I’m such an idiot.

I managed to hold my shit together until Noah… Westin… Diesel… left with his son to take him to school. I even managed to smile and hold still while he kissed me goodbye. A light kiss, no lips were open, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hell to endure just the same. He left and I went straight to my house. I packed an overnight bag and I hopped in my car.

I don’t exactly know where I’m going. It’s probably not Mexico and it’s probably not permanent. Tony hasn’t made a move in over a month. If he was going to, I think he would have by now. Maybe coming back and getting arrested, not to mention the beat down he got from Noah or… whoever-the-fuck-he-is, scared him. Tony’s not used to people standing up to him. He usually stands in my brother’s shadow, content to know my brother will protect him no matter what.

Him not showing up again after what went down means Tony isn’t doing what he normally does—which is fuck up my life. That’s good news and I like living here in Montana. I’m happy and I don’t really want to move. Despite my damn neighbor who I was falling in love with.

God.

I was falling in love with Noah. More than half of the way there, even. I felt myself going and I kept telling myself to be careful, but I couldn’t stop. I even knew he didn’t trust me around his son that much, but I thought that had changed. In the last few weeks, I really thought it had changed. Then, this morning, when he acted like an ass because I knew his name of all things? Normally, I would just get pissed, and I kind of was. Did he think I was the kind of woman who slept with a man when she didn’t know his name?

Okay, so maybe when it comes to Noah I would have. Still, there was no reason for a freak out over that shit. I wouldn’t have run off to lick my wounds then, however. I would have stayed, called him the asshole that he is and informed him that I deserve better. After which, I would have walked off acting all badass-ery and snuck home to have a cry and lose myself in a pint (or more) of chocolate ice cream.

What hurt something so deep in me that it hurt to remain breathing is how he moved over to Ryan, placing his body in front of him and looked at me as if I was the enemy. He actually thought I was going to hurt his son. He thought I was capable of hurting that sweet, beautiful child who I already loved in a way that I know I’d lay down my own life for the boy. He’s innocent and sweet, mischievous and funny, and… I love him. Just like I wanted to love his damn father.

I drive for about two hours. It’s not far enough away, but after the look on Noah’s face it’s not like he’s going to hunt for me. I just need time to figure out what in the hell I’m doing. Ms. Slater is never going to hire me now. I have excellent credentials and the board has to know it. Especially if they truly checked me out like Tony said—and I’m sure they did. Tony’s right, it’s stupid to think they wouldn’t follow up on things I had in my resume.

Whatever.

The point is, the board indicated they were taking their time with the hire, but it’s been long enough I should have heard back. If I didn’t get that job with my background, there’s a reason and most of it points to the fact that Mrs. Slater hasn’t forgiven me for taking Ryan that day. That means I definitely need to figure out where to go from here. I could spend the rest of my days working in the general store, which is okay. It’s a good job. Lots of people spend their lives working in retail either by necessity or by choice. I like talking to the customers and it’s pretty easy work where I’m at, but it’s not teaching. It’s not working with kids and watching them learn and I have to admit that I love working with kids.

If I want a teaching job, more than likely I will have to look outside of Whitefish. I’d have to sell my place if I move. I don’t know if that’s possible. There are empty duplexes, houses, and apartments everywhere there now.

I sigh as I pull into the parking lot of a dive no-tel motel. It’s shit, you can clearly see that from the peeling paint on the ancient siding, the flashing neon sign that has missing letters that flash intermittently—and I don’t think it’s supposed to.

As I get out of my car and walk to the front door of the place there’s a huge part of me that wants to run back. This motel reminds me of what would happen if The Bates Motel and a crack house had a baby.

In other words, not good.

Being broke—I’m learning—is not good. If I miss anything about my old life it would be the fact that I never worried about money. Then again, all of the shit I did have to worry about—life threatening shit—was much worse than worrying about money.

I didn’t know you could still find a room for twenty-nine-ninety-nine a night. I was riding my elation on that right as the clerk asked me if I wanted the room for an hour or all night. I found this slightly scary, but motored through. It took me all of five minutes and sixty dollars to secure a room for two nights.

The clerk hands me a key—yes, an actual key with a huge plastic brown fob with a gold number thirteen on it. I grab my bag and walk back outside and walk down thirteen dark green doors to find mine. It takes some effort and moving the key around—and the knob because it’s loose to the point you can see a crack between it and the door, but finally it unlocks and I’m inside.

The inside isn’t great. Paneling from the seventies and faded velour curtains and bedspread of the same green variety that the door is painted greet me. I’m guessing the owner really has a hard-on for that color. It smells musty, but at least on the surface it looks clean. I go to the double bed and lean down to push against the mattress. It’s hard as a rock, but beggars can’t be too choosey I suppose. I turn down the sheets and look at the mattress. It seems clean. I mean I don’t have a blacklight and I probably should be thankful for that. I did bring pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt and I have my own pillow—which is in the car I’ll need to go fetch. I’ll make do.

And hopefully my room, lucky number thirteen, will give me space to think about crap and I won’t spend the time thinking about Noah and how much this morning hurt me.