Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Russ partially shut the bathroom door behind him, trying to steady his thoughts as he peeled off his clothes and changed into a pair of shorts. The dim light and quiet of the room only amplified the awareness simmering under his skin. After everything that had happened that night—the tension with Claire, the argument with Hillary, the strange alliance they’d formed with Madame Fournier—he’d expected to be exhausted. But as he glanced at his reflection, running a hand over his stubble, he felt restless instead.
He hated sleeping with a shirt on; it felt restrictive, and he needed to be comfortable if he was going to get any rest. Yet, as he pulled on his shorts and caught sight of the luxurious bed through the half-open bathroom door, he hesitated. He’d spent the past several nights sleeping wherever he could—cramped, dingy motel rooms with scratchy sheets and lumpy mattresses. But now, here was this massive, inviting bed with high thread-count sheets that looked as soft as clouds.
Still, he lingered, busying himself by folding his clothes neatly and adjusting his shorts as he tried to quiet the feeling of anticipation creeping over him. He wasn’t sure what Hillary expected tonight. They’d spent days in survival mode, barely thinking about anything but the next safe place to rest, and now, here they were, alone together in a room that seemed designed to make anyone feel more... intimate.
Finally, Hillary’s voice broke the silence. “Russ, what’s taking you so long?”
He glanced over to see her already in bed, nestled against the pillows with an expectant look. Her hair was loose, her face soft in the low light, and for a moment, he found himself rooted to the spot, admiring her without meaning to.
“This bed is amazing,” she said, shifting under the covers. “After all those nights in dank hotel rooms with scratchy blankets, this thread count feels like heaven.”
Russ chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can sleep on the floor if you’d be more comfortable.”
Hillary gave him a look, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. You have to get in this bed. We both deserve a decent place to sleep tonight. What do you think is going to happen?”
He hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers. “Think, or hope?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, carrying more weight than he’d intended. For a moment, the tension between them simmered in the air, unspoken but undeniable.
Hillary raised an eyebrow, her expression softening with a small, amused smile. “Get in the bed, Russ. You need sleep as much as I do.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Taking a breath, he moved to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers. The cool, soft sheets against his skin were better than he’d imagined. He settled in beside her, trying to ignore the awareness prickling along his skin from her closeness.
They lay there in silence for a moment, the quiet of the room amplifying the beat of his own pulse. Finally, Hillary turned on her side, her voice a soft murmur. “Thanks for agreeing to help Claire, Russ.”
“What exactly is your motive?” he asked, not trying to sound accusatory. He was genuinely curious.
“Motive? You make me sound calculated and manipulative.” She spun toward him and held up a finger. “Don’t you dare make a lawyer joke right now.”
“That was close,” he laughed. “I don’t think you’re either of those things. I was taken off guard by your agreement with Madame Fournier. I didn’t expect you to accept what she was saying so freely.”
“I didn’t,” Hillary corrected, the moonlight from the window lighting her face. “I learned a long time ago when a situation is complicated, your job isn’t to blow it up and hope it gets rebuilt. From the outside it might look like maybe they’d all be better off if it fell apart, got messy. But I’ve had those choices made for me before. It’s devastating. I look at the goal, and I move toward that.”
“What choices were made for you?” He kept his eyes locked on her face as she turned and stared up at the ceiling.
“That story I told Claire earlier, about my ex, that wasn’t some empty way to try to connect with her. I wasn’t sure if maybe she was dealing with a jerk she couldn’t handle.”
“You couldn’t handle a guy? I doubt that.”
“I wasn’t always the confident kick-ass woman you see today. I was very young and the part they don’t tell you when you start to date is you can’t really know when something has gone bad. It’s not milk. You can’t look at an expiration date or see that it’s chunky and know it’s time to pour it down the drain.”
“You should definitely write greeting cards. That’s a lovely analogy.” He tried to make her smile but she only blinked away some emotion. “Sorry, I make stupid jokes.”
“You really do.” Now she smiled. “But anyway I turned to my family and asked for help and they didn’t believe there was really a problem. It crushed me. He’d taken over my life. Isolated me. And really made me question my judgment. Eventually a friend came in and basically threw dynamite on the situation.”
“They made it worse?”
“No, she literally blew up his car. She was crazy. But I love her.” Hillary laughed and shook her head. “But I didn’t need someone to come complicate an already complicated situation. I needed a levelheaded person who believed me and cared about me to lead me out of that. The blowing up part of the situation really made it worse. It dragged on longer. It caused a lot of problems. I’m not looking to be the wrecking ball that frees Claire from the things that we think are wrong. But maybe we can help lead her out of it.”
“That’s really incredible,” Russ said, raising up on his elbow and looking down at her. “And I’m completely willing to do that. But if shit gets crazy, I will be lighting a fuse.”
“Fair enough,” Hillary agreed. “We can have plan A and plan B.” She yawned and nestled her head deeper into the lush pillow. “This bed is the best thing I’ve felt in ages.”
“You really need to stop setting me up for these jokes. I only have so much willpower.”
“I heard it as soon as I said it. You’re a strong man, I’m sure you can refrain from things that will get you in trouble.” Hillary closed her eyes and a smirk danced on her lips.
“For a little while,” he sighed. “But everyone has their breaking point.”