Chapter 6 #3
"Trish," he says, reaching for me, but I step back.
"I need some air," I announce, grabbing my key card from the bedside table. "Don't wait up."
I'm out the door before he can respond, my feet carrying me across the motel parking lot toward the only place still lit up in this tiny town, the high school football stadium. The sound of cheering reaches me as I approach, the game apparently still in progress despite the late hour.
I pay the entrance fee automatically, not really caring about the game, but needing somewhere to clear my head, to process the roller coaster of emotions of the past hour.
The bleachers are packed with enthusiastic fans dressed in the home team's blue and gold colors. I find a spot at the far end, away from the main crowd, and sit down, watching without really seeing as teenage boys crash into each other on the field below.
Jake had a professional reason to be heading to Foxfire Valley. To Jordyn's wedding. The revelation shouldn't bother me as much as it does. After all, it makes perfect sense that a high-profile wedding would have security. And it's not like Jake lied to me, he just omitted certain details.
But combined with his cryptic comments about "complications" and his reluctance to take our physical relationship further, the revelation casts everything in a different light. Is his attraction to me genuine? Or is it a calculated part of maintaining my cooperation during our journey?
The home team scores a touchdown, and the crowd erupts around me, momentarily pulling me from my thoughts. As the cheering subsides, someone sits beside me on the bleacher.
"You're not much of a football fan, are you?" asks a deep voice that isn't Jake's.
I turn to find a middle-aged man in a Basic Plaines coaching jacket watching me with friendly curiosity. "Is it that obvious?"
He laughs. "Well, our team just scored the winning touchdown in the biggest game of the season, and you didn't even blink."
"Sorry," I say, attempting a smile. "Just a lot on my mind."
"Passing through?" he guesses. "Not many visitors stop in Basic Plaines unless they have to."
"Just for the night," I confirm. "On my way to Nevada."
"Long drive," he comments. "Alone?"
The question sends up a small warning flag, making me suddenly aware of how isolated I am from the main crowd. "No," I say firmly. "My... partner is back at the motel. Expecting me soon."
The man nods, seeming to accept this without suspicion. "Well, enjoy your stay, brief as it is. Not much to see in Basic Plaines, but we're proud of what we have." He gestures toward the celebrating team. "Mostly this."
"I can see why," I say politely. "They seem very... enthusiastic."
He laughs again, standing up. "That's one word for it. Have a safe trip to Nevada."
As he moves away, I realize the game is ending.
Fans are beginning to file out of the stadium.
I should head back to the motel, face Jake, and the uncomfortable conversation that awaits.
But the thought of returning to that small room, filled with the lingering tension of our interrupted moment, makes my stomach twist.
My phone buzzes with a text. Jake.
Jake: Where are you? It's not safe to be out alone in an unfamiliar town.
The concern would be touching if I wasn't still annoyed with him.
Me: At the football game. I'm fine. Need space to think.
Three dots appear immediately, then disappear, then appear again.
Jake: I understand. Take your time. But please be careful coming back. I'll wait up.
Despite my irritation, warmth blooms in my chest at his message. Even now, his first priority is my safety. It's both infuriating and endearing.
I stay at the stadium until the crowd has mostly dispersed, the excitement of the home team's victory fading into the quiet of the late Kansas night.
When I finally make my way back to the motel, the parking lot is dark except for the flickering neon of the sign and a single light visible through the curtains of our room.
Jake is waiting up, just as he promised.
I open the door to find him sitting at the small desk, still dressed, clearly on high alert despite the late hour. He stands when I enter, relief evident in his expression.
"You didn't need to wait up," I say, though we both know it's not true. Of course, he waited up.
"Yes, I did," he replies simply.
We stand on opposite sides of the room, the bed between us like a no-man's-land neither is willing to cross first.
"I should have told you about the security contract earlier," he says finally. "I'm sorry for withholding that information."
The apology is unexpected, and it takes some of the wind out of my indignation. "Why didn't you?"
"Professional habit," he admits. "The less people know about security operations, the more effective they are. And initially, you were just a passenger. I didn't anticipate..." He gestures vaguely between us.
"This," I supply. "Whatever this is."
"Yes. This."
I sink onto the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted.
"I don't even know what 'this' is, Jake.
One minute you're kissing me like your life depends on it, the next you're pulling back and talking about complications.
Then I find out you're working security for my best friend's wedding, which means we were always heading to the same place for entirely different reasons. It's a lot to process."
He approaches cautiously, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. "I know. And I'm not handling it well. But my attraction to you is real, Trish. So is my concern for your wellbeing. Those aren't part of any professional calculation."
I want to believe him. Despite the complications, despite the brief time we've known each other, despite the warning bells sounding in my head, I want to believe Jake is telling me the truth.
"So, what happens now?" I ask, too tired for games or further evasion.
"Now, we get some sleep," he says pragmatically. "It's late, and we have another long drive tomorrow."
"And after that? When we reach Nevada? When the wedding is over and your security contract is fulfilled?"
He looks at me directly, his expression more open than I've seen it since we met. "That depends on what you want, Trish. What are you looking for?"
It's a fair question, one I'm not sure I have an answer to yet. "I don't know," I admit. "I didn't exactly plan to develop feelings for my ride share driver."
The confession slips out before I can censor it. Jake's expression softens, something warm and surprised flickering in his eyes.
