He nodded slowly, mechanically. “I-I hate this idea.”
“Just trust me, alright? I know how to handle Ronnie.” She wound her arms around his waist, pressed her face into his chest. “It’s gonna be fine.”
“Yeah,” said Jack, struggling to comprehend her words. “But isn’t there a reason you ran?”
“Sure,” said Carla, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Cowardice.”
“Was it really cowardice, though? You said he shoved you into a wall.”
“No,” she sighed. “Fine. I thought it was the safest and easiest way to get away from him. I figured he might chase me, but he’d give up eventually. Ronnie can take a hint. It’s direct conflict that he can’t stand.”
“Breaking up with him isn’t direct conflict?”
“I’m gonna be fine,” Carla said. “I promise I’ll call you if I need anything, OK? Just let me handle this. Don’t come around, and don’t call.”
Jack gave a curt nod. “Fine. I just—be careful. Please.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Carla caught his hand in hers, led him back to the couch. “Come on, just lay with me for a little while. I wanna relax.”
“Are you sure?”
“That I wanna relax? Yeah, I am.”
“No, I mean, are you sure you want to dump Ronnie?”
“Oh.” Her laugh rang out, bouncing off the walls and echoing down the hall. “That. Yeah. Yeah, I am. I told you, I’ve been done with him for a while now.”
“OK,” said Jack, still unsure. “OK.” It wasn’t his job to keep her safe. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her what to do. But worry and fear ate at him until he finally fell asleep with his face pressed into her shoulders, her hair tickling his cheeks.
When he woke, he was alone in the hotel, enveloped in anxiety and frozen with fear.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Boris looked terrible.Shadows darkened his eyes. There was a layer of grease in his hair that Jack didn’t remember from before. His movements were slow, uncoordinated.
Had he started drinking early?
But none of this was right. Boris was never visibly exhausted—not this early in the day. There was no way he’d had a rough night. No reason for any change.
Unless…
“What’s the date today?” asked Jack, hands curling into sweaty fists at his sides. Terror clawed its way up his throat like bile as Boris turned to the ledger.
“Tuesday the seventeenth,” he said, voice flat as a plateau.
Relief coursed through Jack, swift and carefree as floodwaters. “You feeling alright?”
Boris blinked at him, dark lashes fluttering against skin that had been tan only a few days ago. “Yeah, fine.” He looked Jack up and down and scowled. “Have you been here before? I swear I’ve seen you around.”
“Just got here last night,” said Jack, shrugging. Hope stung at his heart, but he quickly squashed it down. He’d already promised himself he wasn’t going to traumatize Boris again unless absolutely necessary. Admitting that they’d spent a lot oftime together lately would be confusingat best, and that was assuming Boris believed him.
Which he wouldn’t, because no sane person would.
“Huh,” said Boris. His gaze bored into Jack’s. “Guess I’m just tired.”
“Yeah,” said Jack sympathetically. “That must be it.”
