Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

"You look like your mind is far away, Tamara. What are you thinking of?" Paul's voice interrupts my reminiscence.

He sits next to me on the hotel couch. A partial wall hides where Diana sleeps from view. Light from the bathroom casts just enough for us to see each other while leaving the two queen-sized beds in darkness. This place is nothing like the hotels I'm used to, but that's only because I usually travel with my family. But since Paul and I went halfsies on the room, it is one I can currently afford.

Everyone thinks I'm rich, but I'm not. My parents were rich. They gave me a living allowance as long as I had a job. Now, everything is tied up with the lawyers. My parents never expected to die, so it's been a mess. More than a few of those lawyers have pulled me aside to comment that I was the last "actual" Devine by blood, like that somehow made a difference, like that meant I could cut Conrad out if I wanted. I hope they didn't say as much to him as I would never consider it.

Honestly, I have been too eager to let Conrad deal with the legal mess while I hid myself away in bed.

I stare, mesmerized by the plastic-wrapped snack cake in my hands, and finally mumble, "Fairies and puppies."

"Okay," he says with a small, confused laugh. His cell phone dings, and he reaches over to silence it without looking at who texted him.

It's late, but I don't feel like lying down. Memories keep haunting me. I worry they'll spill over into my dreams. At least awake, I can control where they go.

It seems weird that I'm sharing a room with them, but I don't want to be alone. I'm afraid of what I'll do if I am. Everything about this situation is unusual.

Paul's hair is wet from showering. Mine has started drying, but I feel the damp weight against my back. I wear my exercise clothes from my backpack. Shorts and a tank are more comfortable than a dress. Paul had changed into one of the shirts he bought at the gas station. A cartoon turtle appears to dance on his chest while holding a gas can next to a spilled drink.

Paul sits close, closer than he needs to since there is plenty of room on the couch. Our bodies don't touch, but I feel the heat coming from him. I wonder if it's on purpose or if he's just tired. I want to tell him I'm scared. No, terrified. I want to warn him that there is danger outside. I want to explain vampires and soul eaters and magic. I want to say I'm sorry for Diana being brought into my world. But, most of all, I want him to believe me when I tell him the truth.

I can't force any of the words to come. If I say it, he'll leave me, and I'll be alone.

"How are you?" I've been thinking about myself all day. He obviously has a lot going on.

"I'm glad today is over." He leans forward and puts his head in his hands briefly before leaning back on the couch. "And I'm thankful to be out of the city. Leaving was a good idea."

We keep our voices low so as not to wake Diana.

I set the snack cake down, uneaten. I hear my mother's voice in my head telling me I've had enough sweets. I draw my knee onto the couch to sit sideways and study him. "Can I ask what happened to your wife?"

He hesitates, and I see him considering his answer.

"Diana doesn't know this," he whispers, turning to face me as he mimics my position.

I lean closer and nod that I understand.

"Nancy and I were getting a divorce. We've been separated for over a year. I've been saving money to move out and meet her—we'll call it an alimony demand." He takes a deep breath. "I shouldn't talk like… There's no point in speaking ill of her now. She's Diana's mom. I don't need to be an asshole about it."

I can see there is more to the story. I gently touch his knee in support.

Despite his words, he keeps talking. "Even before we separated, she was faithfully challenged."

"She cheated?" I clarify.

"Yes," he says. "I didn't see it for years. It started with the waiter at our wedding dinner, then her boss at work, then some clients at work, and God knows who else. I found out when she tried to seduce my best friend. Hector told me about it."

"And you believe him?"

"It was harder for him to tell me than it would have been not to. He had no reason to lie. Besides, Nancy eventually confessed to all of it."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. It's not the same, but my last boyfriend, Jasper, cheated on me. He was only with me because of my family." I give a dismissive shrug. "All that to say, I understand a little of what you might be going through."

"Yeah, it sucks." His hand slides over mine on his knee.

"So what happened to her?"

"She was on a date. He drove off the road. They crashed into a construction dumpster. Her neck was broken, and she died instantly. He passed at the hospital hours later." He presses his lips together, and I can tell he's suppressing some emotion. I'm not sure if it's grief or humor. "She was…"

Paul makes a weak noise and gestures toward his lap.

My eyes widen as I stare at him. "She was giving him…?"

He nods. "I'm such an asshole. The entire funeral, all I could think was she died like she lived with some other guy's thing in her mouth. Then I felt guilty for even thinking it."

I cover my mouth and force myself not to laugh at the dark humor.

"Well, I mean…" I give a small shrug. "Was that in the news? I don't remember hearing about it."

"They hinted at it but left her name out, thank goodness." He sighs. "Diana doesn't need that memory of her mother, and I don't need some kid at her school being the one to tell her about it. Only a few people know the full details. Most of them are emergency responders."

"I feel honored that you trust me," I say.

"I don't know why I do. I just feel like I can."

His admission makes me feel guilty. I think of all I'm hiding from him. I take my hand out from under his and pretend to stretch.

"I had thought I'd gotten lucky that a bigger story was taking over the news cycle." He looks at his hand still resting on his knee where I'd left it. "I'm sorry that news story ended up being the fire that took your family."

"My mother liked living as the center of attention. She'd be upset if the news stations weren't obsessed with her death," I admit.

