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“Just that we stop, rest and have breakfast. Let’s think about how we’re going to approach this. We don’t want to scare your mom, particularly if she’s always been skittish.“
She swallows hard again. I watch her throat working as she does. “I guess you’re right,“ she says. “Honestly, I keep trying to psych myself up to face her and I just can’t. I keep trying to remember what she said to me at my dad’s funeral and I literally don’t remember a word coming out of her mouth.“
“How long ago was that?“
“Three years ago,“ she says, then drops her voice to a whisper. “I didn’t think she was going to show up, but then she did, and I…I have nothing.“
“It’ll be okay,“ I say. “We can figure out how we’re going to approach her after we’ve slept on it.“
“It’s smart,“ Woods says, in the same neutral psychiatrist tone he used before. “And if she’s not there, at least you won’t freak a random family out.“
She laughs, shaking her head. “If I realized we were just going to stop at a hotel, we could’ve stayed in Orlando.“
I think she’s right, but I don’t say anything. This time, it’s Father Luke Salinas who speaks. “The change of scenery is probably good for you, anyway,“ he says. “You don’t really realize how much it’s getting to you until you’re out of there.“
Trine closes her eyes again, her breath shaky. “Yeah. I do have to think about this,“ she says. “So what are you thinking? Find a motel on the road?“
I smile at her, shaking my head. “No,“ I say. “Don’t worry. We can do better than that.“
We can. Since we’re still around Orlando, there are plenty of nice hotels, and it doesn’t take much research to get to one and find a room quickly. The place is really fancy, an artificial waterfall behind the lobby.
As always, I make sure to get an individual room for everyone. We’ve shared a hotel room before. It was something we had to do a lot when we first started the business. If I can help it, it’s not something I want to do again.
We get four rooms, two across two on the seventh floor. After Woods and Salinas say good night, I watch Trine go into her room and fumble for my own keycard in my pocket. I notice footsteps coming toward me after only a few seconds, and I wonder what she needs as she lingers right outside the door.
She’s clearly thinking about whether to open it or not, since I know she’s pacing right outside. I can hear it.
When I hear footsteps recede, I press the keycard against the handle. I’m about to go into my room when I hear Trine’s door open a bit. I stop, waiting for her to make the first move. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
But when I realize that she’s about to move back and close the door, I have to stop her.
“Trine,“ I say.
She pauses. “Sorry,“ she says, her voice shaky and muffled from the door. I can’t see her, but I’m not an idiot. I can tell she’s upset. She sounds like she’s on the verge of crying. “I don’t know what I’m doing.“
“It’s okay,“ I say. “You can open the door.“
She hesitates for a second then does as I tell her, the door creaking on its hinges as she opens it very slowly.
From the small crack left by the door, I can see the outline of her face in the dark, her eyes glimmering. She meets my gaze, brown eyes watery, and my heart flips in my chest.
“Are you okay?“ I ask. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Stupid question.“
Her mouth falls open as she sighs heavily. “I don’t think so,“ she says. “I think…I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t be alone right now. Do you want to come in?“
She opens the door entirely and as I look at her, my breath catches in my throat. She’s wearing a soft pink off-the-shoulder tank top that’s just long enough not to be a crop top, boy shorts clinging to her thighs. I let my gaze flit down to her curves just for a second, mostly because I know she needs emotional support right now.
I’m not supposed to be perving on her. It’s probably the last thing she needs. It’s difficult not to let my gaze wander down her body, even though I’m trying not to stare at the way her nipples poke through the fabric of her top.
When I look up at her face again, she’s shaking her head. “Forget it,“ she says. “This was a stupid idea.“
She’s about to close the door when I put my hand on it to stop her. “No,“ I say. “It wasn’t. I get it. We’ll talk.“
I mean it. I’m absolutely not having sex with her when she’s feeling like this, no matter how much I want to.
And fuck. I really, really want to.
But I won’t.
