It’d be pretty hard to hide that I was staying on the same property as him. He would probably feel obligated to give me the guest room, and Iknowhe would not like that, especially after this weekend.
I don’t need him getting even more angry with me. He put those walls right back up after our little dry-humping adventure, and the last thing I need is a pity invite all because he made me come.
I’ll just have to stay at the local hotel—or more accurately, motel—until I can find something more permanent. It’ll be a couple nights tops. At least until Rose is healed. It’s fine. I spend all day with Delilah anyway, it’ll be just a place to sleep.
I drive across town and pull into a parking spot in front of The Canyon Creek Motel. This is one of those small towns where every establishment is named after the location it’s in. God forbid we forget the name of the town. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, and force myself to take a few steadying breaths. It could be worse. Be grateful for what you have, Ivy.
I climb out of my car and look up at the flickering neon sign flashingvacancyat me like a taunt. The crickets chirp, and the warm night breeze brushes past me like a wave of encouragement. I can do this. I’ve been through worse.
Squaring my shoulders I open the door to what looks like the front office. A bell chimes above my head, alerting the elderly gentleman at the large desk that takes up the majority of the very dated room.
“Hey darlin’, what can I do for you?” he asks.
“Hi. I need a room. Please,” I reply. My voice is shaky. I feel jittery, and a little panicked.
He seems to notice, and softens his features. “Sure thing, honey. Not a problem. For how long?”
“I don’t know. Like, maybe a long time. Maybe a couple weeks, or a month? Maybe just tonight. Can I pay by the week? I don't really have a plan,” I stammer.
I’m rambling, but I genuinely don’t know what to tell him. I just need keys to a room so I can curl up on a bed and spiral.
“Alright, don’t worry. That’s fine. We’ll start with paying by the week. You just let me know if anything changes.”
That works. It’ll be fine. I’ll start looking for places online tonight.
I sign a couple of papers, then he takes a copy of my license and debit card, and hands me the key to the room. Fingers crossed the room is decent.
I take the stairs to the second floor, and walk along the short walkway until I find room twelve. Sliding the key into the lock, I swing the heavy wooden door open and flick the light on—I grimace.
It’s not horrible, but it’s definitely not good. It smells like cigarettes and air freshener that was sprayed to cover the smell of the cigarettes.The room is covered in yellowing floral wallpaper, and I’m wondering if years of smoke is what turned the color.
There's one full-sized bed, one arm chair, one bedside table, and one lamp. I peek my head into the bathroom. Aged, baby blue tile covers the entire space. There’s a toilet, a tiny sink, and a small shower stall.
I place my duffel bag on the hideous brown duvet, and stare at it. My initials on the handle stares back at me, reminding me of theverydifferent hotel I was in just this morning. My eyes start to water, and I’m unable to stop the tear from rolling down my cheek. The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and I feel a come-down happening.
I can’t tell Rose. I can’t tell Sophie. I definitely can’t tell Wes. Well, Ican, but all of those options have consequences I'm not ready to face. I can’t help but feel that all too familiar pang of loneliness I struggled with for so many years. I know it’ll eventually be okay, and I know I’ll survive, but the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness is beginning to consume me.
The tears start to flow, and all I can think is that I want my mom. I miss her. I miss my dad. They would know what to do. I’m almost thirty-years-old, and I’m staying in a motel, with nowhere else to go.
I crawl onto the bed, and tuck my legs into my chest, letting the tears flow freely. I just need to get it out, then I’ll be able to take the bull by the horns, and find a solution.
I stay in the same spot until my eyes get heavy, but at some point I lift my head and look at the clock on the nightstand. It’s late. I look around for my phone and I find a message notification waiting for me. Hope blooms in my chest, and a stupid part of me hopes it’s Wesley. Maybe I could tell him. Maybe telling him and getting a pity room would be better than this feeling that has me in a chokehold.
When I swipe to read the text, my heart sinks.
Chase:Hey! Maverick told me you got back into town today. Drinks when you’re free?
I groan inwardly, and swipe away the message. I don’t have the brain power to respond to that message right now.
I still have enough battery left to depend on my alarm in the morning, so I kick the comforter down, and slip under the sheet, pulling it up over my head to hide from the light I’m too tired to get up and turn off. The tears start again, only stopping when I finally drift off to sleep.
17
Wes
“Dude what’s up with you today?” Leo asks me from his station at the shop.
I wipe at the arm I’m tattooing, and look back over my shoulder. “What?”
