“What?” Quinn says in an almost whisper .
I look back into the book to make sure I saw the right name, my hands gripping the book so hard to make sure that no one can see my shaking hands “Mirth Motel.” I try to make sure that my voice doesn’t crack either.
“Oh, dear,” Shirley says under her breath, and I look at her, confused.
"You aren’t going to a motel." His voice comes out tight, and when I look at him, I see that he has his hands at his sides, balled into fists.
I swallow because there is no way I can afford a hotel. At this point, I don’t even think I can spend more than two days in a motel. I’ll let them think I’m staying there and then take off after one day.
I might be slower this time around with only one arm, but by tomorrow, this town will be a distant memory. I swallow down the lump that is the size of a baseball in my throat. "As long as there is a bed and a shower, anything will do," I mumble. I’m looking at the listing in the phone book, but the tears in my eyes make my sight blurry.
"You aren’t going to a motel,” he says again, and I can’t look up. He turns and walks out of the room.
I hear Shirley snicker from beside me, and I look at her. “Honey," she says. “I give you credit for trying to be independent." She shakes her head. “But that man is never going to let you stay in a motel."
"My whole life,” I say. “I’ve had someone tell me where I need to be. I can go where I want to go."
"I get that,” she says, blinking away her own tears. “But your whole life, you’ve never had someone put your needs before theirs." A lone tear escapes. “It’s too late to release you anyway," she says, looking at me. “I know it’s hard. But try to see the good in it."
She turns to walk out of the room, and I look at the yellow pages, wondering if any of them take reservations. My hands start to sweat, and my eyes move on their own to look out into the hallway. Shirley stands beside Quinn, who runs his hands through his hair as she talks to him. I swallow the lump in my throat as I watch him for a second longer than I should. “He feels sorry for you.” I hear my mother’s voice and close my eyes, pushing it away.
“Shirley just said that you’ll be able to leave tomorrow.” Opening my eyes, I look at him. He stands there with his hands in his back pockets, and I take a mental picture of him. Even though I’m certain that if my eyes were blindfolded and they placed him in front of me, I could tell who he is just by touching him.
“That’s the plan,” I tell him, my eyes going back to the yellow pages. The book suddenly feels like it’s a hundred pounds on my lap.
"Willow,” he says my name, and I make the mistake of looking up at him. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, which makes him that much more dangerous.
"Quinn,” I say his name and then look out the window at the lone bird flying in the sky. "Just drop it." I look back at him.
"I’ve learned in my family that you have to pick your battles,” he says. “Some are harder to win than others." He laughs. “You’ll see what I mean when you meet them." I want to scream at him to get out of my room. I want to scream at him that I don’t want to meet them. I want to scream at him because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, and I can’t let myself wish for it.
"You did your duty," I tell him as I look at him. “You did everything you had to do. You found me, and you made sure I was safe." I swallow, trying to think about the words I’m about to say. “There is nothing left for you to do. This is the end of the road. I’m fine." My heart beats so loud it’s surprising no one can hear it.
He just looks at me as we have a staredown in the middle of the room. He doesn’t say a word to me. All he does is stare at me. And just like that, another chapter is closed. "I’m going to walk,” I say, getting out of the bed and walking out of the room.
"Are you going for another walk?" Shirley asks, and I smile at her, hoping that Quinn hasn’t followed me out.
"Just a short one,” I say to her as I walk down the hallway. "Do you like living here, Shirley?" I ask, and she nods.
"I would never live anywhere else,” she says as she walks beside me.
"Why?" I ask, and she looks over at me.
"We jumped from house to house," I tell her. “There was no place we went that I had a chance to settle."
"Oh, honey," she says with her soft eyes, and I have to admit I’m really going to miss her. "You need to plant some roots,” she says. “Make a list of things you want out of your life."
"I can do that." I smile at her sideways and then look back down again.
