Chapter Seven — Allie

I tucked my collar up and pressed it in close around my neck before giving one last glance back through the window towards the friendly waitress, and then ran like hell back to the Blue Lagoon Motel. I burst through the front door and sheer exhaustion forced me to overlook all the glaring flaws I’d noted on my first visit. The warmth seeped into my jacket and with a full meal in my stomach—I was ready to get to bed.

“There you are,” Paul called to me as I shook out my arms, spraying rain drops in my wake. “I was beginning to wonder if Karen decided to adopt you.”

I gave him a faint smile, too tired to come up with a smart-ass reply.

He gave me another look up and down as I stepped to the counter. My legs were screaming in protest at having to move, and I dreaded what they’d feel like in the morning after such a long ride. Cooper’s offer to put me on a plane came back to me for the dozenth time and I cursed my stubbornness. Not that I would ever admit as much to Cooper. As far as he needed to know, I was warm, dry, comfortable, and not at all worn out.

“Where are you from?” Paul asked.

I sagged against the counter. “Originally? Kansas. That’s where I’m headed now actually.”

He gave a small nod and then turned his attention to the notebook in front of him. “Looks like room 201 is vacant.”

I nearly snorted at his comment. From what I’d seen out in the parking lot, it appeared that most, if not all, of the rooms were vacant. There had been two, maybe three, other vehicles parked out front and I couldn’t remember seeing any rooms with lights on. I pushed aside my skepticism and laid my hand across the table as Paul handed me a pen. He spun the notebook around on the counter so the page was facing me.

“The room is $64 for the night, check out is at ten, no smoking, no pets. Sign here,” his tone was gruff, but his expression neutral.

I handed over my credit card—the one Cooper had given me—and signed the spot indicated, agreeing to the terms, and then laid the pen on top of the book. I glanced over the counter and didn’t see a computer anywhere. “Does this place have WiFi?”

Paul shook his head. “No, and on a night like this, the satellite is probably down too.”

I shrugged. As it was, I was likely to pass out as soon as I got to the room. “All right.”

“Here is your key,” Paul said, passing over a small, metal key. No internet, no TV, and metal keys? I wrinkled my nose, wondering if I was really less than a day away from the huge, technology steeped Los Angeles. “We’re low tech, but the room are clean and a decent price.”

I nodded, doing my best to wipe the mystified look off my face. “That’s great, I’m really, really grateful you opened a room for me tonight.”

Paul gave me a small smile and another polite nod. I noted a small dimple when he smiled, and the way his eyes creased warmed up his face. I couldn’t help but smile back, remembering what the waitress—Karen—had said about him. “Not a problem. I live on site, so if you need anything, just holler. I’ll be here most of the night. I’m kind of a night owl.”

I nodded and picked up the key. “Thanks.”

Even though the room was easy to find, and not far from the main office, I was drenched through by the time I got inside. I flicked on as many light switches as I could easily find, and went about inspecting the room. It was small, and felt smaller than it was, thanks to the dark wood paneling covering three of the four walls. Other than the bed, there was a small dresser which had an old school looking TV on top and a wire table with matching chairs that looked like they had originally been meant for a patio table.

I shrugged out of my coat and draped it over the back of one of the chairs and then dragged it to sit closer to the radiator, which I bumped up to the highest setting. Although the room looked tidy, it was freezing cold and damp. The rest of my clothes were so wet they were clinging to my body, and I wanted nothing more than to strip out of everything and take the hottest shower of my life, but first I needed to make sure the bed was clean, because once I got out of the shower that was the only place to go.

I was in the middle of inspecting the sheets for any sign of bed bugs, when my phone started chirping. A flash of fear gripped my stomach as I jumped across the room to answer and saw my brother Ben’s name and number on the screen. “Ben?” I answered, the fear digging in deeper as I held my breath, awaiting his reply.

“Hey Allie. Where are you?”

“I’m in Arizona, near the border, I think. I had to stop because of the rain storm. I’m at the Blue Lagoon Motel. How’s daddy?” I sat down on the foot of the bed.

“Stable. He pulled through the heart surgery and the doctors said everything went as planned. They had to stitch him up and set a couple broken bones too, from the accident.” It had been a while since I’d last seen my brother—well, anyone in my family—but I recognized the overtone of exhaustion in his voice and could picture his sleep deprived face.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I said, wishing I could offer something more substantial. The overwhelming sense of helplessness cut into me and my nose stung as tears pricked at my eyes. “He’s gonna be okay.”

I realized I was saying it more for my own benefit than Ben’s.

