For the next ten minutes, I watch as Clover slides into her element, answering questions about craft and her writing process. About what’s next and if there will be more movies. The store employee grabs more stacks of books for Clover to sign, and the entire time, Clover’s grin is pure delight.
This is what our past has robbed her of—the opportunity to be surrounded by love and admiration for all her hard work.
Before I know it, four bookstore shoppers are clustered around Clover. I watch for the signs—the breath holding, the fidgeting, the retreat into herself. But she’s holding steady. Her foot taps a rhythm against the floor, her own private metronome, but her smile never wavers. She’s found a coping mechanism that isn’t about hiding—it’s about anchoring.
Clover’s never glowed more brightly.
Out of the corner of my eye, glitter, of all fucking things, catches my attention in the form of a snow globe. Drifting closer, I pick it up and shake it. Inside is a stack of books, and the glitter is tiny letters floating around them.
It’s something Clover would love. It’s the only explanation I have for purchasing the damn thing.
“She’s good at this,” Chief murmurs, stepping into the store beside me as I tuck the tiny snow globe under my arm for safekeeping.
“Yeah,” I say through a throat thick with emotion I don’t know how to process.
“Makes me wonder what she’ll be like when she finally allows herself to live a little, ya know?”
I don’t answer because I know why she hides, why she dulls her glow. Shining makes you visible. Visible means vulnerable, and vulnerable means?—
But she’s shining now.
And I think I’ll do anything to make sure she never dims her light again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CLOVER
The Montvale Motel looks exactly like the kind of place where someone gets murdered in the opening scene of a thriller.
Flickering neon sign, check. Cracked parking lot, check. Exterior stairs that are one strong wind away from collapse, check. And a clerk behind bulletproof glass who eyes us like we might be the ones doing the murdering, double check.
In short, this place is perfection, even if Valen is staring at me as though he can’t figure me out. That’s okay—I’ve been me my whole life, and I can’t figure me out either.
Jumps at loud noises but runs headfirst into a murder motel? I get it. I’m a contradiction at every turn.
The truth is, he gives me…courage. I would never have even known this place existed if it weren’t for him.
“We called earlier about two rooms,” Valen tells the woman through a little metal speaker. “Connecting, if you have them.”
I’m vibrating with nervous energy. We left Happiness more than twelve hours ago, I haven’t counted in six, and I just spent the last hour at a bookstore where I was recognized by actual readers who love my work.
Me!
Valen doesn’t comment on the fact that had we kept driving, we’d almost be at our destination by now. He simply stopped anywhere and everywhere he thought I might like.
My brain doesn’t know what to do with all this input that isn’t terror-based, and I’m bouncing on my toes as a result.
“You’re getting the last two rooms of the night,” the clerk says, sliding large metal keys under the glass partition to Valen and then to Chief. “But we’re under construction, and they don’t connect. One’s got a single bed, other has two of them, but they’re clean. Cleaned them myself this morning. Numbers twelve and thirteen, second floor.” She slams a metal grate down so hard, Valen would have lost a finger had he not jumped back at the last second.
“Thanks,” I call through the now-closed window. “I haven’t slept in a twin bed in ages.”
Do I sound excited about this? Yes. Do I know why? Not a freaking clue.
Valen holds the key, eyeing me carefully as we trudge up the exterior stairs. Chief grumbles about his knees, and Wrecks stops to sniff every suspicious stain.
It’s pretty gross.
“You do understand that this means we’ll be sharing a room, right?” Valen stops at the top of the stairs, and Wrecks attempts to pull free from my grasp. “You can’t be in a room alone, and Chief snores like a chainsaw.”
