“That I think I love you.”
Her lips formed the word “oh”, but it actually didn’t come out. I braced myself for the denial, the phrase,thanks but I don’t love you,or Jade telling me to piss off again. I knew I shouldn’t have said it, even if I felt it. My male ego didn’t handle rejection well.
Her fingers squeezed mine. Jade offered me a tiny smile. I blinked.
“Good.”
Her whispered word floated across the short space to me, making me wonder what she meant. Good luck? Good riddance? Good night? What did shenotsay?
“Good? Good what? Jade?”
“Just good.”
Her eyes closed. Withdrawing her hand from mine, she tucked it under her chin and drifted to sleep. Brief glances at her neck gave me the idea her gashes had ceased to leak, but that didn’t bring me much comfort.What the hell did she mean?
***
The blue sky clouded over, and snow fell lightly as I drove into the tiny community nestled high in the mountains. Tourist shops, coffee houses, bed and breakfasts lined the main drag as I drove slowly down it. Cars were parked at angles, folks still walked along the sidewalks. I suspected the tourist season wasn’t quite over as I saw many out of state plates on vehicles.
A blinking sign advertisedvacancyabove a motel sign. As I drove in, I noticed that it wasn’t the rundown, rat-turd and roach infested place I’d anticipated. Similar to a mountain lodge, it appeared clean, prosperous, and well-maintained. I parked near the entrance but didn’t shut the engine off.
“Jade,” I murmured. “I need cash to get us a room. Where is it?”
Her hand gestured toward the back seat. “My pack. In my purse.”
Fetching it, I dug out a wad of twenties and fifties, and put the rest back. “Listen, I’m gonna get us a room. You can’t be seen, honey. It’s nearly dark anyway. Just sit tight. Okay?”
“I’m okay.” She smiled slightly, her bloody hand lifting to pat my cheek. “Do what you gotta do.”
Taking her hand, I kissed it, then left the Jeep. At this elevation, the cold bit deep as I crossed the parking lot. I huddled in my jacket, the light snow flicking across my cheeks, flakes landing on my lashes. Inside the lobby, the warmth struck me like a freight train. A big fire burned on a hearth opposite the front desk.
“Help you?”
An older, balding man in a checked flannel shirt beckoned me over. Blowing on my hands, I offered him a polite nod. “I hope so. Do you have a room?”
“Sure do. Lots. Most of the out-of-towners have gone, home probably. Florida. California. Someplace that don’t snow much.”
I pulled out the wad of cash. “I don’t have a credit card. Is this okay?”
“Sure is,” he said with a grin. “Cash is better than plastic anyway. Just you?”
“No, me and my girlfriend. She’s in the car, sleeping.”
“No problem atall.”
He pulled out a form, scribbled on it, then asked me for my name, year, make and model of my vehicle. “Just so we don’t tow it by accident.”
While I gave him a fake name, I felt forced to give an accurate description of our vehicle. After I scribbled a signature that couldn’t be read, I gave him the form back.
“How much?”
“How long you planning to stay?”
“I don’t really know.”
“There’s a storm moving in, son,” he said, his smile gone. “I hear it’s supposed to be bad. The roads will likely be closeduntil the plows come through. I’m not saying that to keep you, I’m warning you is all. You may not make it out tomorrow.”
That news pleased me to no end.Good luck getting through the storm to find us, Arnaud.“Let’s plan on three days then,” I told him.
