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“Elora!” he calls out, but I ignore him. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
My steps falter when the quiet apology reaches my ears.
Licking my lips, I stop, and my feet sink into the sand as I look behind me to where he’s still standing with the bottle in his hand. Studying him in the moonlight, casting shadows across his beautiful face, I want to hold on to my anger, but I can’t. Not when I see the sadness etched into his features. He looks tormented, and I know that amount of pain has absolutely nothing to do with me.
He said he fought his family to take his brother off life support, then got in his car and started driving right after his brother’s funeral. Has he even taken a moment to grieve? To talk to anyone? I doubt it, and even though his burden is not my own, I can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of empathy for him.
With a deep breath, I turn and walk back to him while he watches with a weary look. Then, without thinking, just going on instinct, I wrap my arms around him and rest the side of my head against his chest. His muscles are tight as I hug him, and he stands solid like he’s never had someone hug him before, but he doesn’t pull away, so I don’t let go. After what seems like forever, his muscles begin to slowly relax, then his chest expands with a deep breath, and his arms circle me, his chin coming to rest on the top of my head.
I squeeze my eyes closed as his pain and mine swirl together around us. The sadness is so tangible I half expect the ground to shake or the sky to open up in some kind of outward release, but nothing changes. The people gathered around bonfires continue laughing, and life goes on like it always does.
I don’t let him go and put space between us, even when I know I should. The hug started out for him, but at some point, I started crying and realized that maybe I needed this more than he did. The last person to hug me was Tyler, and that hug was filled with a different kind of pain. After a long time, so long my legs have started to feel tired from holding me up, I loosen my hold on him and use the sleeve of my sweater that is still damp to wipe my face.
“I can be a dick,” he whispers, and I tip my head back to look up at him.
“Yeah,” I agree, watching his lips lift ever so slightly in the corners.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He lifts his hand, cupping my cheek softly and using his thumb to wipe under my eyes.
“You didn’t.” I swallow and take a step away from him, even as he seems reluctant to let me go. Once again, I miss his warmth. “I just needed to cry.”
With a nod, he takes a step toward me as I shiver from the cool air on my damp clothes, the buzz from the alcohol gone along with my tears. “Let’s get you back to your room before you catch a cold.”
“You can’t catch a cold from being cold,” I mumble as he wraps his arm around me, and we begin to walk toward the hotel.
“It’s scientifically proven that you can,” he mumbles back, and I sigh but don’t argue.
When we reach the second-floor balcony leading to both our rooms, I take my key out of my pocket and stop at my door. He stops with me as I open the lock and step into my room. Turning to look up at him, I fight the urge to bite my lip. Things feel awkward now. I feel more twisted up and confused than I did the first time I ever had sex, when I didn’t know how to act or what I was supposed to say. Or if I should say anything.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” It’s a question because he hasn’t said when he’ll be leaving. I could wake up tomorrow and find he’s checked out.
That thought should not bother me as much as it does.
“Are you working?”
“Yeah.”
“Just the bar or both jobs?”
“Both.” He nods and lifts his hand toward my face but then drops it to his side while taking a step back and clearing his throat.
“Night, Elora.”
“Night, Roman.” I close the door and stand there for a long moment before turning the lock. A few seconds later, I hear the door to the room next to mine close, and I look at the wall between his room and mine like I can see through it.
I can’t, but if I could, I would see him staring right back at me.
6
ELORA
45°52′55″N 123°57′34″W
Walking out of the bathroom I just finished straightening up; I practically jump out of my skin and let out a squeak of surprise when I notice a shirtless guy around my age going through an open suitcase on the bed.
“Sorry,” he says, and I hear him over the music playing in my ears.
“It’s okay.” I laugh, taking one of my earbuds out. “I just didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”
