“Thank you for coming,” Cash says. This is the Cash I know. Serious and reserved. In control.
“What else were you going to do?” I say. I blink and it’s hard for me to open my eyes again.
“Are you okay? You’re weaving on your feet.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but when I look down, I see that I’m weaving like a drunk.
“Tired,” I say. My body is starting to shut down from lack of sleep and too much emotional upheaval.
“Whoa,” he says and catches me as I lean over too far. “Let’s get you to bed too.” Before I know what’s happening, I’m horizontal on the other twin bed.
“Get some sleep and I’ll watch him. I’ll wake you if anything happens, okay? He’s fine now. You can rest.” I start to say something, but the words come out as mush and then my body takes over and hits the off switch.
When my eyes open, I panic for a moment. I’m in a hotel room. Why am I in a hotel room? I blink a few more times and wonder if I’m still dreaming. And then the night’s events crash down on me and I’m stumbling to my feet.
“Sylas?” I lurch toward the other bed, but he’s still asleep.
“He hasn’t moved,” a voice says from the corner of the room. I whirl around to find Cash reclined in the only chair in the room, his feet propped up on an ottoman. I sit back down on the bed and rub my eyes.
I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. My mouth is fuzzy and foul and my eyes feel like they have grains of sand in them. Every muscle is screaming in protest as I move.
Turning my head, I check out the clock. It’s six in the morning. So much for getting back in time to go to class. That’s definitely not happening. I’ll have to get on my phone to email my professors. I run my hands through my hair and the curls are all tangled together in knots.
“I’ll be right back,” I say and shuffle my way to the bathroom. It’s a struggle to stand up from the toilet once I’ve used it, but I get there eventually. I wash my hands and try to avoid my face in the mirror, but it’s impossible.
I look like I’ve been through hell and back. I guess I have.
When I come back out, Cash is on the hotel phone. He says something else and then hangs up.
“Room service,” he says. As soon as he mentions food, my hunger appears with a vengeance.
“Thanks,” I say, going to grab my bag and pull out the brush I hope I stashed in there. Yes. I did pack it. I start running it through my tangled hair and wince as it hits snags.
“I’m sorry you had to drop everything and come down here,” he says. I turn and face him, still battling with the brush.
“I know. I understand why you called.” I look at Sylas, but he’s still knocked out. “He needs help. Not the kind we can give him.” I meet Cash’s eyes and he nods slowly.
“I know. I didn’t think it was this bad.” Huh. Guess he hasn’t seen Sylas in this state before.
“He’s had a few episodes that I know of. Especially when he gets too much information at once. Or when it brings up the past.” Cash gets up and paces the room.
“I wish I knew before we came. I wouldn’t have brought him.” I know Cash cares about Sylas like a brother.
“It’s not your fault. Do you mind telling me what exactly happened before the episode?” He sits back down and rubs his face with both hands. He’s just as exhausted as I am.
“We found Andrew at a shitty hotel just outside Dallas. The goal was to lure him somewhere more secluded and take care of it. We were just doing surveillance and then Andrew came out of his room. The minute Sylas saw him, he… I don’t know. He panicked. He started screaming and thrashing around and I had to drive away so his father didn’t see us and know that we were coming for him. Thinking back, it wasn’t the best plan.” They should have brought more backup.
“I got him back here and then he stopped screaming long enough for me to shove him through the lobby and up into the room. He sat down in the corner and didn’t move. I tried talking to him, slapping him, dumping water on him, everything. He was just… gone.”
I sigh.
“I know. It’s like he gets locked in his head and he can’t find his way out,” I say and Sylas finally moves. He’s been so still I want to check his breathing. His eyelids flutter and then open.
“What?” he says. I was confused when I woke up, but that’s probably nothing compared to how he feels now.
“Welcome back,” I say, going over to the other side of my bed so he can look at me.
“Where am I?” he says. His voice is so scratchy. I’m about to ask Cash to get him something to drink, but he’s already on it. Sylas lifts his head and sits up like every bone in his body aches. Cash hands him the water, but his hands can’t hold it. I grab it from Cash and hold it to Sylas’ lips. He downs it, coughs and then asks for some more.
There’s a knock at the door that must be the room service, so Cash goes to get it and wheel the cart in. He’s gotten some of everything. French toast and fruit and yogurt and coffee and muffins and eggs and bacon. It’s enough food for about ten people and they’ve sent place settings for six. It reminds me of the night when Sylas and I ordered room service for dessert and the same thing happened. What a long time ago that was. Lifetimes.
“Hungry?” Cash asks Sylas.
“I don’t know,” he says, sliding to the end of the bed and putting his feet over so he’s sitting up. His hair is messed up in the back from where he was sleeping on it. I want to get up and smooth it down, but I think he needs his space right now.
Cash makes a plate for Sylas and gives it to him. He’s still too weak to hold it, so Cash moves the tray so Sylas can use it as a table. It’s not until he’s eating that I get up and make myself a plate. The food is so good I nearly moan. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.
Cash is last to get his food and then the sound of cutlery on china and the sound of chewing fill the room.
I inhale two fried eggs, four strips of bacon, two pieces of toast and two glasses of orange juice before I start feeling more normal. Sylas eats slowly, with tiny methodical bites. I chase my breakfast with two cups of coffee and that helps wake me up a little and makes me feel more human. It’s amazing what the human body can do on only a few hours of sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Sylas says when he’s cleaned his plate. Cash goes back for seconds. I think Sylas should eat more, but I’m not going to push him if he doesn’t want to.
I’m not sure what, specifically, he’s sorry for.
“It’s okay,” I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, but when we get home, we need to.”
He lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.
“I know,” he says. I expected him to put up more resistance. “This was a bad idea. You were so right, Saige. I’m sorry for fucking this up so badly.” Cash clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable.
“I don’t care if you hear this, Cash. I need to apologize to you, too.” Cash finishes his second plate of food and refills his coffee.
“It’s over now,” I say. “We can go home and figure things out from here.”
Sylas opens his mouth to say something, but then just nods.
“We should get going,” Cash says. God, the last thing I want to do is get on another plane.
I expect Sylas to say no. That he wants to stay and give it another go. But he’s silent as Cash starts packing their things up.
“Sylas?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. I try again. “Sylas, are you still with us?” I’m afraid he’s going to go away again.
“I’m here,” he says in a soft voice.
“Are you okay with leaving?”
“Sure,” he says, which isn’t exactly an answer, but it’s probably as good as we’re going to get.
I head for the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I also change my clothes and when I come out Sylas and Cash are also in different clothes. Cash uses the bathroom and then Sylas has his turn. I hang out near the door, just in case. Not that I think he’s going to do anything, but he’s in such a fragile state, I don’t want to take any risks.