by Brooks, Anna
Betty is sitting at the desk when I walk up. Mary’s in the laundry room, so I have some time.
“Hey.” I lean on the counter. “Got a minute?”
She puts down her book and smiles. “I’ve always got time for you, hot stuff.”
If I weren’t on a mission, I would probably laugh at her comment. “I want to get Mary out of here and I need your help.” I’m not sugarcoating shit; this has got to fucking end.
“I know,” she sighs.
“So I need you to fire her.”
Her face gets red and she looks around. “Come here.” She motions for me to lean in. “You smell good.”
“Uh. Thanks.”
“Do you know how long I’ve owned this place?”
“No, I don’t.”
“A long time. Almost forty years.”
“That is a long time,” I agree and try to appear patient, but I don’t have time for small talk. Work is kicking my ass, and between that and everything going on with Mary, all I want to do is go home. But I can’t, so the alternative is to go back to the room, take a hot ass shower in an itty bitty stall, sit on a worn ass mattress, and watch crappy TV.
“And I’ve been thinking about selling for a while now.”
“Okay.”
“So I put it on the market the day after she told me that you were back in her life.”
I try not to let the shock register too hard. “That’s good. Have you had any interest?”
She leans back and the chair squeaks, then she crosses her arms over her chest. “I know Mary deserves better than the life she has. She’s a sweet girl and I love her like she was my own. Maybe I did the wrong thing by keeping her here and hiding her secrets.”
I shake my head. “No. You didn’t. Life is full of choices, and you made the one you thought was right. You kept her safe and secure. It’s what she wanted, and honestly, if you hadn’t taken her in, she could be somewhere much worse right now.” I clench my jaw at the thought of what else could have happened to Mary if Betty hadn’t taken her in. I’ve seen too many homicides of women who had nobody to help them when times got tough.
“Thanks for that.” She pats my hand and squeezes it. “How on Earth did you get muscles in your hand? They’re so strong.”
That’s not awkward. I pull my hand away and shove it in my pocket. “Thanks?”
“No. Thank you. Anyways, the moral of my story is that I’ve got a potential buyer.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And if everything goes according to plan, I could rid myself of this place in two months.”
I groan at the thought of being stuck here for another two months but try to focus on the bigger picture. “Have you told Mary?”
“No, not yet. I want to make sure everything is a hundred percent before I break it to her. I’ve wanted to sell for a long time, but I wasn’t sure what would happen to her. Now that she has you, I know she’ll be okay, so I’m more than ready to be done.”
The light at the end of the tunnel is no longer the size of a pin. It’s opened up and I can almost see right through it. “You’re right. I’ll take care of her.”
“I’m supposed to hear from the realtor by Christmas.”
That’s less than two weeks away; I can live with that. “Okay. Keep me posted.”
“I will.” She picks up her book and I start to walk away. “Oh, and Brandon?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for being there for her. I know this must be hard for you but imagine what she’s feeling. Give her some more time and everything will work out.”
At this moment, it hits me how much of an asshole I am. Yes, I want to get her the fuck out of here, but it’s only been six months. I’ll wait as long as she needs.
Chapter 14
Mary
“Please, Mary. It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake.”
Brandon stands in a towel, brushing his teeth while I smooth lotion over my legs and arms. He’s been asking me to come to his parents’ house for Christmas. Actually, for the past week or so, he’s laid off me completely about everything else and has only focused on Christmas. I want to . . . so bad.
He’s frustrated with me. Hell, I’m frustrated with myself. I give myself pep talks when I’m alone that I need to grow up and move on with my life. Every morning I wake up thinking today will be the day that I tell Betty I want to move out. I figure I can start by moving somewhere close and still work for her. If I manage that . . . I’m not even sure what would be next. Baby steps.
Then I walk outside and take in my crappy surroundings. The chipped brick falling off the building. The horns blaring and cars whooshing by from the interstate. My home. I get lost in the monotony of my work. The calmness of familiarity. When the day is done and Brandon holds me, I realize I’m not good enough for him.
An image of going out with him and meeting his friends and co-workers haunts me. I imagine him introducing me, and people asking what I do. The answers are anywhere from him lying about my job to everyone laughing and anything else between. The scenarios flash like a movie. How could he not be embarrassed by my life? I pretend I’m not, but of course I am. I live in a fucking motel like a recluse.
How is that something he can be proud of? Why would he want anyone to meet me when I don’t have anything to offer him?
But his family doesn’t make me feel embarrassed. In fact, any encounter I’ve had with them gives me the impression they’re proud of me. I desperately want to spend more time with them but have to hold myself back. I don’t want to get too attached and have something happen between Brandon and me. I can’t bear the thought of losing them again.
“Christmas is in two days, and I’m sure your mom already has everything planned. I don’t want to ruin that.”
“Babe.”
“Yes?”
