I swallow hard, staring straight ahead. “She’s better off without me.”
He scoffs. “Then why do you look like someone just ripped your guts out?”
I grit my teeth, my fists clenching in my lap. “I didn’t think it would bother me.”
“Yeah, well, it clearly does. And for what it’s worth, I never thought she was in on it.”
My head spins. I don’t know why I kept fighting it. Maybe because it’s easier to think she’s just another liar. Easier to leave if I don’t let myself care. But that’s bullshit. I already care too much, and it’s tearing me apart.
Bridger gives me a sideways look. “You’re scared because you don’t want to feel anything. And she made you feel something.”
Wrong. She made me feel everything. I press my palm against my aching side, trying to focus on the pain instead of the mess in my head. “Fuck.”
Bridger raises an eyebrow. “You really think you could just walk away?”
I don’t answer. I know I fucked up. I know I shouldn’t have left her. I can’t just walk away from her, not now. Fuck. I’m a selfish prick.
Bridger smirks, like he knows I’ve already made up my mind. “You should have listened to me instead of your fucking triggers.”
“I get it,” I snap, slamming my fist against the dashboard. “I shouldn’t have left her. But I can’t just . . .” I trail off, my chest tightening. The truth hits me like a punch to the gut. I want her. Not just her body pressed against mine, not just her lips on mine. I want her safe. I want her to trust me. I want to be the man she thinks I am.
Bridger gives me a knowing smile. “I’ll just wait here until you get to the right answer.”
I exhale sharply, the pain in my side pulsing with every heartbeat. “I have to go back.”
Bridger starts the engine, pulling out onto the road. “No shit.”
I don’t say anything, just grip the door handle to keep from punching something else. I hate this feeling—this fear that I might have lost something good before I even had the chance to figure it out. I know I’m no good for her. I’m poison. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t let her go. “Drive faster,” I mutter, leaning back against the seat, forcing myself to breathe through the pain.
Bridger smirks. “Yeah. Yeah.”
As we speed back toward the motel, my mind races with all the things I should’ve said. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to make this right. But I’ll be damned if I let her think I’d abandon her. Fuck, I acted like I wasn’t any better than Vick.
We pull into the motel parking lot and Bridger kills the ignition. My heart’s pounding, and I don’t know if it’s from the pain in my side or the rush of finally being back. The room’s right there, door cracked open, but something feels off.
I shove the truck door open and step out, ignoring the pull in my side. Bridger follows, but I’m already crossing the cracked pavement. The door’s wide open now, and I see a maid inside, running a vacuum over the stained carpet.
I stop dead in my tracks. “Where is she?” I demand, louder than I mean to.
The maid looks up, startled. “Sorry, sir?”
“The woman who was in this room. Where is she?”
She blinks, still holding the vacuum hose. “This room’s been empty for a while. I started cleaning about an hour ago.”
I push past her, stepping into the room. The bed’s stripped, fresh sheets laid out, no sign of Marlowe, and the money I left is gone. This isn’t good. “Did you see her leave?” I snap.
The maid shakes her head, eyes wide. “No. I just came to clean. The key was in the door. Nobody’s been here.”
I turn back to Bridger, and he’s watching me with that look. The one that says I fucked up. Again.
“Did you leave a note?” he asks.
I grind my teeth. “No. Just some money.”
He shifts closer to me, mouth falling open. “How much money?”
“Five thousand on the nightstand,” I whisper.
