The Heartbreak Hotel (Sandy Springs #1)

Chapter Six

Riley

Riley swung gently side to side, her body cradled by the hammock. Aside from the faint fairy lights hanging over her cabin door at the top of the path, darkness enveloped her. Her gaze passed over the speckled stars in the sky, and she let out a heavy breath, disturbing her cat Ziggy, who was lying on her chest. He meowed, stretching out his legs and scratching his nails up Riley’s stomach.

“Sorry, Zigs,” she whispered, running her fingers through his soft orange fur. Gentle purrs rumbled in his throat, and he rolled over. The hammock was a Ziggy magnet.

The sweet aroma of the strawberry tree caught on the breeze, and with a deep breath, Riley turned her attention back to the night sky. An iridescent crescent moon made the hue a deep, intense black, the moonlight reflecting on the ocean waves.

Sleep had eluded her again. It always did this time of year, but normally, stargazing and meditating helped. Caught in a stare with the tar-like sky, her mind buzzed as though the nearby crickets had crawled right inside her skull. Cuddling Ziggy eased it a little but didn’t quite calm the storm weathering in her chest. The nightmares had come thick and fast tonight, forcing her up and out of her bed.

The screeching of tyres, Elodie’s high-pitched scream, the crunching and cracking of metal. The boy’s crying. She didn’t have to close her eyes to see the damage. It cast itself onto the sky above her like a projector, morphing the constellations to reenact her dreams. The blood, the debris, the flashing sirens. The memories still made Riley’s stomach sick.

She knew it would pass eventually, and patience was key to bringing her mind back to balance. But Riley was tired; tonight, she just wanted it to stop.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she focused on her breathing, trying to take her attention away from the intrusive thoughts. “ Observe them, and then let them pass. Focus on your breathing. ” Senhor Arenoso’s voice echoed through her brain. “You’ll be okay. ”

But the images still burned behind her eyelids.

A swirl of red hair joined the mix, a lifeless body rolling through the waves. Saving Ella had flared up some old memories, blurring the lines between past and present. She opened her eyes, but Ella’s face remained, floating above her in the starry sky.

She couldn’t think about Ella now as well. Clearly, immersing herself in nature wasn’t working.

She scooped Ziggy up into her arms, breathing in his comforting scent, and carried him up the path to her cabin. Once inside, she laid him on the blue bedspread, and he flopped onto his back, exposing his white fluffy tummy. Riley half-smiled, giving the soft fur a tickle, before turning her attention to the bookshelf beside the bed.

Her chest tightened when her eyes locked on one particular album. She hesitated, but the urge compelling her forced her feet to move. The album’s thick spine was worn and creased by time, but Riley couldn’t look away. She’d been fighting the impulse for days.

She pulled it out and thumbed through the pages. Elodie’s pale face smiled back at her, posing on their bed, selfies of the two of them kissing in Barcelona and Madrid, Elodie’s dark hair caressed by the wind. Each happy photo of them together twisted her guts tighter and tighter into a ball.

What am I doing?

Recounting a painful trip down memory lane wasn’t going to help her. Marco Marcos would have a fit if he knew. Falling into these bad habits went against a lot of philosophies she held close. She’d tell the clients in the course that they needed to break the cycle, not to dwell on what they knew caused them pain, not to give up on the breathing techniques she’d practised with Ella yesterday.

But Riley was a hypocrite.

Her gaze combed over cinema tickets and faded receipts, blurry Polaroid pictures from their trips to Amsterdam and Paris. Riley never cared much for the city breaks and drinking, but somehow, she didn’t mind when it came to Elodie.

But Elodie would roll her eyes if she could see her now. She’d never understood the need to keep “pointless junk” and would question the reasons for Riley taking random mementos from their dates—but this just proved Riley’s point. Without this album—without all of these things—it would be as though the two of them never even occupied the same space. As if Elodie wasn’t the love of her life.

It had been years since she’d seen or even heard from her, but that didn’t stop the fresh, familiar pain from sliding into her chest and squeezing around her heart, like it always did this time of year. How quickly they’d gone from soulmates to strangers was something no amount of time could help her understand. Her new thoughts about Ella only seemed to exacerbate the guilt.

She and Elodie had been together for most of their twenties, until that night coming back from Elodie’s parents’ house changed everything .

One minute, they had their whole future ahead of them. The next, their lives were never the same.

The car accident was the catalyst but not the figurative nail in their coffin. Their relationship couldn’t withstand all the aftermath. The media, the court-case, how Elodie turned to the bottle instead of her for support…. Riley couldn’t save someone who wasn’t willing to help themselves. She knew this—she saw it proven day after day at work—but still, she couldn’t help but feel responsible for how things had ended between them. Ultimately, she wasn’t enough.

