Salvation (Without You Book 2), page 21
“And how many nights?” she asks, jotting down my stay on her check-in form.
“Just one.”
She finishes writing down my information, saving my name for last.
Dominic Farro.
My father’s first name with my mother’s last.
“Okay, Mr. Farro. A breakfast truck comes every morning at nine, and check-out will be at noon. Have a great stay.”
Taking the entrance card from between her fingers with a mumbled thank you, I stomp out to the car, my feet like lead in my boots.
There are no stairs at this motel, just one long strip of rooms. Stopping in front of room seventeen, Amira and I drag ourselves out of the vehicle, suitcase handle in each of our hands as we shuffle inside.
“Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t wake me,” Amira rumbles, dropping face-first down onto the pillows, falling asleep almost instantly.
I’m right behind her. Throwing the pillows off the bed, I lie on my back with my arms crossed over my chest and nod off. No time for thinking, no time for dreaming.
I just sleep.
†††
Friday
March 26, 2021
It’s pitch-black by the time I open my eyes again, nothing illuminating the room except the glowing white light from the clock, the numbers reading one fifty-five in the morning.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I listen to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, steam drifting out from under the doorway as Amira boils.
I’m too comfortable to leave the warmth of the bed. Amira having turned on the heater, making it a toasty eighty degrees.
Turning to lie on my stomach, I rest my head on top of my hands and close my eyes, listening to the sound of Amira’s soft voice singing My Girl by The Temptations.
Her voice is haunting… deadly.
I wonder if she realizes she’s singing the same song her father would sing to her whenever he came home.
Tommy, Liam, and I would be in the living room, talking, laughing, and eating whatever food Amira and Adrianna laid out for us when Gabriel would come through the door, eyes going to Amira before anyone else. The tune would slip from his lips like habit; “I’ve got sunshine, on a cloudy day” hitting our ears as he gave Amira tender kisses on the head.
It's astounding how loving Gabriel could seem at times. How easily he fooled her with loving songs and pleasant memories.
I want her to stop singing, to never sing that song again. But she sounds so lovely, and the idea of her stopping sends a shooting pain down into my gut.
I listen to the whole song. An entire three minutes with my heart bleeding, stomach cramping. Pain sticks in her throat as she finishes, a croaking sound coming before weeping cries.
My body screams at me to rush up, kick the door down, and hold her. But I can't move. Agony holding me down as I listen to her whimpers grow louder.
I cry with her. Tears of my own sliding down my cheek, plopping onto the crisp, white sheet until it’s a wet, grey puddle.
He ruined our lives.
Gabriel is still ruining our lives.
That’s why I’m doing this.
That’s why we’re doing this. So he can’t continue to hurt us.
The lock clicks open, and I hastily wipe the tears from my face, covering the droplets on the bed before shooting my towel-clad angel a heavy smile.
“You smell good, like strawberries.”
Dropping her wet clothes on the corner of the bed, she pulls a bottle from underneath her armpit and tosses it to me. “Go shower, and you can smell like strawberries too.”
Her voice is husky from all the tears shed, but the anguish is still fresh on her face. I don’t want to dig into the wound by making her talk about it now, and as much effort as it takes to bite my tongue, I do it.
For her sake, I do it.
“I’ll be right out,” I promise, taking the bottle and a spare change of clothes from my bag. Dipping low, I give her a swift kiss on the lips and hobble into the compact bathroom.
Squinting my eyes, I shield my gaze from the intense glow of the overhead halogen lightbulbs and flip on the shower. Freezing water splashing against my calf as the lower faucet spurts.
I give it a moment to warm up, letting my eyes adjust to the lighting as I stare at my reflection.
I try to keep my focus on my eyes since that’s the only area I don’t see my brother’s face. It’s a safe space as I find myself getting lost in the swirls of colors forming around my pupil.
They’re light and trustworthy. Everything my brother turned out not to be.
Stripping myself of my briefs, I jump under the blistering spray and scrub the fatigue, upcoming drive, and memories off my body. But where the drowsiness and aches can be washed away by piercing warmth, the memories stay. They burrow in the grooves of your bones and suck the nutrients from your blood like a fucking leech.
Memories at some point stop being thoughts and become one with your DNA, and as much as I’d like, I can’t just rinse that away.
Squirting a heaping pile of artificial strawberry-scented shampoo into my hand, I start scrubbing my scalp, drifting lower and lower until my entire body smells of Amira, taking over my senses until all those memories fade away.
It works, but only for a moment.
Sometime today, Amira and I will be home and all we’ve run away from will be at our feet. I don’t know what that’s going to do to us.
The reminder that it could fucking ruin everything has me halting in my hair washing. Soap falls into my eyes, burning my vision away, but I don’t even care because all I can think about is losing everything I’ve worked for.
Everything we’ve fought for.
Finishing up my washing, I shut off the shower and grab a fresh towel from the rack just outside the shower curtain.
Steam fills every inch of the room, dousing the mirror and countertop in a moist, dense fog.
