CHAPTER SIX
It was early morning when I hung my dress and bra over the bathroom rail. Then I cleaned myself up as best as I could without a change of clothes.
There was a bar of soap in its box, though it came out looking and feeling like chalk.
A little towel had been folded and left ready for use, but it was hardly longer than my arm.
I didn’t mind. Something about its rough, gritty texture brought me back to my younger years, and that comforted me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I stepped into the shower and gave my body a quick wash. The water was cool, and the showerhead was decent. My hair was up in a bun, but it still got soaked.
Rest in peace, straight hair.
It was going to curl and frizz, and I wouldn’t look half as put-together as I had last night.
I washed my face, closing my eyes as the water ran over my heated cheeks.
When I stepped out, I blinked at myself in the mirror. My cheeks were pink. My lips were red and raw. There was a glow in my eyes that I didn’t recognize.
I stared at myself for some time, trying to recognize the woman I’d been. The woman I was running from. But this morning, my chest wasn’t tight. I wasn’t breathing through a straw. I expected a backlash. A wave of regret. Something ugly to destroy the euphoria of the past few hours.
But nothing came.
That was when I knew what I’d done was right.
It hadn’t been logical, maybe not even safe by many people’s standards, but…it felt right.
Had I stayed in that house, surrounded by swirling, toxic emotions, I might have drowned.
I dried myself with the tiny towel, then pulled the same dress back over my damp skin. The bra stayed hanging over the rail. I couldn’t bear the thought of wrestling it back on.
I opened the bathroom door quietly and leaned against the frame, my gaze landing on the form sprawled across the duvet—naked and dead asleep.
He slept like a man untouched by chaos. Like the world hadn’t stopped for him. Like he was living fully. I envied him.
Deeply.
I couldn’t help but fantasize about what it would be like to follow in his steps. How would I do it? I barely got a second into thinking about it before I hit a dead end.
It wasn’t possible.
I had no plan, no money, no way to make the life behind me disappear. Sooner or later, I would have to face the noise and shed the last decade with my head held high.
I was lying to myself.
My head wouldn’t be high.
It would be bowed.
I trembled just thinking about my actions. How foolish I was. How far-reaching the consequences would be.
I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and sighed. I had an hour before checkout.
I left Tristan sleeping and stepped out into the sunlight.
My room came with free coffee. I had seen the machine in the main office. It looked sad, but it was free.
And free coffee was still coffee.
The office was empty except for the receptionist, who barely looked up from her phone to mumble a bored, “Good morning.”
I grabbed a Styrofoam cup.
“There’s sugar and cream,” she said, motioning to the serving station.
“I like my coffee black,” I replied, ignoring her stare as I filled the cup to the brim and walked out.
I needed to be invisible. Hard to do in this dress. Not the best outfit to ditch your life in, but I hadn’t exactly had options at the time.
I sipped the bitter coffee on my way back. The motel grounds were waking up. Kids ran past me, moms barked orders, tired husbands lugged bags. Tourists in sun hats and trendy sunglasses smiled wide.
I didn’t smile back.
I felt itchy. Nervous.
Then I saw it—a cop car parked across the street.
My heart jumped.
I spun around and walked the other way, ducking behind a donut van that had been closed last night but was bustling now. I pretended to wait in line, my eyes fixed on the police car.
No movement. No uniforms.
I scanned the motel lot.
Nothing.
Maybe being out in the open was a mistake.
I ditched the line and hurried back.
Don’t run.
Be calm.
Hot coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my hand. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t breathe until I slammed the door shut behind me. I set the cup down, my body shaking violently.
Then I remembered—
I wasn’t alone.
I spun around, and my heart jumped again, but only because the bed was empty. I strode across the room and checked the bathroom. The door was wide open.
Unoccupied.
“Tristan?” I called, but I already knew.
He was gone.
I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. My damp hair clung to my cheeks, cooling them.
So that was it.
He was gone, and the rejection hit like a punch to the chest. I trembled again, but for different reasons.
I thought about last night. About how he had made me feel—
I scoffed and shook my head.
What had I expected?
That he would stay?
That he would wake up and want more?
This was better.
Cleaner.
No awkward goodbyes. No complications.
He hadn’t been part of the plan.
Not that I had one.
I was flying blind, and now it felt daunting. Heavy. Like a terrible weight had settled across my shoulders. I supposed I had expected something more from him. Maybe…maybe I had believed he was truly enamored with me. But he couldn’t have been if he had walked out without a glance or a word.
I tried to breathe calmly, but I kept thinking about home. About the cop car. About Tristan. About the tenderness still lingering in my body from his touch—
The door burst open.
I let out a sudden shriek, jumping out of my skin.
In that blink of an eye, I wondered if that was it. If everything was about to come crashing down on me.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Daze. I thought you’d still be out.”
My heart pounded. I was lightheaded. But then I saw his face—sheepish and contrite. He was wearing the same clothes as last night. A wrinkled white shirt. Disheveled hair. And now, in daylight, I saw him more clearly than ever.