I make a mental note in my head while we walk in the silence. Someplace where I feel like I’m home, I tell myself. Someplace where I never have to hide. Someplace where I can sit out on a porch and not have to worry that someone will tell me I have to leave.
“I have no doubt you’ll see what is in front of your eyes this whole time,” she says and gives me a hug. “I have faith.”
I don’t say anything else to her, and when I walk back into the room, Quinn is in the chair, his eyes on his phone as he types away. “Are you tired?"
"A little,” I say, slipping into the bed, and no matter how much I fight it, my eyes give out, and I fall asleep. I wake a couple of times during the night, and every single time I look over at him, he is standing looking outside. He’ll be fine, my inner voice tells me. Everything is going to be fine. I close my eyes again, but I don’t fall back asleep for a long time.
I miss the morning sunrise, and when I open my eyes, he’s in the same spot, but he has a coffee cup in his hand from the vending machine. "Morning," I say to him as I blink away the sleep. He turns around, and I can tell that he’s been up all night.
"Hey," he says, turning. “You sleep good?"
"Better than you,” I say, sitting up in the middle of the bed. “I woke a couple of times, and you were standing, watching out the window."
He’s about to say something when we both hear a knock on the door. Our heads turn, and I see Chelsea standing there. “Good morning,” she says as she walks in with another blonde behind her. "Did you just wake up?"
"I did,” I say, looking at her and then the blonde, and I suddenly remember she was the one who brought something to Quinn the other day.
"This is my cousin Amelia,” she says, pointing at the girl beside her with her thumb. “Amelia, this is Willow."
"The famous Willow,” she says with a smile, coming to me. “It’s so good to meet you,” she says, and I see that she is holding a black bag in both hands. “How are you feeling?"
"Good,” I say, looking at her and the bag again.
"What are you guys doing here?" I ask and then look at Quinn, who hides his smile behind his coffee cup.
"We’ve come to take you home," Amelia says, holding up the bag in her hand.
"What?" I whisper.
"We’ve come to take you home,” Chelsea says with a smile on her face. “Well, Quinn’s home, but Amelia will be staying there so you can be more comfortable."
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. “Um," I say nervously as I hear the sound of my breathing getting heavier and heavier. "I’m sorry," I say, shaking my head. “What?"
"They are here to take you home, Willow,” Quinn finally says, leaving me stunned and speechless.
Chapter 17
Quinn
"They are here to take you home, Willow,” I say, and her face goes just a touch white.
She has no idea what to say or where to look. "Home?" She looks at me and then at Chelsea and Amelia. She’s about to say something else when another knock comes from the doorway.
I look to see Shirley coming in dressed in her usual scrubs. Her hair is tied back with her glasses at the tip of her nose. "Good morning," Shirley says. Coming into the room, she sees Amelia and Chelsea. “Who do we have here?" Her eyes go to me and then to Willow, who looks around scared of what is going on.
"You remember Chelsea,” I say, and I see her roll her eye
s at me. “Ouch." I look at Chelsea. “You obviously were on her bad side."
"Shut up," Chelsea says to me. “Hi, Shirley."
"Hey, sugar,” she says, looking at her. “How’re you feeling?"
"Good,” she says. “A little tired but it’s fine."
"I’m Amelia," Amelia says. “We met once." Amelia extends her hand to her.
"Nice seeing you again,” Shirley says, looking at her and then at Willow, who is just sitting on the bed watching all of this. "What’s with the bag?" She points at the big bag they brought in. So much for being undercover or whatever it was that we texted.
"This is some stuff for Willow." Amelia smiles, looking at Willow, whose face is still confused.
"We’ve come to spring her,” Chelsea says, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands with glee.
"Is that so?" Shirley says and then looks at Willow.
"I’m not going to lie,” Chelsea says. “When I was finally discharged, I couldn’t wait to get home." Her lips turn up in a smile. "Not that I didn’t love you."
