Butch bounced his leg as he waited for Gidget to finish showering. Outside, rain drove hard against the pavement. Day 30. They’d been in Shreveport, in this fucking motel, for a full month.
And the last Butch had heard from Geo was almost two weeks ago.
He ran his thumb over his knuckles. It didn’t make sense that today of all days it would start bothering him. He’d trusted—maybe too blindly for his liking—that the club knew what was up. They’d be kept in the loop. They had to be, with Gidget here. No way they’d let Butch wander off and nobody would follow up. Something was in the works—it was just taking time.
That’s all he could keep telling himself.
Gidget seemed to waver between listless and enthralled. Shreveport was a fantasy world—for both of them. But sometimes the truth set in, and hard. They had no idea how long they’d be here. Maybe it was a fool’s hope to think shit would settle back in Sturgis in a few weeks, or even a few months. Maybe this was a long-haul thing. Hell, Butch didn’t know how this shit worked, and neither did Gidget. Even though she was born and bred in the club, this was a first-time thing for both of them.
The water snapped off, making Butch straighten his back. The rain made him jumpy. Probably because they were locked inside the motel until further notice. No way he’d take his bike out in this shit. It would be bad movies and ordering in until it eased up. Not that Gidget would mind.
Butch gnawed at the inside of his lip. Thirty days with this woman in this motel and hell if he wanted it to end. It was the damndest thing. Even though he was desperate for news, and eager to find the once-and-for-all solution to this Skulls drama, he wouldn’t mind if this situation with Gidget continued after the fact. Some sort of place to call their own…a little apartment…definitely needed to be bigger than this motel room, that was for sure…
The door opened and steam poured out. Gidget strutted into the hotel room, looking satisfied.
“Good shower?” A smile broke across his face, as it always did when he spotted her. It was a kneejerk reaction, one of those things he couldn’t control, like the beating of his heart.
“The best.”
“You ready for another movie and pizza night?” He jerked his head toward the window. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there.”
“That’s such a silly saying,” she said, squeezing moisture out of her hair. “Where does it come from?”
Butch shrugged, looking back toward the window. “The fact that there are cats falling from the goddamn sky right now.”
She snickered. “You know, you talk more now.”
“What?”
“You talk more.” She grinned at him through the mirror, sly like she knew a secret. “Back when we first met, it was like pulling teeth to get you to say more than two words at a time.”
“I said more than two words at a time,” he countered.
“Not usually.” She tutted. “But look at you now. Talking to me like you like me.”
He shook his head, turning away to hide his grin. “Of course I like you.” His chest tightened. There was something else on his tongue too, but that wouldn’t come out. Not now, not ever. It didn’t come out of him for no one.
“Just saying. It’s amazing what a little quarantine can do.” Gidget wrapped her towel around her chest, then rummaged for something in her toiletry bag. “Sometimes it feels like we’re married.”
His gaze fell to the carpet as he repeated her words in his head, over and over again. They hung bulky and strange there. “Is that a good thing?”
“You tell me.”
He looked up and saw her wink at him through the mirror. “You might not be so bad as an old lady. That what you wanna hear?”
Her face fell a little bit as she squirted moisturizer onto her fingertips. “I think I’d be a damn fine old lady.”
He huffed with a laugh. “Is that all you wanna be?”
Her silence turned stony, making a pit form in his stomach. Maybe he’d overstepped there.
“Of course not,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t you even know me by now?”
He looked away. Fuck.
“Maybe all this time together and you can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to even see who I am,” Gidget spat, rubbing furious circles into her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, of course you didn’t mean that. Like you haven’t been watching me try to build my fucking business, or keep my only one meaningful job in my industry, or grow my followers or—”
“Gidget.”
“Fuck you.” Her neck was flushed. “You don’t take me seriously.”
He let a terse sigh. This was not where he’d expected this to go. Not by a long shot.
“And don’t sigh like that either,” she said, glaring at him through the mirror. “You probably think I’m just some irrational kid, don’t you?”
He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “Gidget.”
She huffed but kept quiet.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
She frowned as she searched for something in her toiletry bag, remaining silent.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” Butch started. But he didn’t know what else to say. She’d blown up in a big way, a way he’d never seen from her before. He’d never seen her so insecure. Doubt was etched into her face as she brushed a powder over her cheeks.
“Whatever,” she mumbled, sniffing.
Butch let a long silence hang, unsure where to go from here. Maybe they really were a married couple now. Nonsensical spats spurred from nothing. Shit, she’d been laughing with him two minutes ago. Maybe it was her period.
Gidget didn’t bring it up again as she worked on her face, applying some light makeup. Butch thought maybe it was too much if they were just gonna stay in, but after what just happened, he figured he’d keep his mouth shut.
Almost a half hour went by where nobody said anything. Butch flipped on the television when the silence grew unbearable.
A while later, Gidget slunk onto the bed beside him but kept her distance. He looked her up and down. He could tell she was eager to make amends but didn’t know where to start.
He tossed an arm around her, dragging her closer. She pouted and resisted, but a smile broke through anyway. She snuggled up to him like a kitten.
“All better?” he murmured into her hair.