I don’t bother drying my body before sliding on my clothes, completely disregarding my boxer briefs before sliding on my jeans. The denim snags on the wetness of my thighs, giving me hell as I tug them to my waist.
My dripping hair sends currents of water down my back, soaking my black long-sleeve within seconds as I take my toothbrush from the sink and cleanse the morning funk away.
I take my time scrubbing the film away from my mouth, not quite ready to venture outside this room, knowing the second I get in that car, there is no turning back.
We’re going to do this, I keep telling myself.
We have to do this.
It’s the only way.
I’m just not ready.
A knock comes from behind me, followed by the creaking of the old wooden door as Amira pokes her head inside.
She leans against the doorway for a bit, arms crossed over her Guns N’ Roses covered chest as she gazes at me through the dewy mirror.
She catches me staring and chuckles, a light, airy sound. “Hope you don’t mind. This looked more comfortable than one of my many black sweaters.”
Of course, I don’t mind, especially since it looks sexier on her than it ever did me. The hem sits nicely on top of her rounded ass, which is covered in the tightest pair of leggings I’ve ever seen her in. I get a delicious eyeful of cleavage from the tear right above the swell of her breasts. Her hair, cropped short at her shoulders, falls in soft, delicate waves, displaying the marks of hunger I left scattered around her neck.
“I didn’t want to hide these either,” she says it with shame, but I can see the glint in her eyes. A sparkle that confirms she loves looking at those bites just as much as I loved giving them.
Spitting out the minty foam in my mouth, I give the sink a quick rinse before spinning around, hopping onto the sink counter to admire my girl.
Amira’s eyes drift across my face tenderly, holding my gaze, even as hers begin to fill with tears.
“Why are you crying?” I ask, forcing myself to stay on the sink when all I want to do is go to her.
“I had a dream last night. It was you and me. You were eighteen, and I was fifteen, and it didn’t matter because there was no one around to tell us anything. You bought a car, a cheap piece of shit that cost no more than two thousand, and we packed it with nothing but a few pieces of clothes and all the money we could find.”
“And what did we do?” I ask, hearing my voice break apart as my own tears begin to collect in my eyes.
“We left, and I don’t know where we were going or where we ended up. But we were happy.”
“That sounds perfect… so why are you crying?”
Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she comes farther into the room, hands grasping onto my knees as she peers at me through black-coated lashes. “Because we should have had that. But instead, we got our lives torn apart. We have scars we can’t see, but fuck, they burn, don’t they? They haunt our dreams, even when our eyes are open and fill our heads with monstrous whispers. Our lives are not our own, and the image we see in the mirror isn’t ours either. It’s them. They’ve hollowed us out and created shells.”
Pressing her lips against mine, Amira takes my face in her hands. “I don’t know if this trip can reverse any of that, but I want you to know something.”
I can’t utter any words, so I nod my head, falling apart under her gaze.
“I love you, through all the pain and all the fucked up, I love you, Roman Marcello, and no hunt, abuse, or fucking prison time has ever changed that.”
I can’t do anything but stare into her warm, chocolate eyes, and feel myself come undone as she spills our demons on the floor. I always do my best to stay strong, be the man she needs, but at this moment, I just fucking can’t.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, choking on a sob as she runs her fingers beneath my eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t take you away as I promised.”
I’m sorry I failed you.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
But most importantly, I’m sorry for leaving when I promised I’d stay.
“I forgive you... as long as you forgive me for making you carry some of the blame.”
“Always.”
We seal our absolution with a kiss, drawing strength from each other’s disintegrating foundations.
Bending low, Amira scoops up my dirty clothes and takes me by the hand, leading me out of the bathroom and into the main room.
She packs my stuff, asking nothing of me as I sink into the foam mattress. My eyes follow her movements, tracking her as she runs around the motel, searching and picking up anything we could leave behind.
I should help her, get off my lazy ass and move, but my limbs feel leaden, a force keeping me down in strength and spirit.
In no time, the room is clean. Our bags are stacked by the door, along with our caddy for toiletries. Used towels lie in a folded pile on top of the sink counter, waiting for pickup.
The room is ready for us to leave, nothing left to keep us here any longer, but I make no move to go. My eyes are stuck on the exit, but I can’t leave because I know the second we step foot in the car, there will be nothing holding us back from the ten-hour drive home.
“What do you think we’re going to find there?” Amira asks quietly, her socked foot toeing the carpet as she glares down at the purse in her hand.
Closure.
Or damnation.
“I have no idea, but we’re going to find out real soon.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AMIRA
The distance on the navigation is growing smaller, building up my anticipation as home gets closer.
I didn’t think we’d get here so fast. It’s barely eleven in the morning. Roman cut almost an hour off our time because he drives like a madman.
My leg is resting on the dash, with an ice pack wrapped in one of my t-shirts tied around the ankle, slowly bringing down the swelling I caused from bouncing it up and down.
I should be exhausted, sitting in a car for half of a day with nothing to do but stare at the passing of California’s most notorious Redwood trees. Instead, the only thing that’s tired is my ass… but my mind? I can’t get it to shut up.
