Chapter 12
The storm hit out of nowhere. Thunder cracks, lightning tearing across the sky like it’s just as pissed as I am, a perfect reflection of this whole shitastic day.
Flights have been grounded, every hotel’s booked solid thanks to some convention, and the one place I do manage to find is a rundown motel with a single room left. Two beds this time, but the irony still stings.
Though, nothing hits harder than the girl beside me. Harlow hasn’t said a word since we left, she made it clear she doesn’t want to talk, and I’m not about to push. She looks one breath away from breaking down or tearing someone’s head off. I’d rather not be on the receiving end of either one.
Can’t say I blame her, though. I’m pissed too, and they’re not even my family. The only thing dulling the edge is the ache in my knuckles from putting Finchy Boy on his ass.
That relief is short lived once we arrive at the motel.
The outside is even more rundown than the pictures showed, our only option for food is either a vending machine or the bar across the street that looks seedier than this place.
And because the universe apparently has fucking jokes tonight, we’re given room… wait for it…sixty-nine.
If I had it in me to laugh, I would.
Rain hammers down in sheets as we haul our bags across the slick pavement, water dripping off us by the time I jam the key into the lock and push the door open.
Inside, beige walls, a scuffed dresser, two double beds, and a questionable stain on the ceiling wait for us.
Other than that, it’s relatively clean, and quiet. So, I’ll take it.
Harlow, not so much. She storms in ahead of me, yanking her bag until it snags on the dresser. Before I can warn her, the wheel jerks, handle ripping from her grasp, nearly tripping her, and that’s it. She finally unravels.
“Goddamn it!” She kicks the suitcase, clothes bursting free as she unleashes every curse in the book. “Stupid piece of shit!”
Another shove, then another, until the thing skids across the floor like it personally ruined her life. By the time she’s done, the room looks like a bomb went off, and she’s left standing there on heaving breaths and shaking shoulders.
I stay planted just inside the door, blinking before I clear my throat. “Uh…you good?”
She whirls on me, tears already brimming. “No, Linc, I’m not fucking good, okay? And right now, I feel like I’m never going to be again.” Her voice cracks, the dam finally breaking free.
She drops onto the edge of the bed, and sobs into her hands, folding under the weight of it all.
It’s fucking devastating.
Without hesitation, I cross the room and drop down in front of her, my hands resting on her knees. “Hey, come on, Goldilocks. It’s going to be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
She shakes her head. “I’m so stupid for coming here.”
The hurt in those words burn like an iron stake.
“They’re the stupid ones.” I brush the wet hair from her face, my hand lingering against the softness of her cheek. “This is their loss, not yours.”
Her glassy eyes meet mine in a storm of sadness. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
It wasn’t for nothing, not even close.
“Don’t worry about it.” I shrug, keeping it easy. “At least I got to drop Finchy Boy on his ass. That alone makes the trip worth it, right?”
That earns me a laugh. Small, watery, but real.
I’d break every bone in my hand for that sound.
“True.” She sniffles, wiping at her face. “Thanks for that, by the way.”
“Anytime.”
I mean that. If given the chance, I’d go back right now and drop him twice more. Hell, I’d slay every one of her fucking dragons if it meant never seeing her shed another tear.
She drags in a shaky breath, composing herself. “So…what do we do now?”
My gaze scans the room, catching on the neon pink sign flashing through the rain-streaked window.
A grin tugs at my mouth as an idea takes shape. “Wanna get shitfaced?”
The smallest smile touches her own lips. “Yeah. Actually, I do.”
It’s like music to my ears.
“Well, all right then.” I push off my knees, rising to my feet. “Let’s get this fucking party started.”
She lets out a laugh as I take her hand, leading her toward the door.
If the universe wants to keep throwing punches, then we’ll hit back. With a bottle of whiskey and a reckless night we won’t soon forget.