Chapter 36
My hotel roomis next to Renzo’s. One thin wall lined with floral wallpaper from the nineties separates us. One wall and a heartbreaking betrayal. If only one were as easily overcome as the other.
I’m relieved to finally be alone, though I also feel oddly out of sorts. Everything is so quiet and clean and spacious. The old me would have scoffed and called the place outdated, but it’s positively regal compared to where I’ve lived for the past three weeks. I’m almost overwhelmed with my options. I desperately want to shower, but the food we picked up is getting cold. I used the toilet at the hospital, so I’ve already basked in that particular delight.
I’m standing in the middle of the room debating what I should do when there’s a knock on the door. I jump a foot in the air, then chide myself. It’s so unlike me to be jittery. I don’t like it, nor do I understand it. I feel like I’ve been dropped in someone else’s body—someone else’s life—and nothing feels quite right.
My heart skips sporadically when I see Renzo on the other side of the door.
“I forgot. You’ll want to call your family.” He hands over the disposable phone we picked up at the drugstore.
For a second, I thought … I don’t know what I thought he’d come for, but that wasn’t it. And whatever it was, it not happening leaves me feeling empty inside. I choose not to examine my reactions. I simply don’t have the capacity.
“Thanks. I’ll bring it back when I’m done.”
He nods, pausing awkwardly before returning to his room. I put the odd interaction out of my mind along with my growling stomach because, for once today, I know exactly what I want to do.
My hand starts to shake as I dial my brother’s number. I may be close to my cousin Conner, but Oran would never forgive me if I didn’t call him first. True to form, he answers after a single ring.
“Yes?”
“Hey, big brother. Remember me?” I joke when I’m emotional—it’s what I do—and I’m suddenly engulfed in more emotion than I can process.
Oran is the opposite of me. He can be charming, but I wouldn’t call him playful. And when he’s upset, his intensity level goes through the roof.
All I hear over the line is a swift intake of air.
“Shae? Is it really you?” he finally says in a voice so heart-wrenchingly childlike, all attempts at composure fall to the floor.
The tears hit me so fast and hard that I can’t breathe. I’m nodding, and I know I need to say something, so I force in a gulp of air and squeak a single word past the vise around my throat. “Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ … Shae.” My name, so often spoken in a tone of frustration, is pure exaltation from my brother’s lips. “Shae butter, where are you?”
His childhood nickname for me brings a shaky smile to my lips and a bonus round of tears to my eyes. I hated it when he started to call me that after learning there was such a thing as shea butter. He thought it was hilarious. Me, not so much. I’ll happily take the reminder now of those innocent days in our lives.
“I’m in Quebec. A little town called L’Ascension.”
“Canada?” he says in surprise. “How the hell did you end up in Canada?”
“It’s too long of a story to tell you over the phone. I assume you guys figured out that Renzo and I were taken?”
“We did, but we didn’t know much else. None of it made sense. If they had killed you, why hide it? And why hadn’t we received a ransom request if they”d taken you?”
“Again, it’s a long story that led us to a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere. It’s taken Renzo and I this long to get to safety.” Two weeks longer than necessary. I don’t tell him that part because it’s not any of his business. I’m not sure how I feel about what Renzo did, but I do know that I don’t want my family to judge him for it.
“Jesus,” Oran breathes across the line.
“Oh, it gets much more interesting, trust me. We’re safe now, though, and Renzo said he’s got his family working on getting us back across the border. We don’t have our passports and don’t want to get stuck waiting on red tape.”
“Definitely not. I’ll get with the Morettis and offer our help. We’ve already been in regular contact while looking for you guys.”
“Thanks, O,” I say softly.
He’s quiet for several ticks of the clock. “I can’t believe it’s really you. I can’t believe you’re coming home.”
“Psh, like you could get rid of me that easily.”
I can’t see his smile through the phone, but I can feel it just as sure as I can feel my own heart beating.
“Thank God. Things are awfully boring around here without you keeping us on our toes.”
“Whatever, you’ll be rolling your eyes at me in no time once I’m back.” A grin finally lights my face and warms my heart. This feels good. Normal. I could use a big fat dose of normal.
“Let’s hope so. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Love you, Oran. See you soon.”
“Love you, too. Be safe until then.”
“Always.”
The call ends, its bolstering effects infusing me with renewed energy and optimism. Things may not be ideal, but I get to see my family soon. That’s the best gift I could receive.
Food and a shower are a close second and third. I set down the phone and dive into the white paper bag full of caloric goodness. However, things quickly sour. Turns out when you eat fast food after three weeks of meat and veggies, your stomach decides she’s a little diva and can’t tolerate such filth.
A burger and fries never tasted so good or sat so heavy in my gut.
I need to shower. That will make everything better.
I get the water started and strip out of my clothes. We should have thought ahead and bought something to wear while we were out, but it’s too late for that. Hopefully, I can get housekeeping to wash them because there’s no way in hell I’m putting them back on until they’ve been thoroughly scrubbed, and even then, only because I have no other choice. Every stitch of fabric at my feet is going in the garbage the second I’m home. Along with a match and some gasoline.
I’m about to step into the shower when I lock eyes with myself in the mirror. I was too mortified to look at the mirror in the hospital bathroom, knowing all the people around me were having to smell me. The mental image made it all worse, so I avoided looking, but I’m alone now, and I take in the shocking sight before me.
I knew I’d lost weight, but I’m shocked at the gaunt face staring back at me. This confirms it. I did switch bodies with someone. It’s the only explanation because I don’t recognize my own reflection.
I take in the image of me from the waist up, then try to shut it out of my mind. I’m about to shower, and nothing is going to ruin that.
I inhale a deep steamy breath of air and smile as I step in.
There’s nothing quite like an orgasm, but if there was, it would be the feel of hot water pelting your body after three weeks with only a cold, wet rag for bathing.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
That’s the only way I know how to describe it. There are no other words.
I rotate every so often to let the water scour my front, then my back, and so on. Then I scrub. Every square inch of skin gets lathered in hibiscus perfection. Twice.
I shave my overgrown body hair, thanks to a disposable razor from housekeeping when we checked in, then I stand in the shower so long that I wonder if it’s possible for a hotel to run out of hot water. If so, I have to be pushing that limit. I have zero guilt. I figure I’m using my three weeks’ worth of showers in one.
When I finally turn off the spray and dry off, it’s only because I’m dead on my feet exhausted. I go right to the bed after brushing my teeth and start to slide under the mounds of puffy linens when I see the burner phone on my nightstand. I told Renzo I’d bring it back to him and completely forgot about it.
I stare at the phone. He might need to talk to his people about getting us home. I need to get it back to him.
My gaze warily turns back to the bathroom, where I left my putrid clothes piled. There’s no way. I can’t possibly make myself put those rank, filthy rags back on.
Hell.
I yank the quilted duvet off the bed and wrap it around me as securely as I can without letting it drag on the floor, then I grab the phone and head to Renzo’s room.