have the heart to wake him after the night he had. So, instead, I carefully roll out of the bed, meticulous with every movement so he doesn’t stir, before heading to the bathroom to quietly get ready.
I’m so determined for him to get his rest that I don’t even flush the toilet after peeing, making a mental note to do it as he gets up and before he goes to the bathroom.
I know we’re supposed to be on our way to Albuquerque today, but something about that doesn’t sit right in my stomach. He’s clearly torn up about the news from his mother, and he should have the space and time to deal with this properly. He can’t do that if he’s driving all the way back to Pennsylvania and starting classes again.
I need to do something.Help.
There aren’t many options for resolving his problem, but the least I can do is help lighten the load he has on his plate right now. To help him process this the way he needs to.
So after I brush my teeth, get dressed, and fix my face, I sneak out of the hotel room, closing the door slowly behind me, and go down to the lobby to make a few phone calls to Cedar Grove. They’ll have to be able to give me something.
Finding an empty little table in the quiet lobby, far enough away from the front desk for some privacy, I make my call.
But I’m so caught up in everything that I forget the university offices are closed for the holidays, so I’m greeted with a voicemail message instead. I’m barely able to focus on the automated voice on the other end as I’m thinking of what to say, how to word it without rambling, when the small beep finally sounds.
“Hi,” I say, sitting up straighter and swallowing thickly before continuing, “I’m calling to double-check the absencepolicy when it comes to family emergencies, and what paperwork I might need to have in case I miss too many days of classes at the beginning of this next semester. If you could give me a call back at your earliest convenience. Thank you.”
My face contorts into a grimace as I hang up. Did that cover everything? Surely, it didn’t. I must have missed something. I should have rehearsed before calling or written it down.
The thought gnaws at me for the next few minutes as I sit at the table, my knee bouncing impatiently as I bite at the tip of my thumb. There’s no way they’re calling me back, not today, probably not until classes are back in session. This dumb break.
But Ineedinformation. Before we drive even further away from Seattle, further away from Tatum getting the closure he needs. Starting whatever healing process he needs to. I can’t let that happen. I can’t just let him get all the way back to Pennsylvania without fixing this, somehow. Without getting the ending he deserves with his mom. Closing the book.
I don’t know what kind of ending that may be, but he deserves to see it through.
The not knowing is eating me alive, and I refuse to go back up to that room without some sort of solution, so I pick up my phone once more and go to the university’s website. There should be a list of policies available, or a file I can download to review.
About three minutes later, I finally find one.
Serious illness, hospitalization, death or illness of a family member, or crisis situation…
Four consecutive days or more…
