Chapter Ten #2
Dex stopped in front of a lilac door and offered my sister the room key adorned with a pink leather heart, leaning his shoulder against the jamb to watch her struggle before reaching over to flip it the right way.
She laughed. Something in my chest constricted, pulling tight.
Any semblance of good feelings disappeared upon entering our room to find mirrored ceilings and a heart-shaped bed.
Our horrified expressions bounced right back at us.
“Oh my god,” I said, letting my bags tumble to the floor. Phoebe’s sunburned cheeks flushed a deep maroon.
“Okay, this isn’t funny anymore.”
“Who wants to sleep in a heart-shaped bed?” I looked to Dex, who’d had a lot of answers thus far. He came up short this time. “Shape-wise. It doesn’t make sense.”
“No one is disagreeing with you,” Dex said. He shut his eyes, exhaustion emanating from his very being. “You guys can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Yeah, I’m not sleeping in a heart-shaped bed under a mirror ceiling with my sister,” Phoebe replied. I nodded.
“Uncrossable lines.”
He heaved a huge sigh, shoulders sagging. “I’ll get blankets.”
I watched him slump out of the room, something pinching deep beneath my rib cage. Guilting the woman at the front desk into giving us a free room wasn’t my most shining moment. The next closest hotel was probably a short drive, and then Dex and I wouldn’t be sentenced to a night on the floor.
“Can I shower first?” Phoebe asked, snapping me out of my daze. She’d dumped the contents of her bag across the bed, the vibrant red duvet overwhelmed by black. “Someone puked on Zenobia and they didn’t get any on me but it feels like it’s on me, you know?”
I waved her off. “Go ahead.”
She grabbed a handful of black from the bed and darted into the bathroom. “Oooh! A heart-shaped tub!”
I smiled, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
Sitting didn’t help the ache in my back or the exhaustion plucking at me like strings of a marionette, but it gave the illusion of rest. I drew my phone out for the first time since Coney Island.
Forty-three unread texts from Arden. Mustering whatever energy I had left, I called her.
“Hey!” she shouted mid-ring. I winced.
“Ow.”
“Sorry. Hey. Hi.” She cleared her throat, gathering herself. “I’ve been losing my mind, a little bit. You’ve been MIA.”
“I sent you pictures from Coney Island.”
“But you didn’t reply to any of my texts. You said nothing. And that, my friend, says everything.”
I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Does it?”
“Obviously not,” she said. “I have no idea what’s going on. You cut me out of the loop.”
“We’ve been gone for like twelve hours,” I said, prompting a huff. “We go longer without contact when you and Noah take your anniversary trips.”
“That is so not the same thing. Just tell me how it’s going. I’m dying, Vi.”
“It’s fine.” I paused, glancing at the mirrored ceiling.
My lifeless eyes stared back, complete with flat hair and sunburned cheeks.
“I mean, it’s exhausting and my back is fucked from driving for so long.
I got whiplash from a roller coaster. And we’re spending the night in a couples hotel that may or may not be hosting an orgy. ”
A solid ten seconds of silence followed this. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I never joke about orgies.”
Before she could spiral, I filled her in on the details as Phoebe’s voice drifted in from the bathroom, singing a song I didn’t know.
In this unfamiliar hotel room with a stranger staring at me in the mirrored ceiling, my best friend and my sister kept me tethered to the ground.
I was okay. And not only that, but my dad was out there somewhere watching us embark on this journey.
“So…” Arden trailed off, her voice dipping with uncertainty. “You’re staying? And you’re cool with it?”
I let out a breath, watching my reflection in the mirror blink slowly. “Yeah.”
“Thank god.” I swore I could hear her collapse onto her bed, springs creaking underneath the relief. “I kept picturing you in that car like a hostage. You’re so stubborn.”
I smiled and leaned on my elbows, legs crossed, ready for an Arden Rant.
“Stubborn,” she repeated emphatically, and I knew she was gesturing with as much gusto. “And honestly? Thoughtless.”
“Thoughtless!”
“It’s one thing to investigate a letter. Find the writer, return it, deal with a few consequences. Like, yeah, I was all in, too. But that wasn’t enough for you. You had to throw in a cross-country road trip with a total stranger. Because of the stubbornity!”
“That’s not a word,” I pointed out. Even while calling me batshit crazy for going on this trip, Arden had handled me with care until now: Life couldn’t be normal until she unleashed her unfiltered opinions about my life, and here, finally, the dam broke.
“It’s as good as!” she shouted with conviction.
