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Just a short stay with Breaker and my life had changed so much. Hell, I didn't even have to wonder about what I was going to eat because Breaker cooked. He let me try once and I succeeded in somehow turning a box of angel hair pasta into one giant, doughy glob of disgustingness that even I couldn't palate and I had been surviving on sodium-laden ramen and old Chinese for longer than I cared to admit.
Breaker had just laughed, tossed the pasta, and made a fresh batch that came out annoyingly perfect.
I knew I had only gotten a small view of his life. A life when he was home which, he admitted, wasn't often. He was off on jobs all the time. In town. Out of town. All around the country. I only got to see vacation Breaker. I didn't see him coming in covered in blood. I didn't see him coming in covered in gashes and bruises. Things I knew happened frequently because his body had more scars than I could count. I didn't know what it was like to worry about him not making it back.
I got only a small view of his lifestyle.
But I feel like I got a full view of him. As a person.
And I liked what I saw.
Too much.
I've never known much about relationships between people. I had never been given the opportunity to get close with another person. And maybe that could be blamed for the irrational, overwhelming connection I felt to him.
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.