“Yeah, he’s gonna be okay, Allie. Get some sleep, and give me or mom a call tomorrow when you’re getting close.”

I pressed my eyes closed and two tears fell down my cheeks. “I will. Thanks.”

As soon as I ended the call, I forgot that I hadn’t yet finished my bed bug hunt, and let myself fall back. I lay there for a long time, studying the shadows on the ceiling, and letting every unshed tear fall until I felt empty enough to sleep.

* * * *

Sunshine peeking through the tattered blinds woke me the next morning, and as I struggled to sit up, I realized I was still wearing all my wet clothes from the night before. I’d fallen asleep before changing, showering, or calling Cooper…

Shit.

I stumbled from the bed and tore out of all my—now just damp—clothes and took a scalding shower, hoping the temperature of the water would kill off any fungus or bacteria lurking in the corners of the old shower stall. I scrubbed frantically at my tangled hair, unknotting it as I worked the conditioner through each section. My hair was unruly on the best of days, but after being plastered in a helmet for several hours and then slept on soaking wet and windblown, it was in rare form. When I finally got free from hair hell, I lathered up the rest, rubbing my tired legs with extra attention, knowing it was only going to get worse. I needed to put in another ten plus hours and I didn’t want to have to stop and spend another night in a motel.

It was going to be the longest day of my life.

When I got out of the shower, my phone was chirping at me and I swallowed a lump in my throat, knowing—without even looking— Cooper was on the other end of the line. And he wasn’t going to be in a good mood. I grabbed the phone on the last ring and reluctantly pressed it to my ear. “Hi.”

Without preamble, the voice on the other line snapped, “Where the hell are you?”

I pressed my eyes closed, hating the sound of panic in his voice, knowing I was the one responsible for putting it there. “Cooper, I’m sorry I couldn’t call last night. My phone died and I got stranded at this motel to wait out the shitty weather.”

My explanation was met with cold silence. I sat down on the bed and absentmindedly continued massaging my legs. “Cooper?”

“I’m here,” he growled.

The man could brood better than anyone I’d ever met before, a trait I somehow found alluring and infuriating—usually at the same time. I sighed. “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I said I’m sorry, and I am. I’m safe, just a little waterlogged.” I went to the window and looked out over the parking lot, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Cherry Bomb. “I’m leaving as soon as I get some breakfast and coffee.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to book you a flight?” Cooper asked, his voice releasing the sharp edge.

I smiled. “I’m sure. I talked to my brother last night and my dad is still in recovery, but it sounds like the surgery went well. I should be able to get to the hospital late tonight if I ride all day, and before you interrupt me—” I said, giving just enough force to my voice to make him listen, “—I’ll stop when I need to rest and I won’t do anything stupid. I know my limits, okay?”

“I know you do,” he finally admitted. After everything Cooper and I had gone through, there were two things I knew he knew about me. Number one being I’m a survivor who will always find a way to make it work. And two, I’m too stubborn to back down once I’ve started down a path. “I miss you.”

Even with all the chaos between getting the call and the long, stressful ride, Cooper had never been far from my mind. Hearing him tell me I was missed, made me miss him even more and my heart twisted at his sweet confession. “I miss you too.”

I clicked off the call and hurried to get dressed before wading up my wet clothes and stuffing them to the bottom of my backpack. Luckily, I’d managed to get my jacket dry since I’d set it by the radiator before passing out, and as I shrugged into the warm, soft leather I instantly felt prepared to go out and continue the ride.

“Leaving so soon?” Paul asked as I strode through the door of the lobby. He was leaning against the desk, shoveling generous bites of pie into his mouth. A smile quirked my lips, knowing it was likely a gift from a certain female admirer at the diner. “Check out isn’t until ten, ya know.”

I set the room key on the counter. “Yeah. I know but there’s somewhere I gotta be.”

Paul set down his fork and swiped the key from the counter. “Well you be careful out there. The weather’s supposed to turn on us again.”

I glanced over my shoulder and out the glass doors. The sky was still waking up, but looked calm. Not that it mattered—I couldn’t sit around another day waiting out a storm. The phone call with Ben had gone a long way towards consoling me, but I needed to see my dad with my own eyes before I would fully be able to relax.

“I will. Thanks again,” I said.

Paul gave me his signature head nod as he handed me my receipt. I pivoted on my heel, ready to leave, but shot back one last glance, flicking my gaze to the half eaten piece of pie, and told Paul, “Ask her out to dinner. She’ll say yes.”

Paul’s mouth opened slightly as he reeled for a response, but I just flashed a smile and pushed out the double doors.