It’s as though everything I’ve ever held dear is evaporating before my very eyes.
“Clover?” There’s a thump on the bathroom door, almost as if he let his head fall to the thin wood.
I lift my palms to it, where I imagine his to be. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t remember such important things.”
Tears fall silently. But instead of retreating, I press my palms harder against the door and swallow my own sadness. He’s been through enough.
“Valen, listen to me.” My voice is steadier than it has any right to be. “You’re not broken because you can’t remember. Itisn’t your fault. You’re here now. That’s what matters. And…” I suck down a sob that wants to break free. “We’ll make new memories together here, at the murder motel.”
The joke lands with the grace of a lead balloon, and he’s quiet for so long I fear he’s walked away, when he says, “Okay.”
Okay is better than no, so I push off the door and turn the shower on as hot as it’ll go.
The water pressure is surprisingly decent, and I stand under the spray for a long time, processing the day.
When my fingers prune, I turn off the water, and with a final pep talk, I emerge from the bathroom in loungewear. Soft cotton pants and an oversized T-shirt that saysI’d rather be readingunder my favorite light blue cardigan.
Valen’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, but looks up as soon as he hears the door open, then freezes.
I crumble under his scrutiny. “What?” I touch my face. “Do I have something?—”
“No. You’re—” He clears his throat and tugs on his neck. “Nothing. Are you done in there?”
“Yup. It’s all yours.”
He grabs his bag and disappears without a backward glance.
The shower starts, and so do wicked images of him. What does he look like naked now?
Freaking hell. He’s naked. In the shower. Valen Stone is naked in my bathroom, and I can’t unsee all the dirty images my mind is now creating just for me.
I’m not this person.
I don’t perv out over people.
I don’t imagine them naked, in bed, or in me…
Gah. I need a distraction. Now.
There must be something here to keep my mind occupied. I search the small table, then the end table, and there on top are laminated menus, flyers for mini golf and…
My heart thumps wildly as I stare at the bathroom door. There’s no way he knew this, right?
I turn over the flyer for the Montvale Tavern that says, Karaoke Every Thursday Night! 9 p.m. to Midnight!
It’s as though someone handed him a road map to my bucket list and now it’s all falling into our path.
I check my phone. 7:30.
Karaoke in a dive bar is at the top of my list.
The threads of my sweater protest as I tug the ends more tightly around myself.
The bathroom door opens, and Valen emerges in jeans and a T-shirt. His damp hair falls onto his forehead, and I forget how to form words because apparently teenage love never goes away.
I’m blinking too quickly to be natural but can’t stop it either. Instead, I thrust the flyer in the air. “Did you do this?”