Too many thoughts are whirling in and out of my head that I can’t take hold of a single one. It’s a war of voices and a battle of will.
Who will come out on top? Me or my nightmares?
“We’re almost there. Another hour and we’ll be within reach.”
“Can we stop?” I ask in a rush, one hand running through my curls while the other squeezes the hell out of the door’s handle.
I’m not ready to be back yet, not prepared for the tidal wave of emotions that will assault my senses the second my feet hit the familiar soil.
I know what will happen. I just don’t know how hard I’ll fall.
“Yeah, angel. We can stop. Here? Or?”
“Anywhere. Anywhere but home.”
Roman thinks for a minute, eyebrows pinching above blazing rings of gold and green while his lips purse tightly in their corners. I don’t know what is going on inside his head, but I see a light flash in his gaze.
Very quickly, Roman cuts across three lanes. Horns blare through the open window as fingers and slurs get hurled in our direction. It’s close, but we make it to the freeway exit.
“Where are we going?” I ask while I watch the speedometer shoot from seventy to ninety as we race off the exit ramp onto the entrance of a new freeway.
“It’s a surprise,” he responds, turning me into a puddle in my seat as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, and boiling my blood as his long, curled lashes flutter in my direction.
I can’t help the little shimmy my hips dance before settling back and enjoying the ride.
It’s incredible to me how quickly Roman can shift my mood around. I don’t even know where we’re going, yet I haven't felt this excited in what feels like forever.
After another twenty minutes of driving, a gasp squeals out of me when the glittering ocean comes into view.
“Oh my God! Roman! This is amazing!” I say, face pressed against the glass as I watch the surfers ride along the towering waves.
I can see Roman’s expression reflected in the window. The soft smile tilting his lips as he watches the back of my head. There’s love in that smirk, and I want to swallow it whole.
Finding a parking spot at twelve in the afternoon is tricky, but luckily for us, we see an open space at the very end of the lot, in between an enormous camper and small Volkswagen beetle.
I waste no time getting out of the car once it’s stopped, hypnotized by the bright colors of the boardwalk, lured in by the sweet scent of fried food and cloyingly sweet desserts.
I drift ahead of Roman, not bothering to look back once.
Laughter and screaming ring out in the air from the children riding on the rickety old roller coaster while others play silly carnival games with their parents hovering nearby.
“This is so cool!” I squeak, skipping past the entrance since there is no fee to enter.
“What do you want to do? Wanna ride the wheel?” I hear Roman ask, looking over my shoulder to see him pointing to the colorful, spinning Ferris wheel above our heads.
I give it a quick look before shaking her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. Some heights are fine, but I think that one is too much for me.”
Roman shrugs, never pushing me, which I’m grateful for as I spot the long ass line wrapped around the corner.
Taking my hand in his, we walk through the bustling port, occasionally stopping whenever I see something that catches my eye.
I turn into one of the many souvenir gift shops, bypassing everything; the keychains, t-shirts, and stuffed animals to head straight to the back, where they keep a large selection of beautifully colored stones, gems, and seashells.
Among the treasures is a necklace, an anatomically correct heart carved out of a Mystic black pearl.
“Do you like that one?” I hear Roman ask as he walks up beside me, his eyes peering over my shoulder as I hold the petite, delicate necklace up to the light. It shines with radiant shimmers, glittering blues and silver under the heavy fluorescent beams.
“I do. It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” I ask, watching his eyes sparkle with the pearls shine.
“It is, angel. Just like you.”
Quickly, Roman plucks the necklace from my hand and takes it to the counter, paying the sixteen-dollar fee so I can have a piece of the ocean forever.
Taking the chain from the cashier's hand, Roman comes behind me and wraps the necklace around my neck, securing it closed before splaying his fingers along my jaw and turning me for a kiss.
“Let’s go eat,” he whispers breathlessly against my lips, slipping his tongue over the seam of my mouth before taking my hand and pulling me out of the store.
My fingers don’t leave the smooth, polished surface of the pearl as Roman guides us through the bustling crowd, letting myself get caught up in each carved groove as the salty wind blows across my face.
We walk across the boardwalk to a rowdy burger shack hidden between a fresh seafood stand and a couple making tacos off a portable grill.
Once I catch a whiff of the fat and grease in the air, my stomach rumbles painfully, starving for food that doesn’t come out of a plastic bag.
“It smells so good in here, like potatoes and cheese,” I say, eyes scanning the menu they have posted on the outside of the shack.
The ocean breeze carries the salt and fried deliciousness from the kitchen into our noses. Sizzling meat and the rich aroma of boiling chili are making my stomach growl louder than the roaring crowd inside the tiny restaurant.
Stepping up to an open window, we place our orders and wait off to the side while they prepare our meals for us.
We wait with our arms resting on a worn, wooden beam, bodies leaning over the top as we watch the dark bluish water collide with thick poles keeping the pier standing. Out in the distance, a seal pokes his curious head out of the water, gazing at us just as we do at him.
I don’t know why, but I grow attached to his beautiful, black eyes, feeling myself shrink in sadness when he disappears back under the water.
