Page 15 of The Risks of Reuniting (Love Connections #1)

Chloe

There is something in my bed, and I discover this by flopping back onto my mattress after a very long day of dental emergencies and squishing whatever it is.

The thing squeals, and wiggles, and I do the same, screaming out a high-pitched cry and jumping to stand.

Rachelle startles from across our room and joins my screaming as my covers shift around and a slightly mangled rat shoots out the side, jumps to the floor, and disappears under her bed.

We look at each other as the screams die down, both of us with our hands pressed to our chests, our hearts pounding and eyes huge.

We're in our pajamas, face cream still thick before it soaks in.

Rachelle's hair is tied on the top of her head, and honestly we probably look scarier than the rat at the moment.

"That did not just happen," I cry. "No, no, no, no."

"We have to burn the place to the ground," she huffs with a shaky voice, the silk of her pajamas still trembling. "There's no other answer."

A pounding on our door alerts us to guests a second before the door crashes open.

Holt stands there, eyes vaulting back and forth, taking in the scene.

He's in a tank and sleep pants, his feet bare, his hair sticking up, and my breath goes out in a second woosh at the sight of him so deliciously rumpled. Why can't he ever look hideous?

"What's going on?" he asks, sounding as breathless as we do. "We heard you screaming." He looks right at me. "Chlo? You okay?"

"Chicas?" Cesar shoves in behind him while my heart contracts at Holt using my nickname.

Cesar is also in pajamas, but he was smart enough to put on shoes before racing over here. We must have screamed loud if they heard us from the other side of the compound.

Rachelle shakes her head, like that will take the image of the scroungy rat away. "There was a rat in Chloe's bed, and she laid on it."

Holt looks at me for confirmation.

I nod, grasping at my gold chains. "I felt it squish under me, and then it squealed . . . it squealed!" I cry. "Then it ran away. I can't believe it isn't dead."

He looks at my bed. "Did it bite you?"

I shake my head and lick my lips, accidentally getting some of the night cream on the tip of my tongue. It's gross. "No, but I'm trying to talk myself into looking to see if there's blood on my sheets."

He nods once and fully enters the room, filling the space, moving toward my bed to do what I'm dreading. I step away to keep from seeing anything I can't unsee as he tugs my covers back and inspects my sheets.

"It's clean." He sounds relieved. The feeling is mutual.

"Is there rat poop in there?" Rachelle asks on a whisper. "Is she going to get e-coli?"

A little amusement tickles at me and I let go of my chains. "Rats don't give you e-coli," I say.

"It's hantavirus," Holt confirms, running his hands over my sheets. "Something equally terrible."

Cesar, clearly confused by the hysterics, volleys some words in Spanish at Holt, who replies and brings him up to speed .

"You wash your bed," Cesar says to me, pulling a face that mirrors the disgust on my own.

"He's right," Holt says. "Who knows how long that rat has burrowed in there. There might be urine."

Rachelle shudders, and I have to work not to do the same. "That's nasty," she says. "What if it, like, chills there during the day when we're gone and you've been sleeping in it?"

I scrub at my arms and pull a face. What if?

"Have you seen rat feces around?" Holt asks me, and the concern on his face does funny things to my heart. Funny, wall-breaking things.

"No," Rachelle answers. "We sweep a couple of times a week and there haven't been droppings."

"That's good," he sighs. "Do you have any extra bedding, Chloe?" I'm slow to process his words, still stuck on the idea that the rat has been hanging in my bed on occasion. "Chlo?" he calls, using my nickname again.

I start and shake my head. "I didn't bring any extras, but there might be some at the laundry. I'll check."

"I'll help," he says, and for once I don't push back too hard. It's nice to have help sometimes, even if it's him. "Let's gather this bedding first."

Holt and I make short work of stripping my bed while Cesar gets down on his hands and knees to see if he can find the hole the rat disappeared through. Rachelle sweeps the floor, and when Cesar strikes gold she helps him stuff the hole with one of our towels.

"Grab an extra towel from the laundry," she calls to me as I'm slipping on shoes to follow Holt out the door.

It's dark out, and with limited electricity the humanitarian center grounds are murky and shadowed.

I feel awkward walking next to Holt as we make our way to the laundry facility, which is mostly a small closet off the side of the cafeteria.

It's the first time we've been completely alone in a long time.

"What have you been up to this week?" Holt asks as we move through the dirt-packed yard.

I chuckle too loudly for the small space, and it echoes my awkwardness back at me. "Going for small talk, eh?"

His chuckle sounds forced. "Seems prudent, since anything else might be a minefield."

I sigh, amused. "I've been doing dental work this week. You?"

"Gardening."

"You're a terrible gardener," I laugh, and this time it's genuine. "Big mistake on Carlos' part."

He nudges my side with his elbow. "Hey, I can dig holes in dirt."

"Do they realize that the dirt will have to be blessed with holy water before it will actually grow anything?"

He laughs. "Rude."

"I state facts, that's what I do."

His voice is warm when he responds. "I know."

I'm relieved when we see the laundry building.

It's small and houses one washer and one dryer, plus a linen closet.

I don't have high hopes that the linen closet stores extras, but I'm still putting good vibes out into the universe.

Holt pushes open the door and stands to the side to let me enter first. It's dark, and I tug at the cord hanging from the ceiling attached to a single bulb.

It's like a four-watt bulb because it barely chases the shadows away, but it's something.

