Chapter 16
Zoltán
Fia worked on her laptop for the first three hours of our drive, hounding me with questions before shoving on her headphones and typing ferociously fast.
I sighed in wonder, like a lovesick fool.
She was brilliant. Fierce. Damningly beautiful.
I knew it was wrong to want her—knew it somewhere deep down, in a place I didn’t dwell for long.
But it was her fault, really. How the hell was I supposed to resist her?
When she fell asleep for the last couple of hours of the drive, I kept stealing glances at her. Mouth open, travel cushion pressed against the window, a slight snore. I turned the music off to listen to her breathing. The soft rhythm was so soothing, I nearly forgot where I was going.
I hadn’t returned since my grandfather died. Not since before the crash.
And I couldn’t imagine going without Fia. She would be the best person to ground me in the moment and stop my mind from spiralling.
When we pulled up, she woke, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark parking lot. She sat upright and shoved her head out the window she opened, staring up at the motel sign. Only one letter continued to breathe light into the night.
There were cracks in the walls of the quiet motel. Plants that used to bloom across the walls were crisp, curling, and dead. The paint had flaked off on each of the doors, and the numbers were hanging by a single nail.
The manager here was my late dad’s best friend. They’d grown up here together. This was where they would holiday. My granddad had employed him after my dad died, but without his guidance as the owner, this place was a shell of what it had been.
I’d let this happen.
The building looked creepier when I cut the engine, and the car lights turned off. Fia’s window immediately came up, and she looked from left to right as I walked around the front of the car, opening her passenger door.
She looked up with suspicion. “You’ve brought me here to murder me, haven’t you?”
I laughed, taking her rucksack from her and throwing a strap over my shoulder. “Not tonight. I’m too tired.”
She snorted and took my hand to stand. Her eyes roved around the quiet motel, and when a rat darted into the car park, her nose wrinkled.
“Hey, at least we get the pick of the rooms.”
“What a perk,” she said, but her voice stayed dry.
I laughed, my body hyperaware of how she hadn’t removed her hand from mine. Maybe it was fear that kept her holding me.
“I’ll protect you from the rodents,” I promised. I should’ve gotten our bags from the boot, but I didn’t want to tug on her hand to remind her I was holding it, or let go. So we stood there. “They only hang out by the pub bins and the vending machines around here.”
“I wish we could have brought Bodri,” she said. “I’d feel much safer.”
“Oh. He’s your chosen hero, huh?”
She nodded, and her hand slipped from mine.
My heart sank.
But I covered it by getting our bags.
“Did you say a pub?” She checked her smartwatch. “Do you think they’ll still be serving food?”
There wasn’t a time difference between Hungary and Serbia. It had just hit 9 p.m.
“They’ll be able to get something together for us,” I told her, and started rolling her suitcase to the reception desk. She followed swiftly. “Whatever room you want, I can get the room next door.”
She stopped just as a wheel caught on a wonky patio slab.
“We’re not… we’re not sharing a room?”
I whirled around, the caught wheel completely forgotten. “Did you want to?”
She lifted a hand to gesture at the place. “I am not complaining at all, so please don’t think I’m ungrateful. But… without my saviour son, Bodri, you’re a good placeholder. And I don’t think I’d feel—I don’t think I could sleep alone here.”
Guilt pounded between my ribs as hope grew in my chest. She was softening to me. But I’d also let this place crumble so badly she didn’t feel safe here.
It wasn’t the only thing I’d left broken.
“I’d be honoured to protect you for the night,” I said. “They’re all double beds, but there are pull-out sofas, so I can sleep on—”
“That would be silly. You need to look after your body, so I can—”
“If you dare volunteer to sleep on a sofa bed, I will drive us right back to my house.”
She pursed her lips. “So…” She looked at one of the doors and perked up a bit, back straightening. “We’re going to share a bed.”
“Seems so.”
Her nod was slow. “No flirting. And, remember, no coming.”
I offered her my pinky finger, but she laughed and shook her head. “Glad we’re in agreement.”
I couldn’t come. Nothing had been said about her orgasming, though. If she’d let me, I was dying to hear her unravel again. Taste her again. Touch her again.
“But food first, because I’m starving.”
We went to the reception, where we were checked into the ‘grand’ room. Fia snorted again, and I cringed. It was about time I put some money into this place.
I asked the woman where Stefan was, and she shrugged.
That meant he was at the pub.
I let us into our room, and Fia changed in the toilet out of her leggings and Lycra fleece. She returned in another summer dress and a kimono that was so sheer, it paled her skin further. I wanted to get under the material.
I wanted to get under her skin.
“Livie would have a field trip with this place,” Fia laughed. “She loves interior design.”
“I’m sure the manager would take some pointers,” I said, already trying to look away from her before I had to struggle with rule number two.
She grabbed the room key and strolled out like she owned the place before locking the door behind us.
I led the way, but she started yapping in that adorable way of hers.
“What kind of food do they have? I’ve never been to Serbia before.
I’m so hungry. I don’t know whether to go for something I know and can eat super fast because I know I’ll like it, or something cultural.
We’re here tomorrow as well, aren’t we? So I have an opportunity to eat then, too, I suppose.
