“Why was it in a bathtub?”
“Everyone asks me that, and I have no idea,” I say. “It was tricky getting it out of there—must’ve been tricky getting it in.”
“Were they anticipating a nuclear bomb or something?” she asks. I stare, and Madeline frowns back for a moment. “Wait, no, that’s fridges. Tornados?”
“Not a lot of mountain tornados.”
“Why’d they tear it down?”
I know I read the answer at some point, but I don’t remember it now. That doesn’t stop the urge I have to make up some answer so she keeps asking more questions and I get to keep answering them.
“It’s just what happens to old motels,” I say. “For a while you’re a fun, trendy destination for fun, trendy honeymoons, but the time comes when your heart-shaped Jacuzzis and pink shag carpeting just aren’t as much of a draw as they used to be.”
“Tell me it had both those things,” she says. “Wait, do you have pictures?”
“If you’re the cops, you have to tell me right now.”
“No, I don’t.” She’s grinning. “Take your chances, Javier. You think I’m the abandoned-motel police? Maybe this whole thing has been a long con.”
I come so close to sayingIf you fucked me to get a confessionit was worth it, but I bite it back at the last second because there are other people around, even if I wish there weren’t. It’s been so long since I slept on her air mattress that I’ve nearly forgotten how it felt to wake up, desperate to leave. All that replaced by the sound of her voice over the phone.
I shouldn’t forget. I know better than that; I know remembering the air mattress is my best defense against the way she fucking—sparkles when she laughs, the way she touches shitty old scrap metal like it’s fascinating. Suddenly I feel like I might fidget out of my skin.
“Want to take a walk?” I ask, and if she’s thrown by the change in topic, she doesn’t act like it.
“Sure,” she says and looks around at the rest of our families. “Should we?—”
“No. Just us.”
She looks up at me, right in the eyes, and tucks a strand of blue hair behind one ear. Takes a slow, measured breath, her necklace catching the light as it shifts.
“Is that a good idea?” she asks.
“Just a walk,” I tell her. “Up to you. But there’s something I think you might like.”
“More than the motel sign?”
“You like the motel sign?”
“Of course.” She takes a step back and looks it over, eyes flicking up and down. “It’s so…” She gestures, and I know what she means.
“Come find out,” I tell her, and that gets a smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MADELINE
Javier’s a lying liar,because this isn’t a short walk. After twenty minutes, we’re still “almost there” and “just a few more blocks,” and I’m gladder than ever that I wore my rarely used snow boots for this.
He wasn’t, however, lying about this only being a walk. I didn’t really think he’d pull me into the hall and ravish me in a broom closet or anything, but it…crossed my mind.
“You’re a liar,” I tell him, my breath fogging as we trudge up this hill. I’m wearing snow boots, tights, a dress, and my nice winter coat, and I’m somehow cold and sweating at the same time.
“I didn’t lie,” he says.
“You said it was two more blocks three blocks ago.”
“I said it was acouplemore blocks.”