Would it be the same with Ella?

Her head spun, Elodie and Ella tumbling together in a tangled mess. She slammed the photo album shut, kicked it away with her foot, and dragged herself to the kitchen cupboard. She rummaged around, yanking out half-empty bottles of vegetable oil and condiments until she found the bottle she needed at the back and pulled it out.

She poured the whisky into a glass, swirling it before taking a sip. The rich, smoky taste coated her tongue, and she winced. Riley hated the stuff. It reminded her too much of her Irish father.

But needs must.

She took a bigger gulp, eyes watering as a splutter caught in her throat. “Jesus.” She could hear the sharp twang of her father’s tone in her ears, almost see his thick head of grey hair as he sat at the bar in the living room with some of his poker buddies. She tried to mask her own accent the best she could—any reminders of her childhood just brought on uncomfortable conversations—but some other habits were harder to erase.

A montage of memories bombarded her, images of picking up a drunken Elodie from the bathroom tiles, sick in her hair. Then an angry father, trashing her house, slurring his words like missiles. She drained the glass then poured out another, cradling it to her chest as she strolled across the wooden floor. Drinking only made her feel worse, but tonight, she couldn’t stop.

A meow made her pause and turn. Ziggy lay twisted into a shape that couldn’t possibly be comfy, but his green eyes were trained on her.

“You’re not judging me, are you, Zigs?”

He blinked, then decided to clean himself. I’ll take that as a no.

She approached her canvas. The black hole at the centre swirled outwards in aggressive swipes, curling in swift movements towards the edges.

She took another swig from her glass, relishing the warmth in her belly, and picked up her brush. Her thoughts filtered into the strokes, hard straight lines, blues and reds and purple. She drank again and painted more, until her heart hammered against her ribcage, and she took a step back to admire her work. The whirlpool had taken shape, the layers of colours adding depth and highlights, but her eye was drawn to the small faceless person, tiptoeing around the edge, about to fall into the hole.

How poetic .

She finished her drink with a gasp, leaning forward as the sensation rushed to her head.

You’re just as bad as Elodie.

Her thoughts tried to overwhelm her, but the booze provided a velvety barrier. Yes, her breathing was ragged, and her behaviour was questionable, but as Riley straightened to take in the painting before her, pride swelled in her chest. Seeing the inner turmoil on the canvas gave her a boost.

“Marco Marcos can’t say I’m not being proactive,” she murmured, adding touches of white to the waves.

“ Shame you’ll do nothing with ye life, ” her dad’s voice echoed, hand on the bottle, swaying in the doorway. “ Just runnin’ away like ye mam. ”

“Oh, shut it, Da.” Riley laughed at the slur in her voice. If only she could say those words to him now. She could imagine the way his lip would quiver and his eyes would darken, but she wouldn’t be scared. She’d just say it again, louder.

Okay, that’s enough whisky tonight.

Guilt swam into her stomach. Senhor Arenoso would be disappointed if he knew. Riley had a feeling the guru already suspected she wasn’t doing as well as she said she was. He had a talent for such things and had already checked on her twice this week. Jane had, too.

Riley sighed. She’d blown Jane off a few times, not up to having company, but she needed to be better. She would be happy-go-lucky Riley in the morning. She just needed to sleep off this alcohol and let the sun warm her bare skin. She just needed the anniversary to pass. Then she’d be fine again, just like she always was.

And being fine was better than the alternative. Riley had seen the other side, and she wouldn’t follow in Elodie’s footsteps. Or her dad’s.

Tonight hadn’t been great, but she’d get back up and try again. She just needed to refocus and recentre. Clear her head of Elodie- and Ella-related things.

She sighed again, allowing her mind to wander. Ella’s teasing smile popped into her mind, followed by the cackle of her laughter, and the funny dance she did after being pulled from the water. It was true, the redhead was cute, but she was also unpredictable. Ella would invite chaos into Riley’s life—look at everything that had happened so far. That was the opposite of what Riley wanted. She needed balance. Peace. Quiet.

Her job and life here gave her that. She couldn’t jeopardise them, especially when she was already teetering around the edge of a whirlpool, trying not to fall in. Who was she kidding? She was in no place to pursue anything—even if she was, any sort of relationship with a client was seriously off-limits. If she lost her job, she didn’t know what she’d do.

It wasn’t as if she could go back to Ireland.

Riley needed to keep her distance. No matter how attractive the curvy redhead might be, or how intriguing her fiery personality seemed, appearances could be deceiving. She had to remember that.

She couldn’t let a silly crush get in the way of her progress.