Shirley laughs at her. “How about we get you showered?" She looks at Willow, who nods her head.
She gets out of bed, slowly holding the bed to make sure her legs will hold her. She walks over to her black backpack and picks it up, then follows Shirley into the bathroom. "I’m fine." She looks back at Shirley. “I’ll be okay."
"Do you want me to help untie your sling?" she asks, and Willow shakes her head.
"No," Willow says. “I did it yesterday by myself."
She nods at her and smiles. “Don’t forget there is the button you can press if you need help."
"I won’t,” she says and turns around, closing the door.
No one says a word as we hear the click of the door close. I hold my breath, waiting to see if she locks the door. I am not the only one. Shirley does also. When we hear the sound of the shower, Shirley turns around and looks at me.
"Brought out the big guns." She folds her hands over her chest and looks at me from above her glasses that sit on her nose.
"I did what I had to do,” I say. “She was going to go and stay in a rat-infested motel.” I shake my head. “I was not about to let that happen.”
“You’re a good guy, Quinn," she says. “If you hurt her …"
"I’ll cut him off at the knees,” Chelsea says.
"I’ll shoot him in the ass,” Amelia says, folding her arms over her chest.
Shirley laughs and claps her hands in front of her. “Oh, she is going to fit in just fine,” she says, walking out of the room.
"Okay," Amelia says, turning to look at me. “What the fuck just happened?"
"I don’t know what you mean,” I say, leaning back on the window. My legs are exhausted after standing all night, but nothing could have gotten me to sleep.
When I walked in and found out she was being released, I about jumped for joy. It was about time, and then the fear set in. What if she got a headache and her brain started to bleed again? What if she woke up in the middle of the night with pain and it took me too long to get to the hospital? What if I couldn’t take care of her? What if she didn’t let me take care of her? The pain was just too much to bear, and I had to sit in the chair.
My head was going around in circles, and I was trying to get my thoughts in order when she asked for a phone book and then mentioned staying in a motel. A rat-infested motel. A motel where she would be alone. There was no way in fuck I would let that happen, but she was fighting it all the way. So, I did what I had to do. I messaged Chelsea and Amelia and set a plan in motion. I stayed up all night playing it over in my head.
"That woman in there looked like the floor was going to open and swallow her," Amelia says, pointing at the bathroom door. The sound of the shower is still going. My eyes stay on the door as I wonder if she is going to be okay.
"She looked scared to death,” Chelsea says in a whisper. “Did you not tell her?"
"Kind of," I start to say, and they both give me the death stare.
"Kind of?" Amelia says, and she folds her arms over her chest. "Kind of,” she says between clenched teeth. “What does that mean exactly?"
"It means," I start to say, looking at them, and I know that the minute I lie, they will both smell it. "It means that I told her.”
"And she told you fuck no," Amelia fills in the blank. "Idiot," she mumbles under her breath as she shakes her head.
I throw up my hands. “I mean, not in those words exactly." I look at them. “You don’t know what I was going through."
"You are out of your mind, Quinn Barnes,” Chelsea says, walking over to the chair and sitting down. "Forget about you, jackass." She puts her hand on her forehead. “Can you imagine what she is going through in there?"
"I can tell you what she isn’t going to go through." I look at both of them. “She is not going to go through the fear of not knowing where she is going to sleep. She is not going to go through wondering if she can shower today or tomorrow. She is never going to miss another fucking meal in her life." I stare at them. “Unless she fucking wants to."
"Did you tell her all this?" Chelsea asks me. I open my mouth to say something, but then I close it when she tilts her head to the side, waiting for me to stick my foot in my mouth.
"What do you think?" I look at her, my hands getting clammy. “Do you think I could tell her all this, and she wouldn’t fight me?" I look at both of them. “No matter how much I would have told her, she would have fought me." I don’t add in that she always fights me with everything.
