Page 11

CHAPTER 10

Reed

B y the time the small town outside of Alabama comes into view, exhaustion lies heavy between my eyes. Along with the fact I needed to take a piss. Had to for over an hour, but I didn’t dare mention that to Noah. He’s been able to keep his mouth shut since his little temper tantrum, his second one. Four hours of traveling, and I still wonder why I decided to bring him along with me. I refuse to admit it was because I might have been just a tad bit bored.

I’m used to traveling alone; I did it for most of my life. Being a hired hitman in my past life before the world went to shit, you’re used to working alone. Granted there was Ghost and Viper, the only two that I trusted enough to save my ass. But Viper is gone. And I have no idea where Ghost is. It’s the reason for me—us heading to Georgia. I need to know if he and his girl made it.

I slow down the closer we get into town, keeping my eyes peeled for any movement. Moving around abandoned cars and objects littering the road, I head across town until we reach the last motel. Pulling off to the side, I shut the car off but make no attempt to get out. I feel Noah glance over at me, his eyes burning into the side of my head. Shaking my head, I hope it’s enough that he doesn’t open his big mouth.

Reaching back, I grab my backpack and bat. “Stay here,” I grunt out. Swinging the door open, I quietly close it before pulling my bag over my shoulders. My eyes slowly adjust to the dark, eerie surroundings. The stillness of the night feels unnerving, and a strange pang at the bottom of my spine tickles its way up to my neck. Normally I’m not one to care if I’m walking into danger, but knowing something could hurt Noah. It doesn’t sit well with me.

Shaking my head to rid the thoughts of Noah, I can’t let him cloud my brain right now. I take a slow, deep breath and look over my shoulder—no cars, no movement. One foot in front of the other, I move towards the motel. The building is covered in overgrown grass, trash litters the sidewalk, and out the corner of my eye, I spot two dead bodies with their brains bashed lying there.

Reaching one of the rooms that’s cracked open, I hesitate for a second before finally pushing the door open. The air is stiff as I walk inside, my bat firmly in my hand. I glance around the open space, the curtains drawn; my eyes searching every corner. My senses heightened, listening for anything—footsteps, voices, or anything that’s dead. Danger lingers, suffocating. Tiptoeing further inside, I make my way around the room until I reach the bathroom. Of course the door is fucking closed.

Twisting the handle, I push it open with the tip of my bat. When nothing pops out, I breathe a sigh of relief. Making my way back out of the room, I head towards the car, glad to find Noah still inside the car. His eyes watch me the entire time I walk to the passenger side. Pulling his door open, I step back, allowing him to get out.

“That was quick,” he mutters. “Is it safe?”

I don’t say anything, not needing to. I might be a piece of shit, but I wouldn’t just lead Noah to his death. Maybe. But I ignore that part of myself; I don’t need to get invested in him or care about his feelings.

“Come on.”

As quietly as I can, I shut the passenger door. Not bothering to say anything to him, I head back towards the room. Not caring if he’s following me, I ease the door open. Noah must be hot on my heel because not even two feet into the room, the door closes and locks.

“Uh, there’s one bed.” Noah immediately says. I roll my eyes and peer over at him. I know he’s expecting to share a bed, and while I wouldn’t mind on a normal basis, I can’t anymore.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch; I’ll take the chair.”

I ought to make him sleep on the couch, but I bet the princess boy wouldn’t go for that. Probably throw another fit to get under my skin, not that I’ll ever admit that he does.

He glances over at the chair in the corner, his brows pulling together. “I’m not sure that’s going to be comfortable.”

He’s right, but I don’t comment. I’ve slept in worse places.

“I–I didn’t mention there only being one bed because we couldn’t share. I mean, I know we just met, literally, and well, that might be a little weird. But I… it’s one night. Though I do feel like I should warn you, I’m gay. I know some men get freaked out; some think it means that I’m crushing on them…” Noah rambles on. And for once I let him. For a moment I let myself enjoy the fact I’m making him nervous. But just as quick as it appears, I shove it back down.

“Go do what you need to do in the bathroom,” I order.

Much to my surprise, Noah doesn’t say anything. Hiking his backpack further onto his back, he bows his head, refusing to look at me. I watch him tuck tail and rush to the bathroom. Once the door closes, I drop my bag onto the ground and nearly fall into the chair.

The quiet war inside tells me to go apologize for making him uncomfortable. Because that’s exactly what he was feeling. I might not know Noah, but I’m good at reading people. And he thinks I’m being an ass because he’s gay. That I won’t sleep in the same bed because of his sexuality. And while that might be true for some men, it’s not for me.

I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I’m not uncomfortable in his presence. The need to protect him wages a war inside me I never thought I would have. The feeling inside isn’t something I’m used to, something I don’t want. While I want to protect him, it’s me he needs the protection from.

Yet there’s something about him that catches me off guard. His nonstop talking pulls the urge to communicate with him out. The walls I’ve carefully built around myself—how is he making them frail? How is he making my heart feel heavy? I don’t want to feel this way; I don’t want to care. I’ve learned to exist without needing anyone. Learned to live without allowing anyone to get too close. Yet four hours in the car with Noah, and I’m ready to share that bed with him. I’m ready to answer any questions I know he’s begging to ask.

The way he speaks, the rambling, the brattiness, every time he glances towards me makes my skin crawl. Yet it’s not in a bad way. I find myself wanting to laugh when he throws a fit. His presence ignites something inside me that I’m sure was never there in the first place.

I hate it.

I despise it.

The pull I feel towards him feels like I’m betraying everything I’ve fought against for my whole life. So even if I know somewhere deep down I want to know him and for him to know me. I can’t. I have to resist him. I have to make him hate me. I need to shut down everything before it’s even begun.

He’s a weakness I can’t afford. I couldn’t before, and I surely can’t now. No matter how much I hate myself for it. In the end he’ll thank me.