I knew nothing about love. But it took six kisses to get from his mouth to his ear. Nine, ear to collarbone. Sixteen, collarbone to hipbone. And sometimes, when he was tired, he was ticklish right there in that hollow. No, I knew nothing about love. But I swear all I wanted to do for the rest of my life was lie on his chest, stealing his warmth, feeling him trace shapes into my hip. I wanted to slip my fingers in between his. There were seventeen scars on his hands. I wanted to know the story of every last one.
If that wasn't love... well, then I didn't know what was.
It didn't matter that it was too soon.
It didn't matter that it flashed brilliant and then I had to extinguish it before I even got a chance to bask in the heat. It didn't matter that I would never feel his hands on my skin anymore, hear my name shiver off his tongue. It didn't matter that I would walk around missing him and what we had forever.
All that mattered was that he got to go on breathing. Go on receiving kisses. Giving warmth. Making perfect pasta. Even if it was for other women. Maybe especially if it was for other women. Women like me. Women who never knew a touch that sent currents through their body. Women who didn't know how nice it was to have someone to bounce ideas off of. Women whose lives would be forever changed just by knowing him briefly.
That was why I was doing what I was doing.
Because the world needed men like Breaker.
I wasn't going to let the world lose him.
I would throw myself in front of Lex first.
I sighed, standing up, and moving down the side road. I had no idea where I was. Where the road led. If I would be happened upon. If there would be anywhere for me to stop and warm up.
It was getting late. It was impossible to tell how late, given the season and the fact that it was dark by five. But I felt like I had been walking for hours. I probably had if the aching in my legs was any proof. But I wasn't familiar with the area where Breaker lived. So I had no idea where the road I was following might lead. Back into town? Which wouldn't be a good thing. I needed to get as far away from town as possible. First, because of Lex and his goons. Second, because if I knew Breaker (and I was pretty sure I did), he would be looking for me too.
I reached into the bag that Jstorm left me, fumbling for the burner, powering it up, and checking the time.
Seven thirty.
I sighed, forcing my legs to keep moving despite the intolerable soreness.
And just when I was thinking it would be better to slip back into the woods unseen and lie down for a while, I saw the neon green motel sign.
With a groan of relief, I pushed my legs to close the distance, throwing open the door to the office and praying there was availability.
“Hey there darlin',” a man's voice greeted me from behind the desk.
I walked over, resting my arms on the desk and looking over to see someone sitting in an old recliner, feet up, watching a game on TV. He was middle aged with thinning dark hair and a beer belly, his round face a little oily. Exactly the kind of man who looked like he ran a rundown motel in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
“Hey. Are there any rooms?” I asked, reaching into the bag Jstorm left me and dragging out the cash and fake Ids.
“Sure are,” he informed me, lifting his body out of the chair and coming toward the desk. “Just you stayin'?” he asked, his eyes raking down my body in a way that made my mouth taste sour.
“No. My boyfriend just went to grab some takeout.”
At this, he nodded, turning away as if disinterested. And I got the sneaking suspicion that if I hadn't just lied my ass off, there was a chance that he would have shown up at my door later. With a key. And a hand full of roofies.
Gross.
“Well you two can stay in room seven. It's all the way on the end,” he said, handing me a key. As in... a key. Not a credit card key. An actual metal one. Weird. “You putting this on a card or...”
“Cash,” I said immediately.
“Seventy for the night or fifteen for the hour.”
Double gross.
I didn't even know pay-by-the-hour places actually existed.
“Seventy it is,” I said, thumbing through the money and handing him eighty.
“If you need anything at all, darlin', anything at all... you just come here and talk to Bob, okay?”
It took everything I had not to grimace. “Thanks,” I said, taking the ten he was holding out, making sure our fingers didn't so much as touch, shoving the money in my bag, and making my way quickly back out of the office.
Creeps were creeps were creeps.
But Bob who ran a pay-by-the-hour motel and used physical keys (meaning there were very likely duplicates), and referred to himself in the third person? Yeah, that was like... super creepy.
I made my way toward the room at the end, stopping at the vending machine to grab snacks and a drink, then grabbing a bunch of discarded beer bottles off the curb, before sinking my key into the lock and going into my room.
So motels were gross. Didn't matter where they were across the country, they were nasty. Dated wallpaper. Dirty carpets. Old box TVs. A bedspread and sheets that probably hadn't been washed in weeks.
Skanky, skeezy places.
But it was my only option. So I tried to look past the peeling of the dingy brown wallpaper. I kept my eyes off the stained carpets. And I went nowhere near the bed. I dropped all my things on the top of the folding table that had seen better days but looked relatively clean then made my way to the bathroom to check the sink for roaches. Thankfully, none. Then went to the bed, lifting the mattress, and searching for bed bugs. Again, none. But I wasn't taking any chances anyway.
I nabbed the empty bottles off the table, moving to the door, securing the locks and chains, then balancing one bottle on the knob and laying the rest on the floor in front of the door. There was carpet so the bottle on the knob wouldn't break if it fell , but if it fell and landed on the other bottles, I'd hear it. Even if Creepy Bob had a key, there was no way he was getting in without me knowing it.
I washed my hands and went to work on eating though I had no appetite. I hooked up my laptop and linked into the unsecure network the motel offered, checking around online.
Nothing from Jstorm.
Nothing from the posts about Glenn's death.
Just... nothing.
I sighed, plugging in the name of the motel and seeing where I was. What was around. How I could get form where I was to where I was going. Which, well, I had no idea of yet.
Apparently a city bus had a stop right out front and would take me through the town and could drop me off at the train station where I could buy a ticket to any number of places.
Jstorm had the plans all laid out.
I just had to go through the motions.
I sighed, powering down the laptop and dragging the second folding chair closer so I could prop up my legs. I had never been one of those 'can sleep anywhere' kind of people. I needed a bed and a blanket and a pillow. I needed to be able to stretch out. But with the looming threat of Lex, of Creepy Bob, and the very possible incurable disease I could catch from getting within three feet of that bed, well, I was just going to have to learn how to sleep sitting up.
The door to the room next to mine opened and slammed. I heard laughter, a deep male voice, a high female one. Then the bed squeaked loud once. Then, not two minutes later, started squeaking fast and frantic.
Apparently room six had a pay-by-the-hour guest.
Lovely.
I switched on my TV, letting the religion station blare on and on about sin and other shit that didn't mean shit in a sleep-and-fuck motel. Or in the kind of life I lived in in general.
The couple in the next room made mewling and groaning noises. The bed stopped squeaking. There was shuffling. And then the door was closing. Apparently all they needed was twenty minutes.