“We found a place just over the Nebraska border that had rooms. I’ll text you a link.” Matt’s jaw cracks open with a wide yawn. He barely stops himself from wiping at his eyes, grimacing at the grime covering his hands. “We can all do the drive together. Everyone is tired. Roads are going to be dark.”
“Thanks.” I slip out of Wes’s hold to throw my arms around Tracy. It’s not the first time we’ve witnessed this kind of destruction, and it’s unlikely to be the last, but it doesn’t get much easier. Her arms tighten, holding on just a fraction longer than she usually would, before she starts yawning too, and we all agree it’s best to get on the road before anyone falls asleep.
“I’ll drive,” I tell Wes, nudging him toward the passenger seat. “You did the heavy lifting.”
The fact that he doesn’t argue tells me just how exhausted he is. Wes drops into his seat with a groan, then fishes around in the back seat for a bottle of water. “Let me see your arm before we go anywhere.”
“I’ll deal with it at the hotel.”
“You’ll deal with it now.” It’s gently said, but he isn’t backing down. I sigh and give him my arm after he slathers sanitizer over his hands, trying not to wince as he dabs at thecrusted blood with some napkins from the glove box. Antibiotic ointment goes on next, followed by a large bandage from the bottom of his bag.
As soon as he’s done fussing over me, I pull out behind Tracy and Matt. “Does that place Matt booked still have rooms?”
“Checking now.” Wes frowns, his expression illuminated in the pale blue light of his phone screen. “Says they’ve got two left.”
I chew on my lip and stare at the red glow of Tracy’s taillights as we make our way back toward the highway. I’m about to reply with a flip comment. Another joke to hide that this thing between usissomething I want—just like I’ve done for most of my life.
Maybe it’s the long stretch of darkness pressing in all around us. Maybe it’s that I just watched Wes spend hours putting himself at risk to help strangers. Maybe it’s the conversation we had in that field full of lightning.
Maybe I’m just too tired to keep pretending I don’t want this as much as I do.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and sneak a quick glance at him before I slowly ask, “You think we should leave one open if someone else needs it?”
“Would be the responsible thing to do,” Wes says, exhaustion and emotion drawing out his accent. His hand slides across the dark interior of the car and settles on my thigh in a loose hold. “If that’s what you want.”
Warmth floods my veins. I drop my hand on top of his and give him a light squeeze. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Wes squeezes back. “Neither do I.”
It’s nearly midnightby the time we all drag ourselves into the lobby of the hotel, four exhausted and bedraggled storm chasers weighed down by duffels and camera bags.
Naturally, the guy at the front desk moves like he’s trapped in glue as he checks Tracy and Matt in first. He’s going for friendly, rambling on about the pool—which closed two hours ago—despite the late hour and how visibly drained we all are.
When it’s finally mine and Wes’s turn, I give Tracy’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “Don’t wait for us. Go sleep.”
She leans closer, her voice barely audible when she says, “Sharing rooms now?”
“We didn’t want to take both in case someone else needed it,” I hiss back, thankful that Wes is dealing with the chatty desk clerk and isn’t paying attention to our conversation.
“Mmmhmm.” Tracy gives me one of her infamous you-are-full-of-shit-and-we-both-know-it looks. Matt thankfully chooses that moment to clear his throat and save me from more questions. At least for tonight.
One long-winded attempt by the desk clerk to make the continental breakfast as appealing as a ten-course tasting menu in Paris later, Wes hands me a key and barely manages to stifle a yawn. “C’mon, darlin’.” He settles his hand on my hip as we shuffle toward the elevator. “Let’s go fall down.”
“Shower,” I mutter into his shoulder. Tracy’s teasing aside, I’m glad I won’t be alone tonight. Under the sweat, the familiar scent of Wes is a balm on my jagged edges. “We both really need to shower first.”
He hums his agreement, but it’s not until he pushes open the door to our room and my eyes drift to the large bed in themiddle of the space that it really sinks in. We’re alone, in a hotel room, and this time it’s far from medicinal.
“There’s a twenty-four-hour diner across the street. Why don’t I grab us some takeout while you get cleaned up?” Wes sets his camera bag down gently on the floor and then drops his duffel next to it before stretching his arms above his head and yawning.
My stomach rumbles a reminder that our stop for lunch was over ten hours ago. “Grilled cheese and a giant pile of fries sounds great.”
“Yeah it does.” He flashes me a tired smile and bends to grab his wallet from his camera bag. “Go get clean. It’ll help.”
I can’t help a laugh when I step into the bathroom and glance over at the shower. I’ll have to stoop to fit. Wes is going to have to practically bend himself in half.
Shoving aside the thought that a naked, wet Wes is shortly to occupy the same space I’m standing in, I hurry through the shower, wincing and hissing as the hot water finds every last nick and scrape I’ve collected over the course of the evening. At least when I pull the bandage off my arm, the scrape isn’t nearly as bad as it originally looked.
By the time Wes is back, I’m perched on the edge of the bed in a clean pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, towel-drying my hair as best I can in the chilly air-conditioning. He frowns when I shiver, pausing with his outstretched hand only halfway within reach.
