"You don't understand." She glared through teary eyes. "Mom and Dad are going to kill me when they see how much I spent on this suite. They'll cut my cards off and then I won’t be able to work on my novel and then I’ll be stuck working a-and—" Panic gave way to hiccups.
"Laney, everything is going to be fine." I reached for her hands. She flinched away, and my heart did the same. Was that a flicker of her memory? "Where's this retreat?"
"New York," she managed through tears. "For a week."
"Okay, how about I join you? I'll pay for Summer's half. Mom and Dad don't have to know," I blurted out. Was this a good idea? Her and I sharing a room with no one else who knew us around? Could I control myself? Did I want to? This could be my final opportunity to tell her how I'd felt for her for a long time. Was it ridiculous to even consider?
What if she remembered what happened four years ago?
Question after question sped through my brain, vying for attention, but I couldn't decide on any of them. In the end, as I stared at her pink, bee-stung lips, and imagined how they'd feel on mine, I knew I didn't care anymore. I wanted to tempt fate. Surely, if she knew what I did, she'd understand it was all because I loved her.
"You'd do that for me? I thought you hated me."
Oh, Laney darling, you are so far from the fucking truth.
"I could go for a little vacation."
Rule 4 - Priest
Make sure she’s asleep first.
Isat on my bed, scrolling through the website for the Vincent Hotel.The building had an old, Art Deco design, though it seemed a bit worn down from the outside. I skimmed through the history of the hotel and went to the events page, where Laney's retreat was listed.
“Haunting for words: A writer's retreat.”
Tristan Bridges, an unknown author, was leading it. He was a professor for some college in Ohio, but all I saw was a guy who probably fucked his students.
Laney had paid a hefty sum to attend. She'd always liked to read. And I vaguely recalled her having journals. It made sense for her to want to be an author, but this retreat was for established writers. Why would she want to go so badly?
After I agreed to take her friend's spot in her suite, she gushed about it.
"He's been hosting it for the last three years. Everyone who goes raves about it. It's invite-only."
"How did you get one?"
"What? I can't get opportunities because I'm not going to college?"Her body language shifted defensively.
"No, because you’re not published, and this is for published authors, right?"
"It is. Tristan made an exception for me because of Summer. He's her professor. I'm probably his diversity pick." She laughed it off. "Hispanic and unpublished. But that's okay because I'm so excited to go. Summer is missing out."
"Apparently," I muttered. "Is there a pool?"
"Indoors."She went on and on about how excited she was to join all these authors for a full week, but my mind was elsewhere. How could she act like she didn't remember?
She'd seen me grab that mask.
She yawned, and we walked upstairs together, but I knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. After saying our goodnights, we closed our doors. Then I researched the hotel and packed my suitcase with a week’s full of clothes. I packed my carry-on with my laptop so that I could work. Considering my profession, Laney and I were truly perfect for each other. I had to show her that this week.
I shut my light off and stopped playing on my phone. Closing my eyes, all I could see was Laney in that skimpy nightgown. It triggered my memories, but it was hazy.
Pictures hung on the walls from Halloween, Christmas, and birthday parties. Family photos with the four of us looking like the perfect family sat on the mantle. When I came back this summer, the only updates had been her school photos.
It almost felt like I'd lived two different lives. One with her in it, and one without. But now, they were colliding, and I was so fucking...
My cock wept for my attention. I'd spent far too much time with my door locked as a teen, wishing I didn't feel the way I did. Step was not a word ever used in our household, despite knowing that there was no blood between us. But I had always seen her as my sister until one day... I didn't.
On her fourteenth birthday, our parents had rented two motel rooms for her and her friends, with an adjoining door, much like we'd be doing this week. I was allowed to invite two of my friends to join our parents in the other room, while Laney had her party on the other side.