“Yeah, I guess.” She sighed a little.
“You know it’s raining out,” he said.
“I know.”
“So why’d you spend all that time putting your face on?”
She swatted at his chest. “I was mad. I needed to think.”
He grinned. “And that’s how think?”
“Yes. And don’t you make fun of me, or else that’ll start all over again.” She lifted her head to send him a stern look.
“All right. All right. Trust me, you’re the queen around here.” He flipped through the channels, trying to find something rainy-day appropriate. Something that might make him feel a little bit less of a married man, too. Because although he sorta liked it, it was hard to even admit that he did.
“That’s right,” she said, settling into place against his chest. “The queen.”
“And I’m just the little guy you hire to keep you entertained,” he said, laughing a little. It made her head bounce up and down.
“The jester,” she clarified. Then she looked up at him, resting her chin against his sternum. “No, you’re not the jester. You’re the king.”
He tutted, heat scorching through him. Why was it sexy to talk about this shit with her? “Now you’re really making it sound like we’re married.”
She sent him a mysterious smile and nestled back into place. Butch clicked through the channels, unable to erase his lingering grin.
***
A few days later, the air had mostly cleared between him and Gidget. They’d done a few fun things, gone to a new restaurant, and she spent as much time as she could on her promotions. But in the back of his mind, he half-waited for another strange outburst. It was like the air before a thunderstorm—he could feel the barometric drop in the atmosphere around them. Something was up with Gidget. And what unnerved him was that he could sense it before she even opened her mouth that morning.
She rolled out of bed and went straight to the bathroom. Butch lay tense in the bed, listening for abnormalities. Maybe the long-haul nature of shacking up in the motel was finally getting to her. Making her crack. Little did she know being stuck in this motel was still the definition of paradise compared to being on the inside.
She came out of the bathroom a few moments later. Water rushed from the sink. He rolled over to watch her in the mirror. She stared at herself, a strange scowl on her pretty lips.
“Morning,” he said.
She grunted, wiping off her hands on a towel. She clambered back into the bed, tugging the sheets over her head. Yeah, today was already off to a weird start. This chronic go-getter in the morning was opting for burying her head in the covers.
“You feeling sick or something?” He sought out the curve of her waist under the sheets, bringing her hard against him. She relaxed a bit, burying her head in the crook of his arm.
“Yeah.” Her voice came out muffled against his chest.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugged and didn’t offer more. He stroked his fingers through her hair lazily as he thought.
“Well I can go get you something if you aren’t feeling good,” he said. “I’ll go get it and be back in a flash.”
She mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“I said I can go with you,” she said, lifting her head up to speak more clearly. But her voice was laced with something—exasperation. Like the amount of words she’d had to speak today was already too great.
“I’ll go get dressed,” he offered, rolling out of bed. She lay on top of the bed like she’d been flattened. He smirked to himself as he tugged his jeans on. When she didn’t make a move by the time he was dressed, he said, “I can go for you, babe.”
“No.” She pushed herself up, scooting out of bed. “I’m coming.”
She dressed quickly, in much plainer clothes than what was common for her. Damn, Gidget must really be sick. There was something thrilling about it, though--seeing her at a time like this. It was more intimate. Made him feel more like they were…a thing. Something that might last outside the four walls of this hotel.
She tugged a ballcap down onto her head, wisps of blonde hair escaping. In sweats and a baggy t—shirt, she followed Butch out of the motel room, shuffling behind him like an invalid.
“You sure you good to go?” He swung a leg over his bike, watching her carefully. Something was seriously off. But her voice wasn’t rasping like she had a sore throat, and she didn’t look flushed from fever. She hadn’t been in the bathroom long enough for him to think she was puking up her guts, or shitting her brains out. Besides, the walls were thin; disgusting as it was, he would have heard her. But hell, he wasn’t a doctor. It could have been anything.
“I’m ready.” She scooted onto the bike behind him, clutching onto him tightly. He revved the bike and they sped off, the early morning air striking cool against his cheeks. The morning was gray and overcast, somehow appropriate for how Gidget had woken up. And even though she was mopey and sluggish, she was still cute as hell. There was something nice about taking care of her. He wanted to get her medicine and tuck her into bed, or whatever other sickening sweet shit he could do for her.
That was the weirdest part, too—he wanted to do those things. She wasn’t even asking him.
The ride to the pharmacy was quick. He parked the bike near the sliding door and they walked in. A bright, gleaming store greeted them, filled with aisles of stuff. Gidget blinked a few times, like she didn’t know where to start.
“Come on, babe.” He slung his arm over her shoulders, guiding her toward the far wall. A sign hung overhead that said Decongestants. “Let’s go over here.”
She went rigid under his arms, stilling though he tried to lead her forward.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, searching her face. She averted her gaze, tugging at the bill of her ballcap.
“I know what I need,” she said with a sigh, and stormed off. A chilly wake followed her, one that told him to back off. He watched her weave down the aisle, confusion wringing him into knots.
Staring after her, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and then scuffed down the first aisle, taking a good hard look at the miscellaneous shit for sale.
Space. That’s all he could give her.