“Got it.”
He leans over the bed one final time and presses a kiss to the top of my head before rushing out the door. When the lock clicks into place behind him, the room becomes eerily quiet and cold. I glance around the space, the slick lines of the modern furniture and dark gray walls adding to the chill.
I sigh and drag myself out of the warm bed, padding across the floor into the bathroom. I turn the hot water up as high as it will go, filling the room with steam while I strip, then open the airline app on my phone to get my boarding pass. It’s a shitty position to match the crummy seat I purchased, but when you make impulsive decisions, I guess you have to resolve yourself to middle seats near the bathroom.
I take my time in the shower, turning my skin a hot pink as my fingers prune. I finally peel myself away from the steam-filled glass retreat and twist my hair into a clip atop my head. I wrap a dry towel around my body and tiptoe into the bedroom,only to run directly into a very beautiful, very tall brunette wearing tight black pants and a Mavericks jersey tied into a crop top, accentuating her incredibly ample breasts.
“What the fuck!” I shout and clutch my chest as she does the same, both of us backing up several steps. I lean against the dresser while she moves toward the door.
“I’m so sorry. I must be in the wrong room.” Her eyes are wild, searching for who knows what. This is starting to feel like a room invasion, and I form a fist with my right hand in case I need to take a swing at this lady.
“I’m certain you are,” I say, steadying myself on my feet. I sure wish I wasn’t naked. I’m scrappy when I need to be, but I’m pretty sure it helps to be clothed.
“I was looking for Hunter Reddick,” she says, and it takes my body a few seconds to catch up with her words. I halt mid-step toward the bathroom and my phone when it sinks in.
“I’m sorry. Hunter?” I shake my head, like I’m trying to erase everything it knows.
“Yeah. I wanted to surprise him.” One of her shoulders hikes up as she sucks in her bottom lip, and there’s a quiet that settles in between us as we stare at one another. I’m arranging the new facts with everything I know about ballplayers, and I have a feeling this woman is doing the same.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I tilt my head, still skeptical about her being here for legitimate reasons, though less so than I was a moment before.
“I’m Sloane. Maxwell?” She adds the last name as if that will clear things up for me. She speaks with a confident tone, as though it should.
“And you are?” She folds her arms over her chest, which makes my chest warm, and I find myself again wanting to throw a punch at her.
“I’m not telling you my name. But I was invited to be here, so . . .” I glance toward the door, but Sloane simply scoffs and moves toward the foot of the bed, where she promptly takes a seat, making herselfwaytoo comfortable.
“I was invited, too.” She shakes her head and an incredulous laugh spills through her maroon-tinted lips.
She pulls a phone from the small cross-body purse she’s wearing. I gawk at her like a fool as she slides her finger around her screen, finally opening the same ticket app I have and holding up a ticket that looks pretty much just like mine. I step forward and squint to read the date, and when I see it’s today’s game, I feel as though I just swallowed a boiling hot bowling ball.
“Huh.” My stomach boils, caught between sickness and the tightening sensation my muscles undergo before I’m about to work out hard.
“Yeahhh,” Sloane says, clicking her screen off and dropping her hands and her gaze to her lap.
“I feel pretty stupid,” I admit.
“That makes two of us.” She shakes her head with breathy laughter, the sad kind tinged with disappointment in humankind.
She pops her gaze up to me, her lips puckered into a resolute twist, and she gets to her feet.
“I’m gonna go.”
I open my mouth but snap it shut when I realize there are too many things I want to say, yet at the same time don’t have it in me to utter any of them. When the door snaps shut for a second time this morning, I drop my towel and slip back into my own clothes before checking my phone app to put myself on standby for the early flight. Turns out, I’m ready to go, too.
I shove the few belongings I brought with me into my bag and give the rumpled sheets one more glance before marching to the door. My hand grips the handle, but before I can getmyself to push it down and set myself free, I’m hit with a wave of emotion, and a single sob rattles my chest and weakens my knees.
I can’t believe I did this. Any of it. I know better.
I’m mad at myself, but also, I feel guilty for leaving without a goodbye. How twisted is that? Hunter is the dog I thought he was from the beginning, yet here I am feeling bad about abandoning him before his game, for being a no-show, for ghosting.
I draw in a deep breath and shut my eyes for a beat, seeing my mother’s face when I do. I’m nothing like her, yet here I am, somehow feeling a lot like her. If I weren’t ashamed, I’d call Lindsey and get her advice. She’ll give it to me after the fact when I get home, assuming she even noticed I was gone. So far, I think the only person with an inkling I’m not in town is my boss. And that’s because I had to call in sick.
My eyes blink open as I let my head fall back and pivot, heading back into the room. I’m too responsible for this shit. A real woman wouldn’t leave a note. She’d just go, taking her dignity and pride with her. At the very least, though, I will leave my mark.
I pull a small pad of paper from the nightstand and snag the hotel pen from the tabletop, pulling the cap off with my teeth.
Sloane stopped by.
