Page 86 of The Heartbreak Hotel

Their new journey had begun.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Riley

“You’re pathetic.” The gruff voice scoffed from the armchair nestled in the corner. Riley didn’t need to look at her dad to know he’d been drinking. She could hear the slur to his words, smell the open bottle of whisky that no doubt rested on the side table next to him.

She’d closed the bathroom door as quietly as she could before sneaking into the dark hallway, but he must’ve heard her crying. She hated that. She lingered for a moment, unsure whether the statement was directed at her or one of his horse bets gone wrong.

“Thought ye were leavin’, so why’re ye still here?”

But of course his scorn was directed at her. She’d be stupid to ever think otherwise.

She’d only been home for a week—not home, but Ireland, anyway. Since she’d packed up and moved out of Elodie’s place, she’d been in such a state, she’d actually thought things might have been different. But things never changed here. Her dad never changed.

She inhaled a shaky breath, squeezed and relaxed her fists, then stepped into the doorway. “I am leavin’, Da.”

He scoffed again from the corner, the chair creaking with his weight as he emptied his glass and refilled it from the bottle on the table. The TV lit his face as it flickered whatever rubbish they played at two in the morning. A mix of black-and-white reruns, teleshopping, and gambling, no doubt. His grey hair was thinner than she was used to, but the sneering lip and the red, bulbous nose were the same as her memories.

He shook his head, eyes dazed and sluggish as they took in her small form. “Sure, but ye still standin’ there.”

“I’m leavin’ in the morning.”

“It’s the mornin’ now.” His voice hardened, his body stilling as his fingers tightened around the glass.

Riley tensed, adrenaline licking up her spine and shaking her tiredness away. She knew that voice; things could get ugly. She sniffed and took a step back, her heart beating loudly against the quiet mumble of the TV. Quick steps led her back down the hallway and into her bedroom. The books she’d left here, along with her favourite poster of Keira Knightley, were long gone. The pile of unopened mail, dirty laundry, and random crap resembled more of a dumping ground for her dad’s unwanted things than her childhood room—which was fitting, she supposed. Her dad had never wanted her, either.

She scooped up her damp clothes, which were drying on the radiator, and stuffed them into her suitcase, fighting the tears forming. What was I thinking, coming here? One ear listened for movement down the hallway, but her thumping heart made that difficult.

Finally, with another quick glance over the jumbled mess and a double-check of her pockets for her Irish documents, she was ready. Well, that was a lie. She wasn’t ready to leave the only slither of normality she had left, now that her girlfriend and future had burst into flames—but what choice did she have?

Sucking in a shaky breath, she triple-checked her pocket. At least now she had her passport and Irish savings, she could go anywhere. But the prospect was much less exciting when standing completely alone.

A smash of glass snapped her spine straight, the grumbling groan down the hallway rolling through her bones like thunder.

Mum had left. Elodie had left. But Riley was determined to build something from the ashes. She couldn’t be like her dad.

Another crash from the living room swivelled her head. She had to go. Shrugging on her coat and pulling her beanie over her hair, she tugged her suitcase down the hallway, wheels clunking on the uneven carpet.

“Leavin’, are ye?” Her dad’s looming form stumbled into the hallway, swallowing her in a tall shadow. “Just like ye bleedin’ mother.”

Her pulse quickened, and she swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “I’d rather be like her than like you, you feckin’ waste of space.” The scowl on her dad’s face deepened, but the words felt too good to stop. “You couldn’t control her, and you can’t control me. You’re just a lonely, bitter old man, and I hope you spend the rest of your days in that battered armchair, wondering where your life went wrong. You’re no father to me.”

He lunged for her, his drunken feet tripping over the peeling carpet, and crashed against the wall with a groan.

Riley shook her head, pity and shame curling into a ball in her gut. “Goodbye, Michael.” And she shut the door behind her, heading out into the cold, knowing she’d never see her dad again.

The memory rearranged itself before her eyelids, melting away into the present space of her cabin. This was the first place that was ever hers. She’d never had so much freedom or control over her life. She’d found herself here.

Doubt tiptoed into her mind. Would she lose that, leaving the island with Ella?

The woman beside her stirred, nuzzling into her shoulder. Warmth spread into her chest, curling and squeezing around her heart. As much as the island had shown her parts of herself, Ella had too. Parts of herself she’d thought were dead or lost to the world.

In the same way she’d known she had to leave her childhood home four years ago, she knew she couldn’t let Ella go. What they had was special, mind-bending, soul-affirming. A searing, possessive, heated connection that she’d never even thought possible. For the first time in a long time, Riley could think about the future.

That told her everything she needed to know.

She ran her hand over Ella’s sleeping form, and she groaned, batting her away.