“Hard to perform with a migraine tearing my skull apart.” He changes the subject, forcing a smile. “You hungry? I can order room service.”
“No, I…” Swallowing, I glance back at the bathroom. “I’m fine.”
He nods.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I inch toward him, unease blooming in my gut. “That’s a lot of pills.”
“It’s just pain reliever. Some are preventive. Don’t worry about it.”
Of course I’m going to worry about it.
I care about him.
He’s been suffering, and I had no idea. While he complains about headaches sometimes, I didn’t realize it was to the extent of carrying around a travel pharmacy.
But I’m getting the impression he doesn’t want to talk about it. So I let it go.
I slide onto the king-size bed. Crawl underneath the covers. Flip off the nightlight beside me.
A few tense minutes roll by as I gaze up at the ceiling.
Chase turns off the remaining lights. “Good night,” he says.
“Good night.”
The sheets are cool against my skin, crisp in the way only hotel linens are. Icurl toward the center, my back to the door, and stare into the dark.
Beside me, I hear the soft rustle of blankets. A squeaking box spring.
I close my eyes, but I already know sleep won’t come. Not with everything rattling inside me. Intrusive thoughts. Weeks of insomnia and adrenaline. Loneliness, grief, strobes, and solos. For a moment I forget I’m not curled up on the bench seat of the Sprinter with crooked, twisted limbs, a cramp in my leg, and my brother’s hoodie tucked around me.
My mind wanders, recalling the bed I slept in for years. Familiar. Dishware clinks in the far corners of my mind. The scent of fried food lingers in my nose, hot stoves making me sweat.
“I’ve never cheated, never even looked at another woman.”
I slap a hand over my face, willing the ghosts to scatter.
This damn guilt. I can’t shake it. Can’t let it go.
It’s there, assaulting me, every time I close my eyes.
My thoughts spiral, latching onto that moment in the rain. His hands all over me, pressed against my throat, palming my breast. My spine digging into the railing.
Cold water from the sky. Hot, wet kisses. Moans, sighs, gasps.
Another man. Betrayal. Evidence that maybe Alex was right about me.
“I don’t know how to carry this, Chase.” The sound of my voice is weak and frayed, but loud enough to carry over to him. I hear him shift. See his shadow move as he sits up, a few feet away. “I’m sorry. I…” A little sob falls out. A croak of mourning.
I yank the blankets over my head, burying my face in the dark. Hiding from him. From myself.
I stay like that for a long time, knees tucked to my chest, breath uneven. The ache is everywhere. Between my ribs, behind my eyes, deep in my throat.
That’s where he finds me, shriveled up and broken.
The blanket lifts slowly, and the air brushes cool against my skin. My eyes adjust to the faint hotel glow leaking in from the hallway, just enough to catch the outline of his silhouette. Broad shoulders. Tousled hair. Bare skin, chiseled and inked.
I want to see his eyes. Want to know what’s in them when he looks at me.
