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Angel’s Claim

Page 8

by Zoey Rose

It's not uncomfortable. Just quiet.

"How long have you lived here?" Bree asks finally.

"About six weeks."

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah. It's a good town. Quiet. People mostly keep to themselves but look out for each other when it matters."

She nods and goes back to watching the sidewalk ahead of us. I don't push for conversation. If she wants to talk, she will. If she doesn't, that's fine too.

We pass a hardware store with darkened windows, a laundromat that's still open but empty, and a corner market with a flickering neon sign. Bree looks at everything like she's memorizing the layout of this town.

"Is it always this quiet?" she asks.

"This time of night, yeah. During the day it's busier. Not much, but enough."

"It's nice."

"You used to somewhere louder?"

She hesitates. "Yeah. A lot louder."

I don't ask where. It's still too soon for that.

We turn onto Pine Street, and the Millhaven Inn comes into view: a two-story building with pale siding and a lit sign out front. It's not fancy, but it's clean, and the owner doesn't ask questions.

Bree slows slightly as we approach, and I see her shoulders tense.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just—" She stops. Takes a breath. "This is real now, you know? Getting a room. Staying somewhere that isn't home. It makes it real."

"You want to go back?"

"No." The answer comes immediately, no hesitation. "No, I don't want to go back."

"Then don't."

She looks at me, and I see something shift in her expression. Fear giving way to something steadier.

"You’re right." she says.

We walk up to the entrance together. I hold the door open, and Bree steps inside.

The lobby is small and dated. Floral wallpaper and a front desk with a teenager scrolling on his phone. He looks up when we walk in, and his eyes go straight to the cut Bree's wearing.

His gaze flicks to me, recognition dawning. "Hey, Angel."

"Tyler. Need a room."

"Yeah, sure." He grabs a key from the board behind him without asking for ID or a credit card. Just sets it on the counter. "Room twelve. Second floor. Eighty a night, pay when you check out."

I hand Bree the key, and she takes it.

"Thank you," she says to Tyler.

He nods and goes back to his phone.