Page 3 of Until the End (The Lost Letters #3)

Carson

I pull into the parking lot of a tiny beach hotel Ginny found on Google.

The ocean stretches out into the distance behind the two-story building.

I’ve been to the Atlantic multiple times over the years—it’s only a three-hour drive from home, and Mom loved going for long weekends to get out of town for a few days.

I’m not sure how an ocean can feel vastly different from its counterpart, but looking out at the Pacific is a totally new experience.

I have no idea how much exploration we’ll be able to do, given the circumstances that brought us here, but it would be cool to check out the area.

Granted, if we have to stay locked up in our room, I’d be okay with that, too.

I’m with my favorite person in the world. I can’t ask for much more than that.

“You want to stay in the car while I get us checked in?” I ask Ginny.

“That’d probably be for the best.” She looks out at the open-air entrances to the hotel rooms. It’s one of the reasons we picked it. We’re trying to minimize people recognizing Ginny as much as possible, especially since she’s with me instead of Weasel.

It’s killing me, not knowing why she ran.

Did the asshat hurt her? Did he cheat on her?

Did she finally just come to her senses and decide to leave the bastard?

I need to know. Our family is dying to know, as well, but they’re being respectful about keeping their distance.

Gia has texted several times since we left three hours ago.

She’s worried about Ginny’s mental state, and I can’t say I blame her.

I told Gia how devastated Ginny was when I walked into the room.

We’re both worried sick about Ginny’s mental health.

We’ve been worried for months, but this is the last straw.

“Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.” I get out of the car and walk under the awning to the center doors with a huge welcome sign hanging above them.

Cool air washes over me as I step inside.

A petite woman stands behind the check-in counter, and she smiles at me when I step up to her desk.

“Welcome to the Gentry Inn. How can I help you?”

“We called about an hour ago to reserve a room. It should be under Carson James.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve got you and your wife all set with a king room.” She starts typing on the computer while my brain gets stuck on her words.

“Oh, uhh… Do you happen to have two queens? My, uh”—I clear my throat—“wife likes to have the extra bed for her stuff.”

The receptionist purses her lips. “I’m really sorry, Mr. James. We only have king rooms available right now.”

Well, this is going to be interesting. “That’ll be fine. Thank you.” I slide my card over to her. She gets us checked in while outlining the hotel’s amenities and fun things to do in the area.

I thank her again before heading back to the car.

Ginny jumps a mile when I open the door to the Jeep.

Tears sit on her lashes as she shuts off her phone and slides it under her thigh.

I want to ask what happened, but I decide to give her some space for a bit.

It’s been a rough day, emotionally, and I don’t want to push her. That’s on tomorrow’s agenda.

“Good news is, we’re in the room right there.” I point to the first-floor room across from our parking spot. “Bad news is, they only had king rooms, so it looks like we’ll have to share a bed.”

Ginny smirks in amusement. “Why’s that bad? It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed.”

Not since we were twelve and it wasn’t weird to sleep in the same bed as your opposite-sex best friend. I also wasn’t hopelessly in love with Ginny back then. Not that I’ll ever tell her that. “No, but you’re a bed hog and a snorer. I have no fucking hope of getting sleep now.” I wink at her.

Ginny’s grin widens across her face. It makes my chest ache when she smiles at me like that. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it. I honestly wasn’t sure if I ever would again. Being the one to bring that smile back fills me with an immeasurable amount of pride.

“I might be a bed hog, but you’re the one who snores.”

I bark out a laugh. “I think your pants are on fire.”

“I’m not wearing any pants.”

I shake my head at her cheekiness while I grab my suitcase from the trunk. Luckily, I’d planned to stay at a hotel near the venue after the wedding. Otherwise, we’d have needed to go on an emergency supply run.

We’ll still need to grab some stuff for Ginny, but she can wear my clothes for the time being. It might help disguise her a bit while we’re in town.

We hurry into the room before Ginny can be spotted. Her body deflates when I slide the deadbolt into the lock. She looks on the verge of collapsing. She’s probably exhausted after the mountain of stress she’s been under .

“How about you get changed into some of my clothes, and I’ll run out for supplies? We can chill out in the hotel tonight and reassess everything in the morning.”

Ginny plonks herself onto the bed. “That sounds perfect.”

I set my suitcase on the stand by the entertainment center and grab out some clothes.

The slightly vintage room has blue-and-white beach vibes.

The art on the walls is beach-themed, and the crisp white bed linens look inviting.

It’s not the cheapest-looking place I’ve ever seen, but it’s also not the Ritz.

We figured no one would look for us at a cheap hotel on the coast when they’d expect Ginny to stay at a five-star place in the city.

Ginny takes the clothes from my outstretched arms and turns her back to me. “Can you help me with my zipper?”

My spit gets stuck in my throat. Ginny’s soft skin beckons me closer, and I have to force my thoughts away from the intimacy of this moment. I’m just her friend, helping her out of a goddamn wedding dress. Nothing weird about that. Not at all.

I grip the top of the dress, ignoring how much I want to press a kiss to her bare neck, and slide the zipper down her back. The metal separating is as loud as gunshots in the silent room.

Fuck, she’s not wearing a single thing under there, is she?

Turn away, you pervert. Stop ogling your best friend.

I twist around to stop looking at her half-undressed.

She says a quiet thank you , to which I can only grunt in response.

Every single ounce of my control is going toward keeping my thoughts on mundane things.

I refuse to let my brain run away with images of Ginny and me on a honeymoon where I get to find out if she’s truly naked under her dress.

The bathroom door snicks closed, and I let loose a long exhale. What a conundrum I’ve gotten myself into. After running my fingers through my hair and taking a minute to reorient myself, I quickly change out of my suit and into a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt .

I already feel more in control of myself.

Okay, new plan.

Keep all thoughts of sex, love, and relationships out of my head. Focus on what Ginny needs most—her best friend. Someone to support her and get her through this crisis. She doesn’t need me drooling over her or making this any more complicated.

The bathroom door opens, and Ginny comes out, looking stupidly gorgeous in my clothes.

Jesus, I’ve already failed at my new plan. Fuck.

Support. You are supporting your best friend. Get it together.

“What do you need?” I ask, getting my brain back on track.

“To not think for a while. And makeup remover.” Ginny cringes. “And underwear.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Damn it.

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.