Page 104 of Fiery Little Thing
That lie doesn’t make any fucking sense.
Her weathered eyes drop down to the dirt and dried blood coating my jeans and my raised foot, softening when they land on my bruised knuckles. The look she gives me isn’t pitiful or frightened or filled with the disgust I’m so used to. The door creaksas she backs away to let me inside the small reception area, and I almost burst into tears. She’s a complete stranger, letting me inside in the middle of the night, whispering unspoken words to me that sayI understand.
“Have you had anything to eat, love?” Her voice is so… gentle, in the way only a mother knows how to be. Or at least it’s how I imagine it would be.
I chew on the inside of my cheeks to stop the teardrops gathering along my eyelashes from falling. Shaking my head, my attempts fail miserably as I wipe my cheeks using the back of my sleeve.
“Okay.” She says the single word with more compassion than I’ve ever encountered, then grabs a key off the hook without asking me for any details. Cautiously, she adds, “Your boyfriend isn’t here.”
My heart sinks.
No, Blaze. Don’t think about it. He’ll come tomorrow. He said that could happen. He didn’t leave you.
The woman tips her head up. “We have a room available for as long as you need—we can accept cash if need be. It has a working heater, shower, and fresh drinking water from the tap. There’s no mini fridge or vending machine, but just give me a call and we can see what we might be able to do about meals.”
“Thank you,” I whisper between shuddering breaths.
She nods once and takes the cash I hand her without counting it. I wait in silence when she slips behind the counter and through the door. A few minutes pass before she returns with a packet of porridge and a couple instant soup sachets. Neither of us speaks again as she leads me to one of the bedrooms, walking slowly to account for my limp. The innkeeper checks that all the amenities are working, and subtly wipes dust off the counters with the palm of her bare hand. She hesitates momentarily by the door, then drops her eyes to mybruised hand.
“I will leave some painkillers and a bandage in front of your door in the morning.”
My lips part in disbelief. “Thank you,” I say again, meaning it from the bottom of my black soul. “I appreciate your help.”
“Sleep well.”
The door clicks behind her, but I don’t eat the food she left behind or take a bath in the shower she made sure worked. I’ve slept in filth and gone to bed hungry more times than I can count; I want the temporary feeling of death that comes from sleep. So once my head hits the pillow, I welcome the darkness with open arms.
My back slips down the bathroom door as I slump onto the floor. I drop my head against the wood and stare at the entrance directly across from me.
Is this what my freedom means? Loneliness? Placing trust in people I shouldn’t have?
My grandfather would laugh at me if he knew that for the past four days I’ve been sitting around at a rundown motel in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Kohen to show up.
Kohen, the man my grandfather told me to stay away from.
And where the fuck is he? Out of everything I’ve endured this year, placing my trust in Kohen may prove to be my biggest mistake. I thought I might have… I bite the inside of my cheek. It doesn’t matter what I thought.
I’ve become too codependent on him. Like a useless child, I was dumbstruck when I stood before the shower. For the past month, Kohen has been the one who wiped my skin clean and latheredshampoo into my hair. It was part of our nightly ritual. It isn’t like I can’t do it myself. I just… Knowing he’s right beside me makes it easier to forget about the tub.
Now he isn’t here.
He’s three days late.
When he doesn’t come on the fourth day, it’s as if he’s shoved a knife in my gut. On the fifth, the knife twists. By the sixth, it starts to feel like I’m waiting for my mother again. I’m five years old, nestled in blankets at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for my mother to return on a Friday night because she promised she’d be home to make me dinner. I slept there that night. Then, the night after that. She never came.
A week later, she came back and made the same promise. But this time, she said she’d do better. Like a dutiful young daughter wanting to make her mom proud, I sat on the bottom step and waited. She never came.
I was a child, so the fool was her. But here I am, sitting on the floor across from the motel door, waiting for Kohen.
Other than my parents, Kohen is the only person I’ve trusted to keep their promise. Maybe I’m just a fucking idiot for hoping—trusting—in anyone.
I pull myself onto my feet and limp over to the bed, crashing onto it face-up and staring at the water-stained ceiling. As I let myself ruminate over my situation, I conclude that I’ll wait for Kohen for only seven. After the seven days are up, our love story is as good as shit, and I’ll be on my own. Just thinking about it has the metaphorical dagger in my heart twisting, leaving the skin permanently disfigured.
If Kohen isn’t here by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll take up Sue—the innkeeper’s—offer for a ride into one of the towns to get a one-wayticket out of here. I’ll leave a note for him with Sue, then carry out the rest of my plan without him if he doesn’t reach out to me, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants by himself. Because we’ll be over. Done for.
Tears bead along my lashes just thinking about it. For fuck’s sake. I thought I was above abandonment issues. Figures the one dude who ever treated me like a human decided to throw me aside just like everyone else does.One more day,I remind myself.
I grit my teeth and turn and shove my head into the pillow to dispel the negative thoughts. My stomach growls like a natural alarm clock that goes off whenever dinnertime hits. But I still lie there, unmoving. Sue has been feeding me for the past six days, and I can’t keep being her charity case because I fight back tears every time she doesn’t treat me like shit.
