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“Out with it, Carter. You’re ruining my buzz. If you two aren’t going to butt heads, then at least make whatever you’re dying to say entertaining,” Quaid utters, his head now leaning against the cushion, eyes closed.
“Something’s wrong with Valentina.”
“You are such a grade A douche. Because we slept together, now there is something wrong with her?” Logan throws his arms in the air aggravated.
“Will you stop with that wounded ego shit and just hear me out?!” I belt out, losing my temper. However, it’s a miracle it’s been this restrained to begin with. “I said something is seriously wrong with our girl!”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” Quaid questions, straightening his head, and appearing sober all of a sudden.
“When you two sorry assholes went to lick your wounds, I came back to the hotel room with the intention of confronting Valentina again. Demand answers on why she wanted us all on this trip when it was obvious she’d made her choice already.” I slant my eyes at Logan.
“I don’t think she has. I don’t think Val will ever be able to choose. Not then and not now,” Logan mumbles, his puffed chest now deflated.
Instead of broaching that minefield, I stick to the one that is more urgent. “I came back, and Valentina was on the floor, a bloody mess with a shard of glass to her wrist. I think she was going to hurt herself.”
“That’s not possible,” Logan quakes, rushing over to her room.
“She’s asleep, Logan. Let her be, but I know what I saw.”
“And what did you see?” Quaid questions with the same fear in his tone that I have been drowning in since I came back to our suite.
“I saw a woman on the edge, wanting to give up.”
“No. Not Valentina. We know her. She would never do that. Not to us.” Quaid shakes his head in denial.
“She isn’t the same girl we fell in love with, Quaid. She’s different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but she’s changed.”
“We’ve all changed,” Logan adds, running his fingers through his hair in desperation.
“Something isn’t adding up. We’ve all felt it, even if we refuse to believe it. Valentina is hiding something.”
“You think she’s…she’s…” Quaid stutters back at me, unable to utter the word suicidal.
“I’m not sure.” I bow my head, trying hard not to have the image of a naked Valentina seconds away of taking her own life branded to my memory. “I don’t think our Valentina ever had those types of dark thoughts, but who I encountered a few hours ago, wasn’t our Val. It was almost as if she was in a daze, completely confused by her surroundings.”
Having had enough of my rambling, Logan picks up his phone and starts typing madly on it.
“What are you doing?”
“Searching for a doctor who can come over to the hotel.”
I breach the gap between us and snatch his phone away from his hands.
“No doctors,” I tell him apologetically. “She made me promise. Don’t make me a liar, Logan.”
He lets out a long exhale.
“So what do you suggest we do?”
“We stay and figure this out. Try to get at the bottom of what she is reluctant to tell us.”
“You think she’s lying to us?” Quaid asks, not hiding his hurt.
“Not lying, no. But definitely omitting something.” I maul the cushion of my lower lip with my teeth.
“I don’t like this,” Logan says, shaking his head.
“Do you love her?” I ask point-blank, and his head snaps into place.