I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
“I thought you were out of your mind! Certifiable! I asked Noah if we should step in and put a stop to the madness. But he was all, ‘Nah, let’s see how it goes.’ As if it was nothing.
As if your life isn’t nightmarishly intertwined with mine. What an insult. He’s on my list too.”
“How long is your list?”
“Stop enjoying this,” she snapped. “It’s not funny. I was sick. I thought you were sick. I thought I was indulging a sick person’s whims.”
“It’s not not true,” I said. She growled. “Let me have it, Arden. I deserve it.”
“I can hear you smiling.”
“I’m not. I’m cowering. I’m curled up in the fetal position, near tears. Please don’t yell at me. I can’t take it.”
“I wish Dex was a murderer,” she grumbled. I rolled onto my back, smiling at my reflection. Slightly more familiar, like someone I knew in a past life. Like maybe I could know her in this one.
The rant went on for another ten minutes, but I put an end to it when Phoebe returned.
Her cheeks were rosy, both from the sun and the shower, and she wore pajama shorts, a tank top, and hotel-supplied slippers two sizes too big for her feet.
She gushed about the water pressure and the heart-shaped tub for a solid three minutes and then passed out against the dozen throw pillows decorating the bed.
Had to be the first time she fell asleep at a decent time… well, ever.
Then, I cried in the shower, more out of relief and exhaustion than grief.
By the time I emerged—clean, moisturized, and comfy in shorts and a big tee—Dex had returned and set up two makeshift beds on opposite sides of the room with thick, soft-looking blankets that definitely didn’t come from the five-dollar throw bin.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low. Dex didn’t bother looking up from where he rummaged through his bag. “Thanks for getting blankets.”
He grunted, probably pissed that I insisted we take this room and sleep on the floor rather than driving a mile to the next hotel.
“Dex.” I winced against the silence. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You’re so mad. You’re stabbing me with your mind right now.”
He stood up and faced me. I expected daggers, something similar to that day we showed up at Sequest, but there was no anger there; he simply looked exhausted.
“I’m not mad,” he repeated, keeping his voice low with Phoebe sleeping a few feet away. “I’m done.”
My heart dunked into my stomach. “What?”
“It’s too much.” He wiped a hand over his face. “I’m thinking we head back to Boston first thing.”
“No.” The word flew out of me in a gasp. “Dex, we can’t.”
“This was a mistake. Look at where we are right now.”
“It’s funny,” I said. I inhaled slowly, trying to get a handle on the panic rising up my chest. Phoebe was sleeping next to us and if she woke up to the sound of Dex’s doubt…
if she woke up in the morning to find out the rug had been wrenched out from under her for the second time in nine months…
I couldn’t let it happen. I wouldn’t. “Just because things aren’t going according to plan doesn’t mean it’s a mistake. ”
He let out a humorless laugh. “What plan?”
“What about Catalina?” I asked desperately. What about Phoebe? I couldn’t ask. Or worse, What about me?
“It’s too much,” he repeated, and I wondered if my sister and I had managed to finish off this already-broken man.
“I know it’s a lot. We’re a lot.” I swallowed, casting Phoebe a sidelong glance. She looked so peaceful, pink hair fanned over her cheek, her breathing soft and steady. “But she needs this. And considering you agreed to do this, I think you need it too.”
“This is crazy,” he said. “It’s crazy that we’re doing this. We’re out of our fucking minds, Violet.”
“Maybe. But we’re already here.”
“It’s not too late to turn around.”
My mantra of the past twenty-four hours echoed in my mind: I can call it off. I forced myself to shake my head and said, “Please.”
His jaw ticked. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now,” he muttered, turning away from me. He squatted down in front of his bag, resuming his rifling. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I swallowed the urge to argue. It had been a long day, a longer week, and I was so tired, I could feel it in my bones. I understood Dex’s hesitation—my own had been plaguing me since we left, and it took everything in me to fight against turning around.
But I had to keep us on the road for Phoebe. Hopefully with some rest and distance from the day, Dex would change his mind.
I plunked down on the pile of blankets nearest to the bed.
They were softer than anticipated, but very much not a bed.
I stretched out and pulled a Sherpa throw up to my chin.
My reflection blinked at me in the darkening room, humidity from the shower drifting in with a hint of lavender soap.
I heard the zipper of Dex’s bag, and his soft Excuse me as he stepped over my legs on his way to the bathroom.
I shut my eyes, waiting for my sore, fatigued body to shut down until morning, and then immediately checked my phone.
7:41 P.M. Bedtimes don’t exist on road trips, surely.