I drop the blanket I'm carrying on the dryer and open the linen closet.

"Color me shocked, there are sheets and towels in here." I smile, tugging them out. "The universe loves me. It's about time she threw me a bone. "

Holt pops open the washer and dumps the soiled sheets inside, adding detergent and glancing my way. "Is there a clean blanket?"

I shake my head. "No dice."

"You can use mine. I'll go grab it."

"Absolutely not. It gets cold at night. I'll figure out something else."

He pushes start on the washer and glances at me. "Like what?" he asks.

"Like maybe I sleep under towels, or wear a jacket to bed. I'm an adult, I can figure this out," I respond.

"You'll freeze. You get cold easily." He raises a confident eyebrow.

I feel strange about that confidence, like he's not allowed to have it in regards to me, and I bristle. "You don't know that."

He leans in. "I know every single thing about you."

My mind races over words that come unbidden, and remain unspoken.

If he knew every single thing about me, then why did he assume he could apply to pharmacy school in North Carolina and that I'd drop all my well-plotted plans to go with him?

If he knew me so well, how did he not understand that I'd come to depend on him and trust him completely, and that I'd be devastated by him tossing it all away to chase his own dream?

If he was so familiar with me and my thoughts, how could he have blindsided me so completely?

My spine stiffens as my jaw drops. Walls that had cracked a little are replaced, and reinforced.

"Wrong. You used to know a version of me, but you obviously didn't know anything about what I actually wanted or needed.

" The words are ripped from me as I shove past him to leave the laundry, forgetting the towel for Rachelle and the fresh sheets for me, stomping my way across the dirt toward our room.

Holt is on my heels. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I stop and spin to face him. "Are you serious? "

He folds his arms and nods. "Completely. What did you want and need that I didn't understand?"

He can't actually . . . I sigh and shake my head sadly. "Okay, I guess this was bound to happen." I take a breath and look directly into his eyes. "You, Holt. I wanted and needed you. And you walked away."

His expression is one of shocked hurt. "You're kidding, right? That's not how things happened."

I throw up my hands. "Do you have something new to add?

Something I missed last summer? Because I heard it all then.

Remember how we argued about it for weeks, and it didn't solve a thing.

" My hands drop and my shoulders sag. I'm sad, and tired, and still freaked out about that rat.

"There's no point in this. We aren't a couple anymore and should drop it. "

I walk away again and he hustles to intercept me, coming to stand facing me, standing in my way but not touching me.

"We've been apart for nearly a year now, and you have no regrets about any of it? You want to go on as we have been?" he asks, my own pain reflected in his tone.

My throat closes up at the achiness of it all.

Of course I have regrets, but I sit on them to keep them locked inside.

His face is still as familiar as my own, but it's also the source of so much hurt and sorrow.

I still feel incredibly betrayed. And why are we having this argument in a courtyard in Peru while my face is covered in white cream? Why?

I point at him with slitted eyes, feeling tears sting and knowing I can't let him see them. "Let me go, please. I can't do this."

I shove past him and nearly jog to my room as the tears begin their slow roll down my heated face. Thankfully, he doesn't follow me .

Cesar is gone when I burst into our room. Rachelle is wiping down our dresser top and her face folds into concern when she sees my expression.

"What happened?" she asks.

I swallow hard, willing myself not to cry, but my voice is thick when I reply. "Holt, he, uh . . . said some stuff."

She squeezes my shoulder gently. "Want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "It's an old fight from a long time ago. But I accidentally left the clean sheets and towel in the laundry room."

She directs me to her bed and gently pushes me to sit. "I'll go grab the things. You just take some deep breaths."

I nod and scoot back on her bed until my back is propped against the wall. Stupid Holt and his stupid words. How do I face him after this?

Rachelle is back within a few minutes, holding a pile of sheets, a towel, and a blanket.

I don't ask where the blanket came from, because I have no doubt Holt was involved somehow.

Even though I spewed venom at him, he still made sure I'd be comfortable.

It ticks me off. How dare he meet my rudeness with kindness?

"So, this might be terrible timing, but Cesar was telling me about a bus tour through Lima that takes you around the city and then does a walking tour of the Plaza Mayor and the San Agustín catacombs.

He said he and Holt were thinking they'd get a group together this weekend.

" She pauses to gauge my reaction, but I'm still staring at the floor.

"Um, do you want me to tell him to save it for another time? "

I stand and shake my head, pasting on a smile as though I've already gotten over the fight. I take the sheets from her and start making my bed.

"No, we can do that," I say with false cheer. "But Dr. J did warn us about making weekend plans, and last Saturday was madness. Are you sure we can pull it off? "

She gets a glimmer in her eye and smiles in a secretive way that almost dissolves the heaviness in my chest. "You leave him to me. You're only in Peru once, right?"

I take a deep breath and force my logical thoughts into place. She's right about that, and I can't let old wounds keep me from missing out. I have no desire to tour Lima with Holt, but Cesar is the cutest and Rachelle is a beam of sunshine, and I can distract myself with them.

"Do you know how much it costs?" I ask.

"I don't even care what it costs. There's this thing called opportunity cost, where sometimes an opportunity only comes up once, and you'd better take it no matter the cost. We'll be there," she responds in a cheery tone.

"Yeah. When in Peru . . .," I reply.

"Viva, Peru," Rachelle throws a fist in the air, and I giggle.

Thank goodness for Rachelle.