His hand reaches for mine, drawing me back to him. Our eyes meet. There is vulnerability in his gaze. A feeling of calm comes over me, giving me a reprieve from the usual frantic dialog cycling in my head.

"I'm glad I met you," he whispers. "And not just because Diana has taken a liking to you. Today was unbearable until you came along."

I feel drawn to him. I see his pain, and it reflects my own. I don't believe in love at first sight without a potion or a spell, but I do believe in need. Need is an angry, dark monster that reaches up from the void and tries to suck in everything around it. It's desperation and sadness and loneliness. It's my oldest friend.

"I hate today," I whisper back. "Funerals. Fires. I can't deal with it all, Paul. I need it to be over."

"It's after midnight." His voice is soft like he's whispering a secret. "It is over. We got through yesterday."

I feel safe when I'm looking at him. He seems so steady and sure.

"I'm sorry Diana was in the fire. I don't know why things keep going up in flames around me. I feel like I'm bad luck. Maybe you should just leave me here and go on to Kansas without me." It's not what I want, but it's the right thing.

"I can see why you might feel that way, but it's not as unheard of as you think. I read once that fires are the most common emergency in New York City. The fire department responds to over three hundred thousand emergencies a year. In the Bronx, there is an average of about twelve hundred structural fires a year. Most fires are caused by cooking and heating accidents. You said you smelled gas in the kitchen."

I furrow my brow. "You read once? That's a lot of information about fires. Do you have one of those photographic memories or something?"

He gives me a half-smile. "I looked it up on my phone when you were sleeping. And before you worry, we were stuck in traffic. I didn't search my phone and drive at the same time."

I lean closer, mesmerized by his mouth. Knowing he was separated from his wife for a year changes things. "Were you worried I was dangerous?"

There I go. Flirting again.

"Oh, I know you're dangerous." His tone becomes husky. He's flirting back. "But I don't get a fire starter vibe off you."

I've had a really crappy couple of weeks, and I'm helpless to resist the way his gaze dips to my mouth and back up again. The invitation is unmistakable.

"What vibe do you get?" Yes, I'm fishing for compliments.

"I think you're sad and a little lost, but who wouldn't be after what you've been through?"

It's honest, but it's not exactly what every girl hopes to hear from a boy she likes.

The disappointment must show on my face because he adds, "You're also beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and?—"

I close my eyes and broach the distance between us. I press my mouth to his. I don't think of consequences. In fact, I don't think of anything beyond his touch. The contact sends a tingling sensation over my body, and I moan softly. After a moment, I realize his mouth is not moving against mine.

Mortified, I pull back to see him staring at me.

I'm not sure what to do or say. Do I apologize? Do I run and hide in the bathroom?

I can't make words come out.

"I'm sorry." He lifts his hands as if to push me away without touching me. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you."

"Wait." I tilt my head in confusion. "What?"

I kissed him.

"You're vulnerable, and I…"

"Wait, what?" I shake my head. "I think I'm taking advantage of you. I'm the one who convinced you to give me a ride. You've been nothing but a gentleman by helping out my damsel in distress sorry ass."

Now, he looks confused. "I told you my sad story, and you feel sorry for me now. You're also grateful for the ride. I'm seducing you and taking advantage of your fragile emotional state. I promise I'm not that guy. I like you. I don't want to ruin any potential by jumping you the first chance I get."

This has to be the strangest conversation I've ever had with a man. I maneuver on the couch and lean my head back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. I've been ignoring my exhaustion, but now I feel it filling every inch of me.

"Are we arguing?" I ask because I'm completely unsure at this point.

"I don't think so." I feel him move next to me. When I glance over, he's reclining to mimic my position. I can't see his expression clearly in the shadows. "Possibly?"

"Can we not? I think I'm too tired to have this conversation." I'd rather be kissing him, but we've headed into bizarre, almost awkward territory. I close my eyes.

"I know I'm too tired to have this conversation," he mumbles.

"What else did you find out while I was sleeping?" I like the sound of his voice and want to hear more.

"I called Hector to let him know we decided to go out of town. He's going to cover a few construction jobs for me. I answered job email queries." He lets loose a long yawn. "As much as I want to pretend I don't have any responsibilities, bills don't pay themselves."

I listen to the rhythmic sound of his breathing in the quiet hotel room. I have no idea how long we sit, but we must have fallen asleep because my neck is hurting. When I look down, Diana is curled on the couch next to us, using my leg as a pillow. I try to untangle myself from the situation but don't want to wake her.

I nudge Paul to wake him up. He inhales sharply and looks down at his daughter. Without saying anything, he stands, swoops her off the couch, and walks her to one of the beds.

I stretch as I cross to the hotel window to peek at the parking lot. It's still dark outside, but the street lights illuminate the cars below. I can't shake the feeling that there is someone out there, in the night, hunting and waiting. There are a million reasons to fear the dark, and my tired brain is all too eager to tell me about them.

Not seeing an immediate threat, I shuffle to the unclaimed bed. Paul is sleeping next to his daughter with his back turned to us. Diana is snuggled under the covers across from me.

I pull the covers up around my head and close my eyes. What is it about blankets that make us feel safe against the horrors of the world? We burrow like little soft bunnies. But predators aren't scared of bunnies, and they do not respect the sanctity of the blanket.

Fuck, I want my thoughts to stop churning. I want to sleep for an eternity and not think of anything ever again.