Clay reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. He put it in my hand. “Text Rachel and Daniel. Please.” I looked at him and nodded.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” I told him again before scrolling through my contacts until I found Rachel’s number.
I sent her a quick text telling her that I had left with Clay. That things had gotten bad with his family and he needed a little breather—a break. I asked her to tell my parents that I was sorry, but that I was okay and I would contact them soon. I knew she wouldn’t get the text for a while, since it was 2:30 in the morning. Just hitting the send button made me feel better, made my chest not feel as tight.
Clay pulled back onto the interstate after I put the phone away. “Thanks for making me do that,” I said.
Clay shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that. You do what you have to do, Maggie. I’ll support you the way you’ve always supported me. We’re in this forever,” he stated, with such certainty that I believed it—all of it.
I knew he loved me, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
We drove for another two and a half hours before we pulled off at a small town just over the North Carolina border. Clay had seen a sign for a Motel 6 off the highway. We were both exhausted and I desperately wanted a bed and a good eight hours of sleep.
Clay pulled into a darkened parking lot. The Vacancy sign was flickering, making it all look like something out of a cheesy horror movie. There was only one other car outside the motel.
“You sure know how to wine and dine a gal,” I teased as we got out of the car. I was happy to stretch my legs.
Clay smiled. “Next time, we’ll find something a little nicer. Promise.” I put my arms around his waist.
“It doesn’t matter, Clay. As long as we’re together.” He kissed me sweetly before we went into the lobby to get a room.
The guy behind the front desk seemed unfazed by the fact that two teenagers wanted a motel room at 5:00 in the morning. He never once made eye contact as Clay paid him in cash and collected the room key.
“There’s ice and vending machines outside,” the front-desk guy said mechanically. We nodded our thanks and walked out of the dingy lobby.
We found our room and I tried not to shudder as I took in the shabby stained carpet that might have been green when it was new. There was one queen-sized bed with a comforter that had obvious cigarette burns all over it and two flat pillows.
Clay put his bag down on a chair that looked as if it had been rescued from a Dumpster. “Sorry, baby. I know this ain’t the Ritz.”
I smiled. “I’ll just keep my clothes on; it’ll be all good.”
Clay pouted. “Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind.”
I playfully shoved him. “You are such a guy, Clayton Reed.”
He kissed me loudly and patted my behind as I went into the bathroom to wash up. I was relieved that it was actually clean. The tub was stained but there were towels and a small, half-full bottle of Suave shampoo. I rummaged through my bag to find my flannel pj’s. Yeah, they weren’t the sexiest thing I owned, but I hoped wearing them might make me feel better.
I ran the water as hot as I could stand and stood under the spray. I used the shampoo to wash my hair and body. When I got out, skin pink from the steamy water, I felt a little better. I then remembered that in my hurry to leave, I hadn’t brought any toiletries. No hairbrush, no toothpaste. For some reason, after everything, that tiny detail made me want to burst into tears.
I gripped the edge of the sink and took deep, gulping breaths, trying to get myself together. After a few minutes I was able to calm myself down. Using my fingers, I combed through my wet hair and then rinsed my mouth with water. I put on my warm pajamas and left the bathroom.
Clay was leaning back against the headboard, flipping through channels on the ancient television. He looked up when I came out and his eyes softened at the sight of me ready for bed.
“Feel better?” he asked, watching me as I put my clothes in the corner of the room.
“Yeah. But we’ll need to get toothpaste and stuff in the morning. I forgot to bring some.” I went to stand by the side of the bed, not sure I wanted to sleep underneath the gross-looking comforter. Clay, understanding my hesitation, peeled the cover back.
“The sheets look clean, at least,” he remarked.
“We’re not going to get eaten alive by bedbugs, are we?” I asked hesitantly before getting into the bed.
Clay looked under the covers. “Well, I sure hope not.”
I threw a pillow at him. “That’s not comforting,” I said blandly.
Clay grinned at me. “Come on, get in here, this room is freezing.” I climbed into the bed, sighing in contentment as I snuggled down between the sheets. At that moment, I didn’t care if I was eaten alive as I slept, I was that bone-achingly tired.
Clay turned off the television and stood up. He slowly undressed, his clothes forming a pile beside the bed. In nothing but his boxers, he got into the bed beside me. We lay on our sides for a while, just looking at each other.
