Thoughts running wild about what’s going on behind the closed door to my left, I do my best to quit my fidgeting. It’sno use. I hunch over between my knees with my hands clasped together. Raleigh will return to me any minute and then I’ll escort her out the front to the car and then we’ll go wherever the hell she wants to go.
And I do meananywhere.
As my wheels start to spin, thinking about all the places I’d love to go with her, the dreaded door next to me falls open. Raleigh emerges no worse for the wear; the sight of her sends me scrambling to my feet.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says in passing. I have no problem keeping up with her even though it almost seems like she’s trying to leave me behind.
Even when we’re greeted at the sidewalk by a growing group of reporters, she walks with purpose and without the need of me. That’s too bad for her because I’m here to stay. I quickly catch up with her and press my arm against her lower back. She straightens nervously but hardly misses a step, even as the group forms a bubble around her.
“There is an ongoing investigation,” she says into the nearest microphone. It’s promptly pushed aside by another reporter at which point Raleigh’s eyes narrow. “We do not have a statement at this time.”
As our car comes to a stop at the curb, the reporters realize they’re almost out of time to get their story. A rush of questions and camera lights overwhelm us only feet from the curb. A hand reaches out and touches Raleigh’s shoulder, accompanied by a less than professional question.
“She said that’s enough,” I growl, maneuvering Raleigh ahead of me. “Everyone get out of the way,” I bark again, this time my voice growing louder. We’re almost to the car and I’m starting to get annoyed.
As wide-eyed journalists step aside, I hear Raleigh mumble under her breath, “That’s gonna be a great quote for theirarticles.” She isn’t annoyed like I thought she would be, just fascinated. There’s a smirk on her face as I open the car door and usher her inside. I climb in behind her and slam the door to the circus. When our driver finally pulls away, Raleigh and I take a collective breath.
“What a shit show,” she says, immediately taking out her phone. A sigh bigger than the 505 Building in Nashville escapes her lips when she taps her messages icon. “To the hotel, please,” she says to the driver. The man glances back toward me, and we share a nod.
“You’re sure that’s where you’d be the most comfortable?” I ask, reaching to put an arm around her. I wouldn’t want to go back to the place where an incident like tonight happened, but we’re all tired and desperate for respite. I expect her to shrug me away, but she lets her guard down as she turns her screen toward me.
I see the text from Mitch:
Mitch:Mae’s upset. Trenton won’t return her messages. Turned into hotel for night. Mae going to bed in room.
“I have to be comfortable with it,” she says simply before turning the screen away from me in order to respond.
Peeking over her shoulder, I see her message:
Raleigh:K. Will deal tomorrow.
It’s an uncharacteristically uncaring message, but one I can’t blame her for.
When she’s thrown her phone back into her purse, she leans into me slightly and closes her eyes. Her grip subtly grows tighter, alerting me to the fact that she still isn’t alright. I bring my free hand up to her forehead and gently push her bangs off to the side.
“Sometimes I wonder if someone else would be better suited for all of this,” she whispers into my suit jacket.
It’s my turn for a tightened grip. Carefully resting my lips on the top of her head, I contemplate kissing her fully, but find enough restraint to fight the urge. I simply cradle her against me, hoping to stop her voicing that self doubt.
“I don’t want you to think about that for a second longer,” I say against her copper hair. “There is no other person on this planet that could do the things you do.”
She hums in thought, but doesn’t concede to my truth. I hope she’s thinking long and hard about everything she has accomplished—for Mae, but also herself.
The rest of the car ride is filled with silence, even as we pull up to the lobby doors and two reporters who have stuck it out approach. Raleigh takes my hand in hers and leads me inside. Her hand doesn’t leave mine as she takes me all the way up to her room. The trip is taken wordlessly, but our hearts’ shared beating is enough to provide some background noise to shield us from the silence.
Inside the pristine suite, Raleigh goes directly to her computer. Like a machine, she pulls up documents, email addresses, and phone numbers to work on a statement. She works as though she’s forgotten that she let me in.
She types furiously for what could be an hour but is more likely only a dozen minutes. After looking through her document once more, she aggressively pushes the enter button. After the whooshing sound of a sent email, she sits back and crosses her arms.
“You don’t have to be here right now.”
“You let me in.”
“I know I did,” she says, rubbing a hand down her tired face. “Youcanbe here, you just don’t have to be.”
“I don’t mind being here. In fact, there’s no place I’d rather be.” Her face changes first, followed by her entire demeanor.
“Dalton,” she starts. “I want you here, too, but I can’t do anything with you to—”