"Her whole life has been someone deciding things for her. Dictating where she lives, when she eats, if she showers,” Chelsea says, wiping away a tear from her face. “And as much as I know that you are only doing this to help her."
"She needs to be able to decide for herself," Amelia says. “She needs to feel in control. For once in her life, she should be the one in control."
I run my hands through my hair. “What if she chooses to go to that motel? What if she decides that?” I look at them. “Then what?”
Amelia laughs at me. “Well, then you aren’t doing a good enough job."
"I agree with Amelia,” Chelsea says.
"Shocking,” I say, shaking my head. “You guys are always ganging up on me."
"No, we are just smarter than you,” Chelsea says. “Now, when she gets out of that shower, you are going to ask her where she wants to go."
"And what if she says no?" I look at them both. “What if, after all this, she says no?"
"Then you ask her why," Amelia says. “You ask her why, and you give her reasons,” she says, and I’m about to say something when she holds up her hand to stop me. “And because I said so isn’t the answer to anything." I laugh. “I’m not kidding, Quinn."
"She’s not kidding," Chelsea tells me, and we both stop talking when the door opens.
Willow walks out of the bathroom with her hair to the side. “Um,” she says, and I see her in the hospital gown again. “I don’t have shoes.”
“I have some,” Chelsea says, getting up and getting the bag that they brought in. “I didn’t know if you wanted flip-flops or running shoes.” She unzips the bag. “So I brought both.” Taking out a pair of each. “If they are too small, we can trade.”
“I’ll take the flip-flops,” Willow says. “That way, if they’re too small or too big, it won’t matter.” She smiles shyly at Chelsea. “Thank you."
"Did you need help with your hair?" Amelia says, going to her, and she just looks at her. "I broke my arm last year because someone didn’t watch where he was going."
"You broke your arm because you were too busy watching where Asher was going to look in front of you.” I pipe in. “Too busy looking at …”
“We get it.” Amelia holds up her hand at me, then turns back to look at Willow, who is rolling her lips, trying not to laugh. “Do you need help?”
“Um, sure,” she says softly, and I look at her.
I look at Chelsea, who mo
tions with her eyes toward Willow. “Go on," she mouths to me.
"Um, Willow," I start to say, and my tongue gets heavy in my mouth when she looks at me. "Do you really want to stay at the motel?"
She looks at me. “Excuse me?"
"Do you want to stay at the motel that you asked about yesterday?" I ask her again, and the whole room is so quiet you can hear the tick of the clock in the room.
"Or," Chelsea says, “you can stay with us."
"You don’t have to decide now,” I say. “You can. Um …" Why am I failing to find the words?
"How about we do your hair while Quinn thinks of ways to say he’s sorry," Amelia tells Willow, who just looks down at the floor. She nods her head, turning to walk into the bathroom.
Once the door clicks behind them, Chelsea lets out a snort. “What the hell is wrong with you?"
I look down at my hands and wipe them on the front of my legs. “Oh my God." She claps her hands and then hits her leg. “You’re nervous."
"I am not." I shake my head, denying it.
"The cool, calm, and collected Quinn Barnes is nervous." She laughs really loud.
"Would you shut up?" I hiss at her, looking at her and then the bathroom door.
"You are nervous and scared."
"Seriously, shut up," I hiss over at her, walk to the door, and then turn around when the door opens.
Amelia comes out, and I see she has tears in her eyes, and I take a step forward. “Don’t you dare."
"What’s wrong?” Chelsea says and gets up, and Amelia shakes her head.
"I need to get her a pair of jeans and a shirt,” she says, going to the bag and grabbing jeans and a shirt. “All her clothes are ripped and …" She puts her hand in front of her mouth to block the sob that is going to come out of her.
Chelsea rushes over to her. “I’ll take it to her." She grabs the things out of Amelia’s hand.
"Bring her two pairs of each,” I say. “Give her choices,” I say, and she walks back over and brings the whole bag with her.
Southern Heat Page 10
