Chapter 4
Four
I WILL NEVER LOSE CONTROL LIKE THAT AGAIN.
WYATT
The first thing I feel is heat.
The second thing I feel is pain.
My shoulder’s a mess—taped, throbbing, and stiff. My stomach is a tight fist, nausea curling low and mean as my head aches like it’s trapped in a vice.
I open my eyes.
A hotel room. The ceiling is off-white and cracked. The wallpaper has a gold stripe in it. The smell of lavender and hairspray clings to the air.
This isn’t my room. I freeze. My pulse spikes hard enough to hurt.
I have no memory of how I got here.
I sit up too fast. My vision flashes white at the edges. The movement sends pain shooting through my shoulder, but I don’t care.
I need air.
My boots are at the foot of the bed—but my shirt’s missing. I push my hand in the pocket of my jeans, the key card’s gone too.
I swallow hard as I notice a tube of lipstick on the nightstand.
There was a woman.
I curse out loud.
The room spins as I try to stitch together the night before— Jake offering whiskey, a phone call, maybe two.
After that… nothing.
Panic slams into me so fast it feels like drowning.
Whose room is this? What did I do?
I press my head into my hands, breathing through the sickness rising in my gut.
This—this fog, this blank space, this bed that isn't mine—is my worst nightmare.
My gear’s not here. My wallet’s not on the nightstand. This is why I don’t mess with drugs or drinking—anything to make me lose control.
I move slowly and take my hat from the dresser. I’ve no idea where my shirt is and right now, I don’t care. Opening the door, I stick my head into the hallway.
Empty. I sigh with relief and make my way down the hall.
Everything smells like carpet cleaner and stale beer.
I breathe through my nose and walk fast but careful, not wanting to draw attention.
I pass a mirror by the elevators and barely recognize myself—hair wild, jaw clenched, bruise blooming purple down my collarbone.
I jab the button and pray no one else is riding down. “Stupid,” I whisper. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
The elevator dings and I step inside, hat clutched to my ribs, heart trying to crawl out my throat.
Downstairs, the lobby is mostly empty. A few early risers getting coffee. Some cowboy I don’t recognize watching the news. I keep my head low, avoid eye contact and move straight to the counter.
The woman behind it doesn’t blink when she sees me. “Room number?”
“Two-twenty-four,” I rasp. My head’s clearing with each passing second. I can work backward from the pills, just not what happened after that. She checks something, grabs a fresh keycard, slides it across the counter. “Lost the original?” Her gaze dips to my bare chest and back up.
“Something like that.”
She nods and I’m off, taking the stairs. Two flights. Every step sends a jolt through my shoulder. By the time I reach the hallway, I’m shaking. I slide the key and the door opens.
Jake’s inside, passed out on the second bed, boots still on, one arm over his eyes, snoring soft and steady. My gear is stacked neatly in the corner—hat can, duffel, gear bag. Relief hits so hard it almost drops me.
I close the door behind me, crash on the bed as the pain in my shoulder flares. But it’s nothing compared to the regret aching in my chest.
Never again.
Not just the pills. Not just the girl. The whole night. The blank space where memory should be. The weight of waking up in a bed that wasn’t mine. I will never lose control like that again.
No matter what.
I climb to my feet and move toward the sink to rinse out my mouth and splash water on my face.
In the mirror, my reflection looks like a man who lost a fight.
But there’s still something behind the eyes—something hard, something alive.
When I finally turn toward the bed, Jake rolls over, half awake, one eye open. “You good?” he mutters.
“Yeah” I say, ready to put this all behind me.
He grunts and pulls the blanket over his head. I pull on a clean shirt and head for the door. I need food.
As I step into the hallway, I tell myself this day’s already seen the worst of me. I glance down the hall toward the elevators—toward the world outside.
What if Kinsley’s still in town?
There was something about her. Something different, but after last night, the last thing I need is another woman in my life.
It’s time to head home, heal up, and then get out of my hometown as soon as possible.