“What people?” The background noise came to a sudden quiet.
My mind searched for the word. The very word that was on the top of my mind, but I couldn’t pull from the hard drive. Moments like this drove me crazy. They made me feel like I’d already lost my mind, and that only made finally latching onto the word that much more difficult.
“Ryan?” Grant’s voice was sharp, worry making it so.
“The press.” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I knew I’d arrived at them. “They’re here. Dozens of them. Asking me a bunch of questions about you.”
There was a minute of silence, the only noise the sound of my heart echoing in my eardrums. Then it sounded like he’d lowered the phone before popping off a few colorful words.
“I’ll be right there.” His voice was surprisingly collected. “Just stay where you are. I’ll come around back and call you when I’m outside.”
“Wait . . . no. Grant?”
But I was too late. The phone had already gone dead.
When his text came saying he was waiting out back, the clock on the wall suggested that fifteen minutes had gone by, but it felt like I’d just exhaled and Grant was here. I could still hear the buzz of the media out front, and I could just make out the faint rumble of his truck out back. When I’d checked into the motel two days ago, I’d been apprehensive about having two ways to get in and out, but in this instance, it felt like more of a blessing.
Never mind the fact that I couldn’t leave.
Cinching the tie of my robe tighter, I moved toward the back door quietly. I unlocked the door and opened it to find Grant’s truck about as close to the building as it could get without damaging it, the passenger door already thrown open.
“What are you doing in a bathrobe?” Grant looked fresh from a shower and was in an old pair of jeans and an inside-out T-shirt. He didn’t have any shoes on. He’d obviously left his hotel in a hurry. “Never mind. Just jump in and let’s get out of here.” When I stayed where I was, silent and still, his brows pulled together. “Ryan, come on.”
My body gave a sudden tremble, which Grant must have interpreted as me being too nervous or scared to move because he started to slide down the bench to come help me.
“I can’t leave,” I whispered.
“It’s fine. We can get you some clothes later, but we need to get out of here before they figure out we’re back here.” Grant kept sliding out of his truck.
“I’m not leaving, Grant.” My voice wasn’t a whisper this time. “I can’t.”
He stopped moving, his brows drawing together. “Why not?”
My lungs filled. “Because I can’t.”
When I looked into the motel room then back at the truck, Grant’s expression went blank. One moment later it cleared, his brows drawing together.
“I am one dumb fucker, aren’t I?” He huffed as his head shook. “You’ve got someone in there with you, don’t you?” He only waited a moment. “Don’t you?”
My silence must have confirmed it for him. Or maybe it was my expression. “Grant—”
“Don’t, Ryan. Just fucking don’t.” He scooted back behind the steering wheel, glaring out the window. “You called, and I showed up two minutes later like the idiot I am.”
My mind was struggling to find the right thing to say to him, the right way to explain everything, but nothing would come.
“Good-bye, Ryan,” was all he said, refusing to look my way before gunning his truck down the back alley, passenger door still wide open.
I couldn’t say it back. I wouldn’t.
Not yet.
“THANKS FOR COMING over.”
Cruz smiled at me as I carried a couple of cups of tea into the living room. “I was planning on being here either way, so no problem.”
“After this morning, all of those people and cameras and questions, and then Grant . . .” I handed him his cup before settling onto the couch beside him with mine. “I guess I just needed someone to talk to.”
“I’m a great someone to talk to.” He winked at me and took a sip.
It was just after nine. Cruz had already been here for a couple of hours, just hanging out, playing card games and telling jokes and drinking cheap motel coffee like this was all he wanted to do on his Tuesday night. Cruz was one of the few people in the world I trusted, which was why I’d invited him here tonight.
The television was tuned to a local news channel, but I’d turned down the volume a while ago when I felt confident they’d moved on past the image of the young woman standing outside of her motel room in a bathrobe the morning after Grant Turner had dropped her off.
Cruz rose from the couch to peek through the curtains. “It’s weird how they were all just here, and then they were all just gone.”
“I’ll take weird if it means them leaving and staying away.” I drew my legs beneath me and leaned my head into my hand to get comfortable. I’d survived the day by staying sequestered in the motel room, which was no small thing.
“Think they lost interest?”
My eyes drifted toward the television. “Or they found some other woman Grant was dropping off at another hotel.”
“He should have at least called or texted to let you know he wasn’t coming tonight. You guys had plans to go out.” Cruz turned from the window and leaned into the wall. He’d shown up to hang out in a vest and wool slacks, like GQ could come knocking any moment.