Page 27
She stops.
No pushing.
No pity.
Just a small nod.
“Okay.”
Fuck.
That somehow makes me want to tell her more.
I don’t.
Rain starts before we finish eating. Not just a drizzle but sheets of rain.
Tommy walks over with his phone. “You two headed north?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t.”
I look up. “Why?”
“Rockslide just closed Route Nine. State police have the pass blocked. With this rain, they won’t clear it tonight.”
Clara looks at me. “How far is the detour?”
“Four hours,” Tommy says. “Maybe five in this.”
“No.”
I check the radar on my phone.
He’s right. I could ride it but I’m not putting Clara through it.
“There’s a motel down the road,” Tommy says. “Only one on this side of the ridge. Better grab something before everybody coming off Nine does.”
Twenty minutes later, Clara and I stand in the lobby of the Millstone Motor Inn dripping rainwater onto ugly brown carpet.
The woman behind the desk types something.
Frowns.
Types again.
“I’ve got one left.”
“Great,” Clara says.
“One king.”
Silence.
I look at Clara.
She looks at me.
