Chapter 21 Sierra
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
sierra
PRESENT DAY
After dropping off the horses, we pulled into the hotel just after dark.
Thirteen-hour drives were not for the weak, even with the breaks we took.
Honestly, I was a little bit in awe that I had been able to make those types of drives alone.
I’d discovered recently that there was only so much of my own internal monologue I could take before I began to go crazy.
It started to make a lot more sense why Hayden and his friends all traveled together.
Being on the road could be lonely, so having a travel partner helped.
We parked the pickup and trailer in the lot next to the hotel and hauled all our bags—well, mostly my bags—into the lobby.
The front desk receptionist barely looked up from her phone as we approached the counter.
Hayden cleared his throat to get her attention. “Excuse me?”
She slowly lowered her phone, looking up at us through thick-rimmed glasses. “Yes? How can I help you?”
“We have a reservation. Under Watkins. For a double queen room.”
The receptionist—Lydia, her tag read—tapped on her keyboard and clicked her mouse a few times before humming an acknowledgment.
“Ah, yes. Right here. If you could sign and initial this for me. It’s just our smoking and pet policies.
Please write down the make and model of your vehicle as well in case we need you to move it.
You’ll be on the third floor. Wi-Fi is listed on the inside here, and breakfast is served from six to ten every morning. ”
Hayden set the pen back down on the counter, taking the room keys from Lydia.
“Thank you so much.” He tilted his head toward the hallway where Lydia pointed out the elevator, then hauled one of my duffels over his shoulder with ease, despite complaining about the weight when we were in Silver Creek.
My mouth gaped, and I had to stop myself from the worst thing that could possibly happen: drooling. What happened to the lanky kid I grew up with?
Not only did he grow up, but the man also grew muscle.
“Are you coming?” He glanced over his shoulder, amusement tinting his voice.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stumbled over my words—and my feet—as I grabbed my remaining bags and followed him to the elevator.
The elevator door dinged, and we stepped inside, silence enveloping us. Neither of us spoke as Hayden tapped the third floor button and the doors closed. My eyes flicked over to him, but he stood facing forward as the motor whirred, lifting us two floors at a snail’s pace.
This had to have been the most awkward elevator ride I’d ever been on, and for why? Hayden and I were two friends who happened to be sharing a hotel room—and twelve years of history. No big deal.
The doors couldn’t open fast enough, and I exited the elevator as quickly as humanly possible, taking a sharp right down the hall toward our room. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a key, so I had to wait for Hayden to catch up.
Don’t make this trip more awkward than it has to be, Sierra. Dammit!
It was all Hayden’s fault. Hayden and his stupid adult muscles and his stupid memory of us as teenagers.
Argh! It turned out I was not the cool girl I thought I was. At least not when it came to Hayden Watkins. Never when it came to him.
The one thing that could make this whole sharing a room situation worse was if the hotel had a mishap and there was only one bed.
I closed my eyes, opening only one as the lock clicked and Hayden opened the door. Peering past the door, I let out a deep sigh of relief.
There are two beds. Thank fucking God.
“You okay over there?” Hayden raised his brows, the right corner of his lips turning up slightly.
Sweat made my palms sticky as I let out a nervous laugh, unable to stop the word vomit from spewing out. “Yeah, I’m great. Why wouldn’t I be? This is perfectly fine. Everything is fine. I am totally cool.”
Yeah, because that was completely normal.
It was the damn fishing trip and then being in the car—alone—together for thirteen hours.
Factor in the diner, and my emotions were all over the place.
My brain didn’t know up from down or right from wrong at this point.
However, I’d give it a good night’s rest, and everything would be back to normal.
I could go back to ignoring the fact that I was living with the first boy I’d ever loved—the only boy I’d ever loved—and had somehow convinced myself that I could be just friends with him.
Yeah, maybe that was a bit fucking delusional on my part.
“Which bed do you want?” I asked, waiting for him to claim one before setting my bags on a bed and then immediately throwing myself on it afterward. Once I was down, there would be no moving me for the night.
“You can have the one by the window.” He gestured to the one furthest from the door.
I nodded, proceeding to do exactly as I planned and throwing my duffel on the foot of the bed.
Before I could plop down, though, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and groaned.
My roots were already starting to show. I didn’t want to do this tonight, but if I didn’t do it now, I feared I wouldn’t have time later.
Tearing open the zipper of my duffel, I pulled out the box of black hair dye and stomped to the bathroom.
“What’re you doing?” Hayden poked his head in as I started to rip into the box.
Pulling out the supplies, I sectioned my hair into four parts. “Dying my roots. If I don’t, then I’m going to look bald when the blonde grows back.”
“Ah.” He nodded, but I wasn’t sure he actually understood.
He was a guy, after all. I waited for the, I liked you better as a blonde comment to come, but it didn’t.
Instead, he said, “It’s a good color on you, Skip.
It brings out your eyes,” before vanishing around the corner again.
I heard the click of the television and the voices of whatever channel was on prior to Hayden turning on the TV.
The scent of chemicals wafted in the air as I mixed the dye, so I turned on the fan. I hated the smell of hair dye, but I hated my blonde hair even more. It reminded me too much of my childhood, and I thought black suited me better anyway.
Mom hummed as she ran the brush through my hair, long blonde strands falling delicately over my shoulders when she reached the ends.
I looked in the mirror in front of us, taking in both of our appearances.
Twin pairs of eyes—although hers were more bluish than green—stared back at me.
I had my father’s nose, but that was the only part of me that looked similar to him.
His hair was murky brown, and his eyes were an even darker, even more hollow brown.
He had a tall, menacing stature, and while I wasn’t even eight years old yet, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to have his height either.
In every way that counted, I was my mother’s daughter.
And he hated that.
Sometimes I thought he just hated me—not the way I looked—because his eyes would rake up and down me with disgust before he scoffed and moved on. Maybe if I’d looked more like him, he would be proud of me.
The truth was, I didn’t want to be like him.
I didn’t think Mom realized I heard their arguments some nights. How they weren’t actually as quiet as they assumed they were. I heard the insults spewing from my father’s mouth. The ones that only ceased with the slap of a hand across skin.
By the time I’d washed the dye from my hair and emerged from the bathroom, Hayden had turned off the lights. The TV was still running, a low drone in the background, but his soft snores told me he’d fallen asleep half under the covers.
Careful not to wake him, I pulled the comforter out from under his leg, dragging it up so it was covering his chest.
His lips curved into a soft smile, but he didn’t wake up. He looked so peaceful, like an angel incarnate.
In a way, he was—an angel. He’d looked out for me for so long. Took care of me when all I wanted to do was push everyone away.
It was time I returned the favor.