Did he trick us? Does he do this often? She said he stays here all the time. Is this his thing?
Fuck!
The door opens and two people with large backpacks attempt to squeeze their way through the door. I immediately step forward, exposing myself to Sally and she immediately recognizes me.
“Hey,” I say, awkwardly.
“Hi, welcome back.” Her eyes peer to the door and when the other two people that aren’t Hannah and Dane come into view, she looks back at me and says, “aren’t you missing that beautiful girl of yours?”
I smile, with a half chuckle, mostly from feeling awkward.
“Yeah, but I—I left my wallet in the safe. Can I check it?”
“Of course, run up there and check. We haven’t rented out your bed or locker so nothing has been touched,” she replies, kindly.
“Thanks,” I say as I quickly turn around. My feet shuffle over each other, the rubber soles of my sneakers squeaking on the tile floor. I make my way up the stairs into the room andstride straight for my locker. Entering the code I programmed the first night, it beeps open and there’s my wallet.
I breathe a sigh of relief knowing I have it back and shut the door.
I take a step back and pause, glancing around the room. Now it’s full of other people's stuff and I realize how stupid I was to think this room would have been empty for days on end. Hostels are never fucking vacant like that.
He tricked us. He knew how long we were staying and renting it out so he could force himself into our world. Taking us to that fucking expensive dinner, showing us all around Paris.
He should just rent a bed for half the year, he’s here that often anyway.
I feel like a fucking idiot. This is what he does. Stays in hostels, finding a guy or a girl or a couple that he likes then just goes after them. None of this meant anything for him except for a way to seduce us. He knew I was fucking vulnerable after that first night. He knew everything from the fucking beginning.
Fuck. Fuck!
This is going to kill Hannah.
I make my way down the stairs. I’m grateful Sally is helping the two backpackers at her desk. I hold up my wallet, thanking her with a quick tip of my chin as I beeline for the front door trying to avoid any eye contact.
I’m through the threshold and around the corner, running a faster pace back to the hotel. I never changed our flight earlier and I’m so fucking grateful for that. The sooner we leave, the better.
25
HANNAH
Iscrunch up my face and thickly swallow the rest of my tiny espresso, or shall I sayNespresso.
I’ve never had this version of hotel coffee before but it’s an extreme contrast from the grainy, yet sour and watered down coffee from the hostels.
This though, this is like getting punched in the face with a coffee bean on steroids.
Placing the cup and saucer down, I pad my way back to the room. My eye catches back onto the note they both wrote to me.
It’s silly, I know. But the amount of joy I feel that both of them wrote me a note makes me feel like a giddy teenager.
I’m more in love with Ethan than ever and Dane brings out so much fun in both of us.
Over the last four days I’ve seen more of the old Ethan—the Ethan before the accident—than ever, and that puts a smile on my face.
All the time I spent in physical therapy he spent berating himself. He was healing too, but mine was so much more severethat it took a lot longer for me to recover. He’s gotten better over the years as our life has returned to normal, but since he’ll never play baseball and I’ll never talk again, there’s always something I think he feels is missing in both of our lives.
His childhood love was baseball. It’s been a lifelong obsession and he was destined for the MLB. Now, he never even watches it on TV.
I miss it sometimes, hearing the announcers, seeing the players and watching the excitement of the game. I used to love watching him play and fell in love with the game but anytime I put it on now he finds a reason to do something else and ignores the television.