"Feelings," he repeats, as if testing the word.
"Don't make me say it again," I mutter, embarrassment heating my cheeks. "It's been a long day, and I'm not thinking clearly."
"No, you're not," he agrees, but there's no dismissal in his tone. "Neither of us is. Which is why we should sleep now and talk more tomorrow. When we've both had time to process."
It's the rational approach, of course. The controlled approach. Pure Jake Winters logic. And as much as I want to argue, to push for resolution tonight, I know he's right.
"Fine," I concede. "But you're taking the bed. I refuse to be responsible for your back pain tomorrow if you sleep on that floor."
"We can share," he says, surprising me. "Just to sleep," he adds quickly. "The bed is big enough, and we're both adults. As you pointed out earlier."
"Are you sure?"
"No," he says with unexpected honesty. "But I'm willing to try. For you."
The simple admission touches me more deeply than any grand gesture could have. "Okay," I say softly. "Thank you."
We prepare for bed in awkward silence, taking turns in the bathroom, carefully maintaining distance as we slide under the covers from opposite sides. Though it's impossible to ignore his presence beside me, the heat radiating from his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing.
"Goodnight, Trish," he says into the darkness.
"Goodnight, Jake," I reply, turning onto my side, facing away from him to resist the temptation to reach out.
Sleep seems impossible with him so close yet so deliberately distant. But the events of the day catch up with me faster than expected, and I find myself drifting off despite the tumultuous emotions still swirling inside me.
The last thing I register before sleep claims me completely is the gentle weight of Jake's hand coming to rest in the space between us, not quite touching me, but there. An offering. A possibility.
A bridge across the no-man's-land of the bed.
I wake to the gentle rumble of Jake's truck and the changing landscape outside my window.
Somehow, I've slept through our morning departure from Basic Plaines--packing, checkout, Jake's inevitable coffee run, getting into the truck, all of it lost to exhaustion after yesterday's emotional rollercoaster.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Jake says, glancing at me as I straighten in my seat. "We've been on the road for almost three hours."
I blink, disoriented. "Three hours? Why didn't you wake me? How did I get into the van?"
"You needed the rest, and I carried you." His eyes return to the road, but there's a softness in his profile I haven't seen before. "And you're less argumentative when you're sleeping."
I snort, stretching my arms overhead as much as the truck cab allows. "Very funny. Where are we?"
"About to cross into Colorado. I rerouted us slightly. We're going to stop in Rustic Junction for the night."
"Rustic Junction?" I check my phone, finding a string of missed texts from Jordyn. "That wasn't on the original itinerary."
"It's on Route 14," he explains, "and the accommodations are better than what we'd find if we stuck to our planned route."
I study him, trying to decipher if this detour has a deeper purpose. "You just decided this while I was sleeping?"
"I made a few calls this morning before we left Basic Plaines." He hesitates. "I booked a room at the Rustic Love Hotel."
"A room," I repeat, emphasizing the singular. "As in, one room?"
"With two beds," he clarifies quickly. "I thought after last night... it seemed practical. Unless you'd prefer separate rooms?"
The question hangs between us. Last night's kiss, the almost-more-than-a-kiss, the revelations about his security contract, all of it simmers beneath this seemingly mundane travel adjustment.
"One room is fine," I say finally. "We're adults. We can handle sleeping in the same space without combusting."
His lips twitch. "Speak for yourself."
The unexpected humor catches me off guard, drawing a genuine laugh from me that seems to please him.
We reach Rustic Junction as sunset paints the mountains in gold and crimson. The town is exactly what its name suggests, a carefully maintained Old West tourist attraction, complete with wooden boardwalks, saloon facades, and staff in period costumes.
"This is... something else," I say as Jake parks in front of the Rustic Love Hotel, which manages to maintain the frontier theme while still looking surprisingly upscale.
"Wait until you see the staged gunfights," Jake replies with that hint of a smile I'm beginning to crave. "Happens twice daily in the town square."
Our room continues the Western motif with cowhide rugs, rustic wood furniture, and vintage-looking fixtures, but with modern amenities and, as promised, two queen beds with a respectable distance between them.
"Definitely an upgrade from Basic Plaines," I comment, dropping my overnight bag on one of the beds.
Jake places his duffel on the other bed, his movements precise and controlled as always. "Hungry? The Guns Blazing Saloon supposedly serves decent steaks."
"Lead the way, cowboy," I reply with more lightness than I've felt since our kiss. "I'm starving."
The evening unfolds like something from a travel brochure, we watch a surprisingly entertaining shootout performance, eat genuinely good steaks at the saloon, and wander the main street as lamplight replaces the fading sun.
By the time we return to our room, a tentative truce seems to have formed between us.
The awkwardness of Basic Plaines hasn't disappeared, but it's transmuted into something more manageable, a mutual agreement to enjoy this strange liminal space between Kansas and Nevada, between strangers and something more.
As I prepare for bed, I catch Jake watching me with an unguarded expression that makes my heart stutter.
Tomorrow will bring us one day closer to Foxfire Valley, one day closer to professional complications and difficult decisions.
But tonight, in this fake frontier town with its real mountain views, I'll let myself enjoy the unexpected detour this journey has become.
I just hope I don't wake up in his arms. Or maybe, secretly, I hope I do.