” She seemed to be thinking hard, her brows furrowed.
“I know for a fact that once I’ve eaten, I’m going to be out like a light. Is it a long walk?”
I tried to respond, but she smiled shyly, her hand brushing mine.
“I’m talking a lot, aren’t I? I do this when I’m hungry. I talk so much rubbish to distract myself so I don’t become… ugh, I don’t know the Hungarian word, but…” She switched to English. “Hangry.”
I’d heard the term before and laughed. “I love your voice. You can talk, order, and eat all you like. And if you need, I’m also happy to carry you back.”
Her smile was less timid. “Thank you, Zoltán.”
“Any time.” Every time. Every opportunity.
One day, I’d get to carry her home.
We walked into the pub — still abuzz with life despite it being a Wednesday — and winced when a group of men looked over. One stood, open-mouthed, and called over, “Zoltàn Farkas, you’re alive!”
I’d thought I might be able to order a drink before they’d notice me. I’d managed seven steps.
Fia pressed into my side. “I didn’t realise you’d be recognised here.”
“It’s not the racing world,” I said and wrapped a protective arm around her waist, taking Stefan’s hug with the other.
“I haven’t seen you since the accident!” he cried, then turned to the bar staff. “A whiskey Coke, and… for the lady?”
She smiled graciously and said, “I’ll have the same, please.”
“Coming up!” he said and gestured for us to sit with his friends.
“We were just having a quiet one, Stef,” I told him, stroking Fia’s side.
“Ah,” he said and looked at Fia a bit too long for my liking. “One drink with us, Zolt. We have so much to catch up on!”
Fia shrugged. “It would be nice to meet your friends.”
“Hah!” Stef laughed. “Hear that, Zolt? Your godfather’s your friend!”
Fia’s eyes bulged out of her face, but she managed to cover it up and smile at Stef again. “On that count, we are definitely joining you. Can you just point me in the direction of the bathroom?”
He did, and I grabbed our drinks from the bar. Stef watched her walk away. “She’s beautiful.”
“Too young for you,” I snapped.
Stef’s brows shot up.
“And she’s mine.”
They hit his hairline.
I cleared my throat. I hated that it was a lie. “Well, she’s not yours.”
Stef laughed again and patted my back.
Thankfully, they were sitting where I could keep an eye on the bathroom door so I could wave her over.
When she joined us, she slotted right into our conversation, taking their food recommendations eagerly and then eating and moaning at the same time.
She gave as good as she got, bantering back with my grandad and dad’s family friends, and when she finally told Stef to fuck off, he nodded at me with a glimpse of a grin.
And I knew that from above, that was the only approval I needed. Forget the complications, the family connections, Stefan knew Fia was it for me.
She broadened my horizons and deepened my connections. She made me want to try again. She made me want to live.
To be better.
Fia was self-aware enough to know how her body worked. Five minutes after her last bite, she was slumped into my side, my arm slung over her shoulder, and she was fighting sleep.
I said goodbye to her new friends for her and guided her down the street back to our motel. She collapsed onto the bed, and I slid her shoes off, quickly noting their size. “Fia, did you pack pyjamas?”
She nodded into her pillow.
“Am I okay to put them on you? Or would you rather sleep in what you’re wearing?”
“Outdoor clothes not in bed.”
“Okay,” I chuckled, unwilling to tell her that was already happening. “So I can help you get changed?”
“Help me,” she said, sitting and lifting her arms.
I pulled her dress over her head and quickly searched in her suitcase for the silk pyjamas she’d packed, before pausing.
Did women sleep in bras? That didn’t seem comfortable, but I’d never slept in a bed with a woman unless we’d… well. I didn’t want to think about doing that with anyone else.
But if I took off her bra, that might be too far.
I pulled the top over her head and then the shorts up her legs. She lay back down and lifted her hips to help me. Then she rolled over, grunted, and lifted her bra through her top.
“What witchcraft was that?”
She laughed through her exhaustion and chucked the bra across the room. “Get in bed. ‘S comfy.”
When I’d searched through the suitcase at the bottom of the bed, I’d seen it wasn’t actually a double bed, but two singles pressed together. Without disturbing her, I pushed the far bedside table to the ensuite wall and moved the empty bed to follow it.
She rolled over. “What doing?”
I can’t sleep in the same bed as you without pulling you close and cuddling you until you push me away.
“Just giving you some space.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she said. She wasn’t smiling, but she watched my every move.
“I know.”
I stripped to my boxers and got in, facing her. She had her palm under her cheek.
“You’re far away,” she mumbled.
“It’s probably for the best.”
Her eyes locked on mine for three beats before she asked softly, “Do you regret it?”
“Yes,” I said, and then remembered I had promised her the complete truth. No omissions. My hand reached out between our beds, halfway. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her. “And no. I regret hurting you. But I can never regret us. And without what I did… I don’t think we’d be the same.”
“We wouldn’t,” she agreed, but her hand slipped from the mattress in the dangerous space between us.
“I should have told you,” I said. “But I didn’t know how without losing you.”
Her fingers curled around mine. “You still might.”
“I know.”
But she didn’t let go. Instead, she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.