Tristan was gorgeous.
Painfully so.
In the most effortless way.
Even in disarray, everything about him warranted my attention.
“It’s okay,” I said breathlessly. “I just…I thought you’d left.”
He smirked. “I did.”
“But you came back.”
“With gifts.”
He raised a brown bag in one hand and a cupholder with two coffees in the other.
Breakfast and coffee.
I was too stunned to speak.
Tristan tilted his head to the side as he studied my expression. “If you’d rather I didn’t come back, Daze, I can leave.”
I shook my head quickly. “No—don’t do that. I’m glad you’re back.”
His smirk deepened. “Good, because I had to sweet-talk my way to the front of the line at the breakfast joint around the corner.”
I laughed. “Dazzled a few girls with that smile?”
He chuckled and began dishing out Styrofoam plates filled with hash browns, scrambled eggs, and sausages.
“Actually, it was this elderly lady who watched me sing last night. I really had to bat her hands away to get here fast enough.”
“You didn’t have to get felt up by a grandma, you know.”
He paused, setting the last plate down on the bed.
His voice softened. “I thought you left me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“When I woke up and you were gone…I thought you’d fled.”
My face flushed. “No.”
“No,” he echoed. “I was hoping I was wrong.”
“If it makes you feel better, I thought you’d left, too.”
He grinned. “Can’t get rid of me that easily, Daisy.”
“I’m not trying to.”
I felt his gaze settle on me. I kept mine fixed on the food.
The smell made my stomach growl—loudly.
“Hungry?” he teased.
“Famished,” I admitted.
Tristan piled food onto a plate and slid it across the bed.
“While I’d love to gloat that we worked up an appetite last night, I’m more curious—when was the last time you ate?”
I didn’t want to admit that it had been two days. That I hadn’t even noticed until now, with the scent of grease and salt making my head spin.
So I said, “A while.”
He didn’t push, but I could feel his curiosity.
He sat at the end of the bed and dug into his food without looking at me. I was grateful he gave me some space to eat because I dug in with my plastic fork, manners forgotten.
I resisted groaning.
The sausage was greasy and glorious, bursting with the flavor my body had been aching for.
After a while, when I had made a serious dent in my plate, he asked, “So…what are your plans, Daze?”
I licked my fingers, not even sure when I had abandoned my fork.
His eyes were on me again. Bright and searching.
“Plans?”
He nodded. “You sticking around or heading out?”
Ah.
I looked down at my plate, unsure how to tell him I had no goddamn clue what I was doing. “Why do you ask?”
“I want to spend more time with you.”
Once again, his honesty caught me off guard. My body burned.
I couldn’t meet his eyes.
I thought of the cop car.
The cash I barely had.
“I’m not…I’m not planning to stick around.”
“What direction are you going?”
I pushed the plate aside, anxiety creeping in at how fucked everything was.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Tristan said quickly. “I’m asking because I want to know, not because you owe me an answer.”
Despite everything, something inside me softened.
I glanced at him. There was no teasing in his expression now. Something deeper lived there. Not just desire.
Need.
I felt unsettled. I didn’t understand this man. Didn’t understand the breakfast, the questions, the look he was giving me.
“Why aren’t you running out the door, Tristan?” I asked quietly.
He frowned, thoughtful. “Maybe for the same reason you aren’t.”
I nodded and looked down at my clasped hands.
The seconds that slipped by felt like an eternity. In a matter of moments, I relived my pain and then swiftly silenced it.
Finally, I said in a tiny voice, “I don’t have a plan. I can’t even read a map. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know the way behind me is gone, and I can’t ever go back.”
“Sounds like we’re in the same boat.”
I looked up at him, my brows furrowed. “How?”
There was no humor in him now. Only pain.
“We’re both running from our past.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I choked out, “Do you think it can be outrun?”
He pressed his lips together for a moment, considering my question. Then he leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine. “No, but we can give it one hell of a chase.”
A spark shot through me at that response.
My mouth spread into a wide smile. “I like the sound of that.”
He smiled softly back. “Come on a walk with me. I want to show you something.”
I glanced at the clock. I needed to leave anyway.
“Okay.”
We cleared the food away and tossed everything out.
We entered the bathroom, and it felt impossibly small with him inside it.
It didn’t unnerve me or make me feel crowded.
Every time his body bumped into mine, I felt myself warming, leaning into him without thought.
Then he caught sight of my bra still hanging on the rail, and his eyes flickered over me in the reflection of the mirror.
My cheeks burned as I looked down into the sink, concentrating very hard now on getting myself clean.
My heart picked up. Funny how you didn’t have to look at someone to know what they were thinking. I could feel his gaze on me, could feel his bare thoughts, and it took me back to last night. To him inside me, pleasuring me. To him kissing me like he never wanted to stop. I swallowed hard.
As we washed our hands in the bathroom sink, I asked, “What are you going to show me?”
He dried his hands with the small towel and shot me a heart-stopping grin.
“My ride.”