Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CLOVER
The Montvale Motel looks exactly like the kind of place where someone gets murdered in the opening scene of a thriller.
Flickering neon sign, check. Cracked parking lot, check. Exterior stairs that are one strong wind away from collapse, check. And a clerk behind bulletproof glass who eyes us like we might be the ones doing the murdering, double check.
In short, this place is perfection, even if Valen is staring at me as though he can’t figure me out. That’s okay—I’ve been me my whole life, and I can’t figure me out either.
Jumps at loud noises but runs headfirst into a murder motel? I get it. I’m a contradiction at every turn.
The truth is, he gives me…courage. I would never have even known this place existed if it weren’t for him.
“We called earlier about two rooms,” Valen tells the woman through a little metal speaker. “Connecting, if you have them.”
I’m vibrating with nervous energy. We left Happiness more than twelve hours ago, I haven’t counted in six, and I just spent the last hour at a bookstore where I was recognized by actual readers who love my work.
Me!
Valen doesn’t comment on the fact that had we kept driving, we’d almost be at our destination by now. He simply stopped anywhere and everywhere he thought I might like.
My brain doesn’t know what to do with all this input that isn’t terror-based, and I’m bouncing on my toes as a result.
“You’re getting the last two rooms of the night,” the clerk says, sliding large metal keys under the glass partition to Valen and then to Chief.
“But we’re under construction, and they don’t connect.
One’s got a single bed, other has two of them, but they’re clean.
Cleaned them myself this morning. Numbers twelve and thirteen, second floor.
” She slams a metal grate down so hard, Valen would have lost a finger had he not jumped back at the last second.
“Thanks,” I call through the now-closed window. “I haven’t slept in a twin bed in ages.”
Do I sound excited about this? Yes. Do I know why? Not a freaking clue.
Valen holds the key, eyeing me carefully as we trudge up the exterior stairs. Chief grumbles about his knees, and Wrecks stops to sniff every suspicious stain.
It’s pretty gross.
“You do understand that this means we’ll be sharing a room, right?” Valen stops at the top of the stairs, and Wrecks attempts to pull free from my grasp. “You can’t be in a room alone, and Chief snores like a chainsaw.”
Whoosh. That’s my excitement, leaving my body to be replaced with a heady mix of dread and anticipation. What had been a nice little pitter-patter of my heart now ricochets violently off my ribcage. “O-kay.”
Internal eyeroll activated. Way to play it cool, Clover. Jeez.
Share a room? With Valen? Sure. No problem.
His eyes twinkle as if he can hear every thought in my head.
Standing at the threshold, Chief’s room is exactly what you’d expect. A floral bedspread from the ’80s, wood paneling that’s peeling and cracking, a TV that hangs haphazardly on the wall and probably doesn’t even work.
I’m freaking giddy over this mess. The stories I could write about this room!
Plus, it does look…cleanish. And the doors lock—I think.
“Well,” Chief says, surveying his room with the one twin bed. “I’ve seen worse. That motel in Poltney had bedbugs the size of quarters.”
“Please don’t tell that story,” I beg.
“Had to burn my luggage and—”
“Chief.” I press my hands over my ears and hum.
He grins. “All right.” He motions for me to remove my hands. “I’m gonna take Wrecks for a proper walk, let him sort out some of that energy. Y’all get settled.”
He disappears down the walkway with Wrecks, and I turn to find Valen standing in the doorway of room thirteen, tugging on his neck.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“There’s only one bed.” There’s something…delicious about his tone, but the way he looks anywhere but at me puts me on edge.
“But she said there were two.” Using both hands, I push past him to get inside.
One full-sized bed, and that’s being generous. I doubt it’s much bigger than the twin next door. It just sits there, mocking us.
“Chief,” Valen says slowly, dangerously. “He spoke to the manager a couple of hours ago about these rooms.”
“That sneaky—” I stop as laughter bubbles in my throat. That explains why the woman at the front desk literally slammed the door in our faces. “You think he did this on purpose?”
“He absolutely did, the interfering menace that he is.”
“We could ask for another room—”
“We could, but she said these were the last two rooms.”
“Right.”
We stand, staring at the bed like a puzzle to solve.
“I’d have Chief sleep in the RV, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of you being alone.” He paces the small porch while glaring inside the room as if it’s the room’s fault. “I’ll just sleep on the floor.”
He can’t even hide his grimace.