He stands in front of me, and I have to force myself to look into his eyes and not stare at the bulge under his towel or his ripped chest. But when I know what’s under that towel, it’s impossible not to let my imagination get the best of me. Especially when my body craves him like a drug. One thing that hasn’t changed is my body’s desire for him. I might as well be a teenager again with the way my hormones react to him.
“Do you honestly think for one minute that you could ‘ruin’ Mom’s plans? Better yet, you know her. And that means you know that she’s already planning on you coming.”
“She is?”
“Uh. Yeah. Of course she is.”
It would be really nice to spend Christmas with everyone again. And I hope this will show him that I’m trying. “Okay.” I smile. “Oh, crap. I forgot about Betty.” We always spend Christmas together; we have a tradition of breakfast for dinner. She has nobody else either, and we’ve always been happy with our arrangement. And since somebody always needs to be here to check people in and out, she never leaves.
“She can come, too.”
“I can’t do that to your mom.”
He rolls his eyes and reaches behind him to grab his phone. Once he dials the number, he puts it on speaker and shakes his head at me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi. How are you? How’s Mary?” Elizabeth asks. Automatically. I love that woman.
“We’re good, and Mary’s with me. You’re on speaker.”
“Oh! Hi, Mary.”
“Hey,” I answer.
“So, Mom, Mary’s coming to Christmas and—”
“That’s wonderful! I have more than enough food and was hoping she would so I could give her her presents,” she interrupts him and Brandon gives me an I told you so look.
“Anyway,” he continues. “Remember me telling you about Betty, the lady who owns the motel?”
“Yes.”
“Mary usually spends Christmas with her.”
“Have her come, too. The more, the merrier.”
Again, Brandon raises his brows at me, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“Are you sure, Eli
zabeth? I don’t want to make more work for you, and I can bring—”
“Don’t you even think like that, Mary. You know I always make too much.”
“Are you sure?” I ask again for good measure.
“Positive.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“All right, Mom. We’ll see you in a couple of days. Let me know if you need me to bring anything.”
“Just yourselves, dear.”
He hangs up and throws the phone on the bed then tackles me, pressing his hard body against mine and pinning my hands above my head. “Told you,” he whispers against my neck.
“I don’t want to be a burden. You have to remember how much of an adjustment all this is for me.”
He stills and rises up a bit so he can look into my eyes. “You could never be a burden. And I’m proud of how far you’ve come already. I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick.”
“You haven’t. I’m the one who’s acted like a bitch and been all wishy-washy. I’m trying, really I am.”
“I know you have. I’m just impatient.”
“No shit, Sherlock. You always were.”
“I really haven’t changed all that much. I’m still impatient.” He grinds his pelvis between my legs. “And I still want to bury myself between your legs every time I see you. And right now, I’m really impatient to get there.”
“Now who’s being a burden?” I smirk at him right before he slams his mouth to mine and does what he’s been waiting for.
* * *
I stand in front of the counter. “Betty, I need to talk to you.”
She’s in her usual spot at the desk and I’ve hurried to get all my work done today early. Partially because I need to have this conversation with her, and partially because I need to get ready for Christmas tomorrow.
“What’s up?”
“Christmas is tomorrow.”
“I know.” She laughs.
“And I know we’ve spent the last twelve together, but Brandon invited me to his parents’ house, and I want to go.”
“Good. You should. I hope you have a great time.”
“Really? You’re not mad?”
She waves her hand around in the air. “Pshhh. Why would I be?”
“I want you to come with me. Elizabeth already said it’s okay.”
She shakes her head slowly, reaches for my hand, and smiles. Not a funny-ha-ha smile but a genuine smile of happiness.
“No. You go. I’ll stay here and man the fort. I can’t leave the place alone.”
“Betty,” I argue. “Nobody should be alone on Christmas. You can put a sign up or something saying you’ll be right back. Just a few hours.”
“Listen. Sit down. We need to talk anyway. I was going to wait until after the holidays, but since you’re here now . . .” She shrugs.
My gut turns at the sudden somber tone in her voice. “I’m fine standing. What’s wrong?”
She presses her lips together before she speaks. “This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
“What?”
“I’m selling the motel.”
I pull in a breath and put my hands on the counter to steady myself. My mind is spinning a million thoughts. And selfishly, they’re mostly about me. Where will I go? What will I do for work? I think about where Betty will go, but when I look at her, she’s smiling. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going on a cruise. Hell, maybe I’ll go on two. I’ve dedicated my life to this place. When Henry died so young, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”
I remember Betty telling me about how she and Henry were high school sweethearts. Henry worked across the street at the gas station and Betty was the maid here. Eventually, the motel went up for sale, and after they had got married, they decided to buy it. It was only a short while after they took ownership when Henry passed away. So she was left with a decision, and because all she had aside from Henry was the motel, she kept it and ran it on her own, doing both jobs until I came along.
