I chose this place instead of the hotel in the next town, at Luca’s suggestion. He said it was close to him. And quiet. I need quiet.
Hunter is anything but quiet. He’s endearing, though. I can admit that. Younger than me, I think, but I can’t be sure of how much.
At thirty-two, I feel ancient. Not really because of my age, but because of my body and, more than that, my mind.
My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten all day. I press a hand to it, more annoyed than anything else. Hunger feels like a demand I don’t have the energy to meet.
Eating means deciding what to make. Making it. Chewing. Swallowing. It feels like more than I want to handle. More than Icanhandle.
I shift sideways in the bed, relaxing into it. It’s comfortable—softer than my worn-down mattress at home—and without much thought, I let my head drop back onto the pillows.
My eyes fall closed almost instantly, but my stomach growls loudly again. I’m not sure that I’ll get away with going to bed without eating. Not tonight. Tonight, I think my hunger will win over my need for sleep. Maybe that’s a good sign. I can’t afford another week like this last one. Not if I’m to be at Luca’s tomorrow.
After forcing myself to sit up, I push to my feet and take another look around the room. It’s cute. Bigger than I expected, with warm, sage-green walls, a built-in fireplace, and tall trim. I’m not sure what stands out so much about the trim, but I like it. It feels… inviting.
Jesus. I roll my eyes. I can’t believe I’m going on about trim.
I step into the small attached bathroom. Stand-up shower, toilet, small sink. There are toiletries lining the edge of the shower and towels draped over the rack across from the toilet. It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll serve my purposes just fine.
It would probably make me feel better to clean myself up some after the trip, but I’d rather eat, and if I try to shower first, who knows if I’ll actually make it downstairs.
Not me. So when my stomach growls again, I shut the bathroom door and slowly make my way down the stairs.
I’m not always good around new people, but I trust Luca. Maybe I shouldn’t; I don’t even know him, but he feels like a kindred spirit. So when he says that the Locks are good people, I have to believe that.
I reach the bottom step and pause. “Hello?” I call out. Maybe I should have asked for a tour or something.
“Theodore.” It’s Hunter again. He’s smiling at me as he rounds the corner, and for a second, I’m frozen.
When was the last time someone smiled at me like that? I couldn’t even say. I worked nights at the gas station, so most of the customers were as tired as me, grabbing energy drinks and shitty food to get them through the night. Sometimes we got the occasional parent coming in to buy meds for sick kids since nothing else was open. But even they weren’t much for smiling.
“Hi,” I say, which might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.
He grins again. “Hello.”
He’s gotta be in his early or mid-twenties. His fluffy brown hair is sticking out around a faded ball cap, and his jaw is smooth and angular. He doesn’t break eye contact for a minute, and the warm hazel of his eyes is full of light—like the world hasn’t broken him yet.
He looks like he fits in here. In a way that I don’t. His worn jeans are stained with dirt, and I can barely make out a hint of black ink showing past the long-sleeve white tee he’s wearing.
“What?” I ask when I realize he asked a question, and I was too busy taking in his attire to hear him.
“I asked if you needed something.”
I nod. “Dinner. If that’s still an option. I’m not sure where the kitchen is.”
He lights up. “Absolutely. I’m glad you decided to eat after all. This way.”
Waving for me to join him, he takes a step away. I follow, keeping my eyes down.
When we step into the kitchen and the scent hits my nose, my stomach twists.
“Hey, Mom. This is Theodore. Theodore, this is my mom, Millie. She runs the place.”
An older woman with dark brown hair and the same hazel eyes as Hunter turns to me with a soft grin. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve just about got dinner finished up. Anything we can get you to drink?”
“Just water is fine. It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am.”
She tuts. “No ma’ams here, please. Just call me Millie.”
