Page 21 of Fall Into Me

“Is my finger that interesting? What if we get you your toy instead? Then maybe I can figure something out so I can eat? If I can eat. Hmm.” He gently pulled his finger away from Bri, who thankfully stuffed her hand in her mouth in response, and then leaned over until he could reach onto the other side of the bassinet, where he’d set a couple of her toys earlier. “Here we go, baby girl.”

Her eyes shifted from him to the colorful ring-shaped rattle he offered her, and with a gurgle of delight and fingers that were still barely learning how to deliberately grasp things, she reached up and took the toy from him, then promptly shook it before bringing it to her mouth.

He laughed quietly, though he immediately regretted it as pain stabbed through his head. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall back onto the bed. He needed to call Shaina—she’d texted him three times earlier, and all he’d been able to manage was a short text to let her know they were okay and stopped again because of the weather. And he needed to figure out what the hell to do for food for himself.

He should probably figure that out first before calling her.

He slowly pushed himself up to sit, glad when the room stayed relatively level and didn’t sway, and he turned to look over toward the window. The shade was up—Bri seemed to like when he held her at the window and she got to look outside—and through the darkness, he could see faint flutters of snowflakes falling.

His stomach churned.

There was no way he could leave the hotel. Not on foot, carrying Bri. Not in his car. And especially not given that his migraine was still a problem. He couldn’t take any of that risk.

So what the hell could he do?

Maybe the hotel had a vending machine, he thought, though he didn’t remember seeing one on the way up to the room, and a tiny bag of Doritos or a package of Chips Ahoy certainly didn’t constitute a meal.

There were a bunch of local restaurants, many of them in easy walking distance. But again, it would be reckless and a very bad idea for him to try to get there on foot, carrying Bri in her car seat.

They probably delivered. If there was a pizza place or something close by, he could try calling. Or maybe he could order from DoorDash or some other delivery service. He’d never done that, but then, he’d never needed to.

As quickly as the thought came, however, he pushed it away. He couldn’t make anyone drive in this weather, even if he did tip well.

The emptiness in his stomach began to ache again, and he frowned and lowered his head to his hands as the ache intensified. Tears stung at his eyes, and he tried to hold them back—something else he’d learned in the last couple of weeks was that crying definitely didn’t help if he had a migraine. He blinked several times and took a steadying breath. And then he stood.

He’d check if the hotel had a vending machine. That seemed like the safest way to at least get some calories in him. He’d call the front desk and ask them. Then he’d hope that if they did have a vending machine, they took credit cards, because he didn’t have any cash on him at all.

This time, the room did sway, and he stumbled a step sideways before managing to hold himself upright. He stood there for several seconds and then let his eyes drift across the room. The hotel’s phone sat on the top of the dresser, underneath the TV. And right next to it was a white piece of paper and a pen.

The man who helped him earlier—Cass, his name was—he’d left Ash his number.

“My number. Just in case. Call me or text, that’s fine too. And if I can come and bring you something, help you with Bri, anything at all, I will. I’d be happy to.”

Another sharp pain ripped through Ash, though it wasn’t physical pain, and he wasn’t sure exactly what it meant. It felt different from the grief he’d known all too well since his sister had passed away, but it still wasn’t comfortable. Ash glanced back over at his niece, who was happily playing with her toy, and he felt it again.

“I’m okay,” he said aloud. Bri gurgled but didn’t otherwise react. “You’re happy, right, baby girl? And that’s what matters right now.”

He didn’t know what he was trying to convince himself of. Cass hadn’t implied that Ash couldn’t take care of Bri by himself. He’d only offered to help if Ash needed it.

“I shouldn’t need it,” Ash mumbled. He screwed his eyes shut for several long seconds, and then he took a slow step forward and then another.

He’d call the front desk. Not Cass. He’d ask about a vending machine. And he’d go from there.

It didn’t take him too long to stagger over to the dresser, pick up the phone, and punch the number to call the front desk. A woman answered from the other end, and he asked his question. But the response wasn’t what he’d been hoping for.

The vending machine was out of order. Had been for a few weeks now. A repair person was supposed to be out today, but they’d canceled due to the weather.

With a quick thank you, Ash hung up the phone. And those tears he’d valiantly held back a few minutes ago threatened to fall again. He turned around slowly until he was facing the bed, and he squinted as his vision blurred for half a second.

He couldn’t take care of his niece if he didn’t take care of himself. Shaina had told him that. Joanna had told him that. Henry had told him that. And it normally wasn’t this hard.

Normally, he thought he managed his life pretty damn well. He was responsible at work and at school. He got things done, was always on time. He paid his bills, kept his finances in order, at least as well as he could. He cooked—he loved to cook, in fact—and he kept his tiny apartment neat and clean. He had plans—career plans, life plans.

Everything had changed, yeah. But the last thing he expected was to have trouble with this one, basic thing—taking care of himself.

He turned away from Bri, blinking back the tears, and he let his gaze land on the white paper again.

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