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The walk is short, and we reach the motel. She walks with me up to my room. It’s quiet, and I don’t know how to backtrack to make this less awkward. Before I can overthink it, Charlie reaches out and pulls me into a bear hug.
“See you tomorrow, bestie!”
She releases me as suddenly as she grabbed me. I watch her walk away, wondering who these people are and what I did to deserve them.
Chapter 19
Themotelalarmclockblares me awake. Three-thirty in the morning isfartoo early to wake up, but I find myself smiling as I open my eyes. I lay in bed, thinking of everything that had happened yesterday.
Baking and making coffee isn’t the life I ever pictured for myself, and neither is living in a motel, but as I glance around the older motel room, I can’t help thinking this isn’t so bad.
Missing Adalyn seems to be the biggest issue I have right now and one I have yet to find a way around. I wish I could call her, hear her voice. I know she must be worried sick about me, and I want her to know I’m okay and safe.
And as much as I’dloveto forget my past life exists, it would be irresponsible of me to do so. Learning what’s happening back in Sacramento and what Christopher has told people would be in my best interest.
On the one hand, I couldn’t give a damn what he tells anyone and what they’d think. On the other, it could somehow come to bite me in the ass, and I should just prepare for anything at this point.
With an eye roll, I throw the blanket back, sit up, and head for the shower. The hot water sooths my body, but my mind is another story. After showering, I dress for the day while making a mental list of things I still need to buy.
Clothing is certainly a priority. I have next to nothing, only a few things to rotate. A phone is also a necessity. Now that I’m working, they could need me to come in at other times or to cover. A prepaid phone would be good because I could get one using my fake name. No need for social security numbers.
Studying myself in the mirror, I notice the bruising on my throat is fading. My under eyes aren’t quite as dark as they were after my long train ride either. Looking at my hair, I twirl a lock around my finger, wondering if I should cut it once the bruising heals. Change may be good, and the thought makes me smile.
The sound of a loud truck driving by yanks me back to the present, and I realize I’ve spent too much time in la-la land. I blow dry my hair, apply makeup to my faceandneck, and secure my scarf firmly in place before heading to the café.
As I walk down the lonely sidewalk, Jack comes to mind. I can still see his perfect blue eyes in my mind. The thought is sweet and makes me smile before it all crashes to the ground, ripping a traumatic shiver out of me. Icannotbelieve I told him I wanted to paint them.
Groaning, I wince at that part of the memory.
But then I think of how my hands felt against his chest—his firm, powerful chest. Pausing and standing still, I shake my head and squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, wincing twice at that thought.
Get yourself together, Andrea… Andi… Whatever the hell my name is right now.
I need to get myself together. Seriously. What kind of stupidity is this? As I go down the list, I feel painfully foolish.
It wasn’t a few years, a year, or even several months since my fiancé nearly choked me to death with his bare hands. It’s beendays.The bruising is still fresh, for crying out loud!
I’m in a brand-new town, and I haven’t even acclimated yet.
Which brings me to my next point—I don’t even have a place to live!I’m pseudo-homeless. I live in a damn motel, and if I don’t make enough money, that pseudo-homelessness could very well turn intoallthe way homelessness. I can see it now. “Yes, hi… hello… Let me woo you Mr. Sexy-Eyed Detective Man with my bruises, quasi-homelessness, and the same clothes I wore two days ago and washed in my bathroom sink and hung in the shower to dry. When shall we send out wedding invitations?”Ugh. Pathetic.
Speaking of clothes, even if the rest weren’t true, I don’t have a damn thing to wear on a date.
Dear lord. What a catch! How could anyone resist?
I have next to nothing beyond my hope for a better life ahead. That means Icannotstart crushing on the local detective… Or anyone else!
Charlie is approaching the front door of the café from the parking lot as I near. Her car is a fire red mustang. Why the hell did she walk me home yesterday when she has a car?
My questioning thoughts are interrupted when she speaks.
“Morning, bestie,” she says with a wide grin.
I match it. “Morning.” I point over to her car, “did you drive yesterday?” I was so absorbed with it being my first day that I didn’t notice.
She shrugs her shoulders, seeming to know where my question is leading. “Yep, but I felt up for a walk before going home.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. She’s trying to get to know me, and I could use a friend, but I have to be careful. She can’t know too much.
