I promised I would help her. I don’t think she understands just how far I’ll go to do that.
I don’t think I understand it either.
Suddenly, Naomi jolts upright beside me. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts, her eyes wild as they dart around the unfamiliar room. I can practically hear her heart hammering in her chest.
I react with practiced nonchalance, as if I haven't been watching her sleep like some lovestruck horndog. I shift my weight casually, making the bed creak just enough to draw her attention.
"Hey, you’re okay." I keep my voice low, steady, and place my hand on her shoulder.
She turns toward me, recognition slowly replacing the panic in her eyes.
"I..." She swallows hard. "Where are we?"
I hold out a hand, not touching her but offering the gesture. "It's okay. Motel, remember? You’re safe."
Her shoulders relax incrementally as reality settles back in. She runs a hand through her tangled hair, pushing it away from her face.
"What time is it?" she asks, voice still rough with sleep.
I glance toward the window where a faint grayish light begins to seep around the edges of the curtains. "Sun's threatening to take a peek, but not quite yet."
She nods, drawing her knees up to her chest under the thin blanket. The vulnerability in the gesture makes something twist inside me.
"I'm going to get some coffee," I say, swinging my legs over the side ofthe bed. "You want some?"
She shakes her head. “Not yet.” A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "But I'll let you have some.”
I reach for my cowboy hat and set it on my head with exaggerated formality. I tip the brim toward her, playing along. "Mighty kind, ma'am."
Her smile widens before it falters. “I’m sorry about last night.” She can’t look at me now.
“Ain’t nothing to be sorry for.”
She shakes her head slowly, her look far away. “I know I questioned whether I could trust you. But I do.” I nod, not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything. She looks up at me. “But I never said thank you.”
I shake my head. “You did.”
Her eyes are open and earnest, and if I’m not careful, I’ll fall into them and never resurface again. “No. Not just for saving me. I said no one believed me. No one would listen. But you did. And you do. Thank you.” Her eyes lock on mine, intense, pure. Open. Yeah, I could happily drown in them.
My throat works, but I can tell my voice won’t. I simply give her a half grin and tip my hat to her. She smiles and lies back down.
I leave quietly, feeling steadier as soon as the cool morning air hits. It’s too quiet and too raw in there. My trip to the main office feels like a tactical retreat instead of just a simple coffee run.
She was just thanking me for helping her. Nothing more. All the wrong feelings are on my side of the ledger, not hers.
The office is dark when I approach, a handwritten sign in the window stating “Be right back." I try the door anyway and find it unlocked. The front desk is not staffed, as expected. I head straight for the coffee station in the corner. The pot sits empty, the machine cold.
Screw it. I'm not waiting. If I’m going to figure out our next move—if I’m going to gain control over myself and all thefeelings swirling around that small motel room and inside this broken heart—I’m going to need caffeine.
I locate the coffee grounds in a cabinet beneath, measure them into the filter, and fill the reservoir with water. As I reach to switch the machine on, headlights sweep across the window, illuminating the small office in harsh white light.
A county sheriff's vehicle pulls into the lot and parks near the office. Just a morning patrol, or are they looking for something more? My pulse doesn't quicken—only Naomi seems to do that to me—but my mind accelerates, calculating angles and exits.
I count two deputies exiting the vehicles. It could be a random stop.
Butcould beis too thin to stand on.
I have maybe thirty seconds before they walk in. I make a decision. I unplug the machine, grip the cord with my teeth, and strip back about half an inch of the plastic coating. Exposed copper wire gleams in the dim light.