“Reminds me of you,” she says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What does?”
“Our lives. Not exactly the same, but this place.” She gestures around. I take a second to really look. The walls are caving in, and the ceiling is missing tiles. I’ve scrubbed the floor numerous times, but nothing gets the stains off the once white tile. “It’s not where you should be living your life. I shouldn’t have, either. I should have left when Henry died. But it was the only thing I had left of him.”
She wipes under her eyes and I give her a tight smile.
“But you. You’re a brave, beautiful, smart young woman. You still have your whole life ahead of you. And now that I know you’ll be taken care of, it’s time for me to let it go.”
“Betty . . .”
“I’ve already talked to Brandon. He’s going to make sure you’re okay.”
That catches my attention. “You what?”
“He’s going to take care of you. I’m going to cruise around the world in a gigantic boat.”
I’m speechless. Part of me thinks I should be pissed at Brandon for not telling me he knew. But I know he wanted it to come from Betty, so I can’t fault him for that.
This is my life, the only home I really know anymore. Betty is my one constant. “But, what am I supposed to do?”
“You’re getting out of here and living your life.”
I stare at her triumphant smile, not fully processing this new information. I have a life. And now it’s all going to be taken away from me.
“Mary—” she pats my arm and nods her head “—this is a good thing.”
“No. It’s not. Because if things didn’t work out, I could always come back here, ya know? This was my safety net. Now it’s gone.”
“You don’t need a safety net.”
Listen to me. I’m thirty years old talking about a fucking safety net. When did I become such a baby? I thought I was strong, but the past six months have made me realize what an insecure wuss I really am.
“No. You’re right.” I walk around the desk and give her a hug. “You’re right. What’s happening to the building? Who bought it?”
“A land developer bought it. They’re gonna tear it down and put office buildings or something up. I don’t really know, and honestly, I don’t care.”
“I’m happy for you.”
She pulls me back and grabs my upper arms, giving me a squeeze. “I’m happy for you, too.”
* * *
“Merry Christmas!” Elizabeth yells and runs over to give me a hug as soon as we walk into the house.
“Merry Christmas,” I answer and hug her back.
Brandon and I follow her to the kitchen where I set down the flowers I brought.
“They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to bring anything.”
I wave her off and Brandon slides my coat off then places a kiss on my shoulder before grabbing a beer and walking out of the room.
“What do you need help with?”
“Nothing at all. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll get it.” I cross the kitchen to the fridge and pull out a bottle of wine. I hold it up and ask if she wants a glass.
“Yes, please.”
We chitchat and drink wine. I tell her how Betty sold the motel and I have to move out and find a job in less than a month and a half.
“I’m sure something will come up. What do you want to do?”
“Brandon asked me the same thing. I don’t know.”
She stops whipping potatoes and wipes her hands on her apron. “Well, what is something that interests you?”
I shrug, running my finger along the rim of my glass. “I really haven’t thought about it.” What do I have to think about? I don’t really have many life experiences.
“You used to want to be a teacher.”
“I’m thirty years old. A little too late to go back to school.”
“You want to go back to school?” Brandon’s voice startles
me, and I spin in the stool to face him.
“Maybe. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Go to school,” he insists.
“I can’t just go to school. I’m going to have bills to pay.”
His eyes widen and he tilts his head. “What bills?”
“Rent, electricity, groceries.” He stares blankly at me. “Bills.”
He looks up at his mom and rolls his neck. “Give us a minute?”
She’s smiling so wide, it looks like she’s laughing. “Sure.”
As soon as she’s out of earshot, he glares at me, and I take a very large swallow of wine.
“I’m only saying this one more time. You’re moving in with me.”
I think about arguing right now, but he looks far too determined, so I listen.
“What you are not doing, is getting your own place since we both know I go where you go. So it would be fucking pointless to have two separate apartments. Me staying at the motel is already getting old as shit anyway. But I do it for you. Because I know you need time and I can’t stay away from you.”
When I talked to him last night about what Betty and I talked about, he told me then that I was moving in with him. I know it’s coming, but I’m afraid he’ll get sick of me, and then I’ll be screwed. “I can’t move in with you.”
“Why the fuck not?” he grits between clenched teeth.
I don’t have a good reason other than my own insecurities. But looking at him now, seeing the passion in his eyes, gives me the strength I need to go for it. This is what I want. He’s all I’ve ever wanted and I’d be an idiot to pass this up. I’ve already lost him once and survived; if he decides he doesn’t want to be with me anymore, I don’t know how, but I would find a way to move on. Might as well take the leap and pray he’s there to catch me.
“Umm . . .”
“Exactly. You can’t think of a good reason because there isn’t one.”
I tap my fingers on the counter and stand, setting my hands on his chest. “I’ve been told I snore.”
He relaxes under my fingers and smiles. It lets me know we’re going to be okay. I can do this; we can do this.
