Page 47 of Peaks and Promises

I turned to the window again. Tilikum was sounding increasingly idyllic. A small town in the mountains, 1,500 miles from Mayhem, with a big family waiting for us.

“Do they know we’re coming?”

Reese hesitated before answering. “No. I haven’t decided what to do about that.”

“Yeah, they’re probably going to wonder why you’re bringing a random single mom and her son with barely a weekend’s worth of clothes.”

“It’s not so much that. I just haven’t seen everybody in a while. And by a while, I mean almost twenty years.”

My pleasant small-town fantasy cracked like a broken mirror. “Why?”

He didn’t reply right away. Just stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.

“It’s a long story,” he said finally. “But you don’t need to worry about it. They’ll still help you and Nate.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Honey, you have a trio of bikers after you, including an ex who will probably kidnap your son if given the chance. How are you not trouble?”

I smiled. “You’re the one who insisted on helping me. You only have yourself to blame.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

Lights shone up ahead. In the vast expanse of desert and empty highway, there was a cluster of buildings. As we got closer, I could make out a gas station, what were probably a couple of restaurants—or maybe a restaurant and a tavern—and a motel.

Reese pulled into the motel and parked outside the office. It was one story with outside entrances to the rooms. There were a few cars in the parking lot, but not many. And no bikes of any kind.

That was a relief. There was no way Axel could have gotten there ahead of us, even if he knew what direction we’d gone. But I still couldn’t shake the worry that he was going to show up somewhere along the way.

Reese went in to get us a room while I waited with a still-sleeping Nate. A few minutes later, he came out and moved the SUV in front of room number six.

He grabbed our bags while I tried to wake Nate, but he was out cold. I unfastened his seat belt and shook him a few times, but he just muttered something incoherent without opening his eyes. Finally, Reese told me he’d carry him inside.

My big-for-his-age son looked like a baby in Reese’s arms. He took him into the room, and I pulled the covers back on one of the beds. Reese lay him down, and I tucked him in. He hardly made a sound.

Exhaustion hit me. Reese insisted I take the first turn in the bathroom, and it took the last of my energy to get ready for bed. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I came out and collapsed onto the bed with Nate. I heard the sound of the bathroom door closing behind Reese as I sank into sleep.

It was hard to tell what woke me, but when I blinked my eyes open, a thin ray of sunlight peeked through a gap in the heavy curtains, illuminating our motel room. It felt early. My body wanted more sleep, but we needed to get on the road. I wanted as much distance between us and Axel as possible.

And even though it sounded like there was tension between Reese and his family, the allure of Tilikum was strong.

Reese lay on his back and glanced at me, as if merely opening my eyes had been enough to get his attention. It didn’t surprise me that he was already awake. I had a feeling his vigilance made him a light sleeper.

I rubbed my eyes and checked the time. Not yet six.

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” I asked, keeping my voice low so I didn’t wake Nate.

“Go ahead.”

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my toiletries and a change of clothes. Reese didn’t move—just lay still with his eyes on the ceiling. He was so big, he took up most of the bed, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to share it with him. To curl up next to that thick, strong body.

Pushing that image out of my mind—I needed to stop thinking like that—I went into the bathroom.

One corner of the mirror was cracked and the fixtures looked old and worn. But it seemed clean, and that was the most important thing.

I undressed and took a shower. It felt good to wash off the previous day on the road. I wouldn’t bother putting on makeup or blow-drying my hair. Air-drying would mean some frizz, but that was what ponytails were for.

Besides, who did I have to impress?