Jess
Late that afternoon, we pulled into what Thorn assured me was the final pit-stop before delivering the packages. I followed him mutely into the motel room, honestly too tired to be upset with my situation anymore.
“You can take the first shower if you want,” Thorn said generously as we walked into the motel room.
Instead, I collapsed across the bed, throwing an arm up over my eyes. I didn't know if it was the fitful sleep from the night before or the stress or the exhausting ride across state lines, but I didn't even know if I had it in me to shower.
My phone started ringing, saving me from answering Thorn. I picked up the phone and accepted the call after barely even looking at who was calling. “Emmanuel?” I asked. I could feel tears start pricking my eyes already, and I wanted desperately to tell him what was going on — but I knew I couldn't do that.
“Hello, darling,” Emmanuel said. “I went by your house this evening but you weren't there — what are you up to? It's unlike you not to come straight home from work, even on a Friday.”
I bit my lower lip, trying to figure out what to tell him. I had been waiting to tell him about the trip until after I'd returned. I remembered how excited I'd been when I'd booked it, how sure I'd been that he would really agree to date me if I came back from this spontaneous trip full of stories to tell him. Instead, my trip was turning out a little differently from what I'd imagined, and I could never tell him about any of this.
“I'm ... on a trip,” I finally managed to say. That was true enough, at least.
There was a frown in Emmanuel's voice when he responded. “A work trip?”
“No, a personal trip,” I said, wondering just how much I should say.
“You didn't tell me you were going on a trip,” Emmanuel said, his voice almost accusing. And he was right to sound upset about it; I should never have kept it from him in the first place. Even if we weren't technically dating yet, we talked nearly every day and there was always the notion that we would be dating.
“It was a ... last-minute kind of thing,” I practically whispered. “I know you keep telling me to be more adventurous and spontaneous, and I...”
“Where are you?” Emmanuel asked. “You sound upset.”
In fact, I could feel tears streaming down my face, and I was embarrassed to realize that Thorn was still standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, watching this whole exchange. He was probably trying to make sure that I didn't say anything incriminating. I wasn't that stupid, though.
“I'm fine, it was just a long day and I'm really tired,” I lied. “Don't worry about it. I'll be back home in a few days.”
“Where are you?” Emmanuel repeated, and I wondered if I was imagining the suspicion in his voice. Maybe I was just hoping he would get suspicious, that he would call the police, that they would come to find me. But that really wasn't something that I could hope for, not when that would mean going to jail.
I sobbed, trying to muffle the sound with my hand.
“Darling, where are you?” Emmanuel repeated. “Is there anyone there with you?”
“I'm fine,” I lied again, trying to keep the choked tears from my voice. “Really, Emmanuel, I'm fine. I'll be home in a couple days, and we can talk then.”
“I'm going to come find you,” Emmanuel vowed. “I know I wanted you to be more adventurous, but maybe I pushed you too hard. I'm sorry if I pushed you into something that you're not comfortable with, darling. Let me come get you and I'll bring you back home.”
I bristled at that, though. If this were a normal vacation, I would have been fine — maybe a little lonely, but not to the point that I needed rescuing. And it upset me to know that he thought that about me. Sure, I liked my routine, but I could be a little spontaneous sometimes without it being the end of the world for me.
Not that he would have any proof of that, from the way I'd been living lately. The most spontaneous I got these days was to make an impulse purchase while I was grocery shopping.
“Darling, you have to tell me where you are so that I can come rescue you,” Emmanuel said. “I'll bring you back home and get you all settled in where you're comfortable...”
Suddenly, I was replaying all of my interactions with Emmanuel in my mind, remembering all the times he had coddled me. Of course, he'd done it under the guise of acting like a gentleman, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he treated me like a fragile possession that he had to take care of but didn't much care for.
My eyes slid over to Thorn, and I stared at him for a long moment, trying to puzzle out my feelings as Emmanuel continued to give me patronizing assurances over the phone. Maybe that was part of what had driven me to go along with Thorn. Maybe that was part of my attraction to the man. For all that he had gotten me caught up in something totally illegal, for all that he was impulsive in all the wrong ways, he actually expected me to be able to reason and hold my own. He expected that a little danger wouldn't destroy me. And I appreciated that.
“Emmanuel, I have to go,” I said, voice firmer than it had been at any point during the call. Without waiting for a response from him, I hung up, still unable to tear my eyes from Thorn.
Thorn raised an eyebrow at me, folding his arms across his chest. “Who's Emmanuel?” he asked, tone dangerous.
I ducked my head a little, dropping my gaze. “Just ... a guy I know,” I said, not even sure how to describe who Emmanuel was. The man was charming, a real social butterfly — and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if he had just been playing with me all this time. Maybe he had kept leading me on, promising to be my boyfriend, and then had gone back to his posh group of friends and laughed about it all with them. Maybe.
“Who is Emmanuel?” Thorn asked again, his tone even more menacing. “The last thing I need is for someone else looking for you because you were sobbing into the phone while you were supposed to be having fun on vacation.”
His words were eerily close to the truth, and I wondered if he'd been able to hear Emmanuel's side of the call. But I didn't think my phone volume was turned up that high.
“It doesn't matter,” I finally said, shaking my head. “He's not important.” But I was crying again, this time in earnest.
Thorn looked torn for a moment, then he came over to the bed and sat down next to me, pulling me carefully into his arms. “Hey,” he said gently, lightly stroking my hair. “It's okay. You're going to be okay.”
I sobbed and clung to him, burying my face against his chest even though I knew I really had no right to be doing that. “He's the reason I was trying to be more spontaneous,” I finally told Thorn. “He told me he would date me if I was more spontaneous. But he doesn't really want me to be more spontaneous, he just wants ... a damsel in distress, I guess. He wants a silly doll that he can put up on a pedestal.”
“Guy sounds like a jackass,” Thorn muttered into my hair.
I shook my head. “He was really good to me,” I said. “Patronizing maybe, but good. And he never got me caught up in anything like this.”
“Except for how he kind of did,” Thorn pointed out. “If you hadn't been trying to be more adventurous, would you be where you are now?”
I shook my head again, trying to get my tears under control. I sniffled a little and pulled away from Thorn, even though I almost wanted to stay there against his solid torso for the rest of the night, burrowed against his warmth and protection. I wanted that, but I didn't need it — and I supposed that was the real difference between Thorn and Emmanuel.
“I'm okay,” I said, although my voice was still a bit watery. I tried a smile and shrugged a little. “Sorry to go to pieces on you like that. I'm going to go get cleaned up.”
“Okay,” Thorn said, his voice still impossibly gentle as he reached up to wipe one last tear from my cheek. Then, his voice turned gruff: “For what it's worth, I think you deserve better than him.”
I shook my head. “You don't even know him,” I said. “And anyway, I'm not sure how much I value the opinion of a criminal.” But I couldn't help smiling a little at him. “Thanks,” I said softly.