Eight years later and he’s thinking about all that. When his nostrils flare and his gaze darts to the door directly in front of us, my mind goes to our second time at this motel, in room number 37. When we talked about Brenna.
“Fuck, I’ve taken you for granted, Ky,” he whispers harshly.
I stare down at a crack in the asphalt. “Yeah, you have.”
He reaches out to me, and maybe it’s the effect of being back at this hotel, but I step toward him, closing my eyes when his rough fingertips knead into the nape of my neck. “This is the last time I’ll try to remind you, Ky, if that’s what you want.” His forehead touches mine. “But, God, I had to show you.”
“Show me what?”
“That when I think about the happiest times of my life, I think of this shithole right here.”
Me too. But I only dip my head, too afraid to try to manage words right now.
“I want you with me the rest of this trip. Sleeping in my bed. Waking up next to me. My girl, just this last time.”
Like the memories of our past, I can almost clearly see our future. A future where we’re not together, where there are other people who will give us exactly what we’ve been looking for with each other.
And I loathe it.
I loathe it so goddamn much that I speak without thinking.
“I’ll stay with you until we get back to Los Angeles,” I whisper.
He lowers his lips to my temple, blowing strands of blue and black away from my face. “And if I’m what you want by the time we get back—if we can finally fix ourselves—what the f**k then?”
I can hear Cal and Heidi coming across the parking lot, arguing loudly about the original lead guitarist of some band, and I swallow hard. “I-I don’t know.” Once again the words tumble out before I have an opportunity to consider them, and his face cracks into a smile.
Dammit.
He backs away, slow to take his hands away from me. “It’s not what I wanted to hear, Ky,” he says just before Heidi and Cal come within earshot. “But that’s so much f**king better than hearing never.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Because of the detour, and the long dinner break we stop to take six hours into the trip, we don’t arrive in Albuquerque until close to 2 AM the next morning. Though I’ve tried several times, I haven’t slept a wink since we left the crappy hotel in Livingston. That place brought out so many memories—both good and bad—and I’m still restless, even as we check into the hotel.
When Wyatt opens the door to our room, I brush past him and step inside, scanning my eyes around the place we’ll be staying at for the next couple of days.
The room is beautifully decorated in shades of royal blue and turquoise, but it’s small in comparison to the last hotel. There’s a mini-fridge, a flat screen television on a massive cherry wood cabinet and a matching dresser. The bed itself takes up the majority of the room’s limited amount of space.
As Wyatt adjusts the thermostat to freezing, I sprawl out on the king-size mattress, closing my eyes in pleasure as the memory foam hugs the curves of my body. “I swear you’re trying to freeze me.”
“Are you f**king with me?” He snorts and cocks his head to the side. “It’s unbearable in here right now.”
From where I’m laying I can easily see the current temperature on the thermostat, and 70 degrees is anything but unbearable. “Maybe I should go sleep with Heidi and Cal,” I tease. He comes to stand at the edge of the bed, smirking. “At least then I won’t wake up shivering.”
“You’ll wake up shivering but not because of the AC.” He drags his tee shirt over his head and tosses it to the far side of the room. It hits the balcony door. He’s about to climb onto the bed with me, but his cell phone vibrates. Releasing an irritated sigh, he takes it out of his pocket. As he studies the message, pacing the narrow space between the end of the bed and the dresser, I prop myself up on my elbows. After several seconds of silence, I blurt out exactly what I’m thinking.
“Who’s that?” I shouldn’t ask—God, I know I shouldn’t ask—but curiosity will keep me awake all night for all the wrong reasons. “Well?”
Digging his fingertips into his short blonde hair, he shrugs. “Terra.” He places his phone on the TV stand without replying to Hazard Anthem’s gorgeous manager.
“Terra,” I repeat, only it sounds like “terror.” I lie back down, whipping the edge of the neatly tucked comforter over myself. It only covers half my body. “She knows it’s ridiculously late—or f**k, early—right?”
Wyatt yanks the blanket off of me and joins me on the bed. He straddles my hips, and I stare up at him, keeping my gaze neutral. It’s hard, considering he moves his fingertip up and down the top of my thigh.
“She’s having a party at her place and wants us to come by,” he explains. “Nate’s there.” I don’t miss the vicious way he says the front man’s name.
I know that Wyatt has been to Albuquerque recently. I don’t know the reason why because, technically, it’s none of my business. He and I have never officially been a couple. But now that I know Terra has a place in this city, there’s only one thought that rolls through my head.
“Have you f**ked her?” I demand.
“Are you serious, Kylie?”
I scoot up and slide my back against the headboard. This just causes him to move closer to me. He keeps his face level with mine so that I can smell the Mentos he chewed while we checked in. I touch his chin. He didn’t shave this morning, and it’s obvious.