The moment my eyes finally met his, he said, “That was another lifetime, Ryan. Another fucking life. We’ve both moved on, and that’s behind us now. Let’s leave it there, okay?”
I nodded, but my heart knew the truth. It wasn’t behind us. It wasn’t a different life. The only way to move forward was to delve back into the past.
THE NEXT MORNING, I was up with the sun, as was typical. I was exhausted most of the day, but as soon as I crawled into bed, I couldn’t sleep. Sipping my watered down motel room coffee, I scanned through a list of rental houses in the area. I wasn’t sure I wanted to settle down here, but I couldn’t stay in a motel indefinitely either.
Now that Aunt May was gone, I didn’t have anyone else who felt like family. Grant was the next closest person, which was sad. The next closest person in my life was someone I hadn’t spoken to in seven years.
So I figured this was as good a place as any to find a little house to rent and settle into. At least I knew some people who lived in the area, had the inside knowledge on the best takeout, and was confident the cost of living was within my budget. At least for the moment. Where Grant was, up in the heart of New York City, I didn’t even want to know what a little house would cost to rent. I probably couldn’t even afford a coat closet there.
As I scanned the rental listings, I bookmarked a few to check out, then I wandered to the front door to soak up a little bit of sunshine in my bathrobe before the rest of the world woke up. The perks of becoming an insomniac included being awake to witness the sunrise. Before the past year, I’d maybe watched a handful of sunrises, but now, I’d watched ninety-three. Ninety-four, counting the one I was about to witness.
The motel was a fairly quiet one, but it was clean and had nice big rooms, complete with a full kitchen. Plus, it was affordable, which was something I had to consider every time I pulled my wallet out, even if it was only to buy ice cream. I’d saved up a fair amount, but now that I wasn’t working, that number would only shrink. I needed it to last as long as possible.
As I started unlocking the two chain locks before undoing the deadbolt, I smiled, thinking about how Grant would have at least approved of the locks on the motel’s doors. He’d looked so concerned last night when he dropped me off—like this place wasn’t fit to sit out a life sentence in.
Grant had always taken over protection to an extreme, but he had legitimate reasons for it. With the stuff we’d seen on a daily basis—with the stuff we’d both gone through—there was no practical way to stay safe unless a person was overprotective. It didn’t help that Grant’s and my first meeting had occurred when a troubled, pissed-off-at-the-world teenage boy was saving a terrified nine-year-old girl from the scum of the earth.
The same scum her mother had invited into their apartment, only to pass out from the drugs said scum had shot into her veins. No doubt his whole plan was to get me alone.
Grant’s overprotective streak had been birthed from a place of necessity, but I’d gone so long without it that last night felt especially intense. I’d doubted he’d changed any, but I had. I’d figured out that all of that protection was only an illusion, because it couldn’t save us from what we were all ultimately running from.
As soon as I swung the door open, I stepped outside into the chill of the morning air. Closing my eyes, I tipped my face toward the sun, ready to let it warm me, when I suddenly got the impression I wasn’t alone.
Not even a little bit.
I heard the explosion of noise come to life a second before my eyes popped open. It only dialed up a few decibels, as people holding cameras and microphones came charging across the parking lot toward where I was hovering outside of my motel room. In my bathrobe. Hair a cyclone on top of my head. Drool probably still dried on the side of my mouth.
The surprise of it all froze me in place for a minute, but then I heard a name being shouted by one of the people now waving their microphones and cameras in my face. His name.
Shit. Of course. Why else would a million reporters be hanging outside of the Starlight Motel at six o’clock on a Tuesday morning?
Someone must have recognized him or his truck last night and tipped off the press. Damn. I hadn’t even considered all that came with Grant being who he was today. I mean, yeah, I knew he was an icon, but I hadn’t really considered the spillover into other facets of his life.
Like the nation’s media camping out outside the motel room of the woman he’d been caught dropping off the night before.
With a dozen questions a second firing at me, I was finally able to move. Flying back into the room, I slammed the door closed, relocked every last dead bolt and chain, and raced to where my phone was sitting on the table. My heart was hammering as I punched in a number. It wasn’t one I’d programmed into my phone. It wasn’t one I’d called in years. It wasn’t one I was sure was even still in operation.
It was a number from my past, one I thought I’d long ago forgotten until the numbers came rushing back.
There was a click on the other end. Just when I was expecting an automated message about this number no longer being in service, his voice greeted me instead. “Hello?” He didn’t sound like he’d been asleep.
“Grant?” I exhaled with relief. “It’s—”
“What’s the matter, Ryan?” In the background, I heard some noise like he was moving around quickly.
“I don’t know.” Too much adrenaline was coursing through me, my heart still throbbing. “There’re people, lots of them, outside.” I could only speak in broken thoughts and sentences.