I scan his body, then the admittedly scary carpeting. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re like six foot five—”
“Six three—”
Huh. He seems much bigger. “Anyway, if you sleep on the floor, you’ll end up with a staph infection or something equally disgusting, and then who will protect me?”
“The chair then.” He steps into the room to study the chair and the ottoman that has been patched with three different patterns of fabric.
“Valen.” I drop my bag on the table, actively avoiding the questionable carpet. “We’re adults. We can share a bed. Just…” I gesture vaguely and replay every romcom I’ve ever seen in my mind. “Don’t hog the covers. I get really cold at night.”
His mouth twitches. “I make no promises.” Then the playfulness bleeds from his expression. “Are you sure about this, Clover? It’s crossing every professional line there is.”
“Valen, we shared our first kiss, our first…well, let’s just say there’s never been a professional line between us. At least, not for me.”
The tension breaks, but it’s replaced with something more potent. Something warm and anticipatory that makes my stomach flutter in ways that have nothing to do with anxiety.
“What do you mean, we shared our first kiss?”
I gulp as he stalks forward.
I’m the prey, and he doesn’t stop until my back hits the bathroom door with a dull thud I feel in every inch of my body.
“Um,” I bite my lip and focus on the pain there while I attempt to avoid his gaze. “Well, we kissed. More than once.”
“We. Kissed.” I can almost see his mind working, trying to recall memories he can’t access. It hurts to see him struggle this way.
I nod because my mouth is so dry, my tongue is stuck to the roof of it.
“Did we…just kiss?”
Oh God. Is he asking if we…if we had sex?
“Clover,” he demands. “Did we do more than kiss?”
I nod, and he frowns. His forehead creases like he’s thinking too hard.
“We…we were each other’s first everything, and I’ll never regret that, Valen.”
The hitch in his breath brings tears to my eyes.
“My…first,” he mumbles, and sadness flares in his dark expression.
Oh no.
He had no idea I was his first as well. In his mind, he gave that gift to someone else, and that is a sucker punch I didn’t see coming.
“When?”
My throat is scratchy, and I lift a hand to soothe it. “Right before…everything happened. Before…my escape.”
The urge to flee has my fingers tapping that familiar rhythm.
“The memory might be gone,” I say gently.
“But what we had?” I press my palm to my chest. “It’s still here for me.
You, us, we were the only true thing I had in my life.
We talked about it. We planned. We were careful and respectful, and it was beautiful.
I never would have wanted my first time to be any other way with any other person. ”
His fingers wrap around mine, and I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds to savor the connection.
“My first,” he repeats as though it’s still not computing for him.
It’s so painful, seeing how easily I was wiped from his life.
“I’m going to—” I slip beneath his arm, only now realizing he had me caged in, and grab my toiletry bag. “I’ll shower first, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah.” He sounds like he’s swallowing gravel. “Take your time.” He’s still clutching the doorframe, but he steps back to allow me to enter.
I sidle past him and shut the door before dropping my stuff onto the vanity and staring at my reflection in the age-pocked mirror.
Until this moment, I hadn’t understood the severity of what Valen’s missing memories would mean for me. But now I know—all my firsts—the ones I held onto with both hands—the ones that have been my lifeline, are now just one-sided stories with no attachment for anyone but me.
It’s as though everything I’ve ever held dear is evaporating before my very eyes.
“Clover?” There’s a thump on the bathroom door, almost as if he let his head fall to the thin wood.
I lift my palms to it, where I imagine his to be. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t remember such important things.”
Tears fall silently. But instead of retreating, I press my palms harder against the door and swallow my own sadness. He’s been through enough.
“Valen, listen to me.” My voice is steadier than it has any right to be. “You’re not broken because you can’t remember. It isn’t your fault. You’re here now. That’s what matters. And…” I suck down a sob that wants to break free. “We’ll make new memories together here, at the murder motel.”
The joke lands with the grace of a lead balloon, and he’s quiet for so long I fear he’s walked away, when he says, “Okay.”
Okay is better than no, so I push off the door and turn the shower on as hot as it’ll go.
The water pressure is surprisingly decent, and I stand under the spray for a long time, processing the day.
When my fingers prune, I turn off the water, and with a final pep talk, I emerge from the bathroom in loungewear. Soft cotton pants and an oversized T-shirt that says I’d rather be reading under my favorite light blue cardigan.