“It was all about me. It was whatIwanted and whatIneeded. I couldn't put that on you.”
“Can you come back to the motel? Please?”
I know I shouldn't. “Why?” I ask.
“Because I didn’t come here to see you for five minutes. I can admit that.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I don’t know.” She almost shouts. This is the part I didn’t want to deal with because it’s not cut and dried. It’s a fucking mess. But I can’t walk away from her.
“I can't stay. I left my dog up at my place.”
“Then let me come up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“A lot happened up at my place, Claudia. I’m bringing you right back down if you can’t handle it.”
“I’m not—” she stops herself. She brings herself back to reality. My house, my yard, it’s a part of her war story. Neither of us know what demons she’ll find up there. “Okay,” she finally says.
I sigh. This isn’t about me. It’s about her. “Go to the front desk and wait for me.”
“Why?”
“So we can tell Kaleb you’re coming up to my place.”
“Why does the hotel clerk need to know our business?”
“Because when beautiful women come into towns like this and leave their cars at roadside motels it’s good for a few people to have an idea of what’s going on and where they actually went.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah. That’s not a bad idea.”
“I’ll be right there.” I end the call and make sure it’s clear for me to make a u-turn.
I’m making a huge fucking mistake.
Six
Itakemy time driving back up to my place, even when I hit the split to my private road. Claudia is quiet most of the time. She comments on the trees every now and then. I tell her it’s greener than usual thanks to all the rain we’ve been getting. It’s not raining now, but it’s due to start up again soon I tell her. Sticking to the weather and the terrain seems to be safe. When we pull up to my gate, I realize I didn’t close it when I left. I know why. I won’t beat myself up about it.
I watch Claudia out of the corner of my eye as the security lights around my property pop on. I pull my truck to a stop in its usual spot. I wait a minute, gauge her reaction.
“This is your place?”
“Yeah.”
She frowns. “I don’t remember this.”
“I’m not going to sit here and try to shock you into remembering.”
“Good call. Let’s go inside.”
I cut the engine, grab the roses out of the back seat, then meet her around the passenger side. I’m tempted to take her hand when she hops out of the cab, but I don’t. I don’t know where we are, but it’s not there.
“I remember this,” she says when she steps up on the porch. She’s looking at my front door.
