Sadie (18+)

Chapter 39

The air between us felt heavy in the dark and stuffy car. I leaned my head back against headrest and took in the world flying past. The glowing high beams and break lights mingled with the blur of raindrops against the windshield. The bright glow of the moon was taunting as it followed us on the highway—it knew every sin, every secret of ours.

The strangely melancholic ride took over an hour, but I didn't quite mind the silence, the way it settled between us. I had thought Vincent picked somewhere far away to ensure our privacy, and surely some of it was that, but it turned out he wanted to visit Bryan sometime before Monday.

I wasn't sure if I would be accompanying him. I wasn't sure of anything as we drifted down the highway, putting distance between the very thing we escaped from.

I felt like a child, humble and defenseless in his leather seat. The man beside me was quiet, his lips set in a thin line, the bags under his eyes heavier and reminiscent of what occurred earlier.

Vincent appeared to be irritated by the obnoxious scraping of the windshield wipers, but the rain was much too powerful to turn them off. He grumbled something incomprehensible, his fists tightening against the steering wheel.

I wanted desperately to take away his pain and every negative emotion which infected him, and carry it myself. And while I already carried so much of my own, for him, I would lug around every bit of it if he'd let me.

When the hotel came into view, I yawned and stretched my legs against the car seat. The hotel was part of the Hilton franchise. I took in the perfectly trimmed foliage which lined the establishment after we'd pulled into the parking lot.

Once outside into the crisp air, I stood awkwardly under the grim, rainy night with my backpack slung over my shoulder, Vincent's body shadowed by the glowing red LED lights which bordered the roof as he gathered his belongings.

Before we'd arrived, Vincent had stopped at a convenience store, hence the reason he clutched a suspicious, brown paper bag in the shape of a large bottle of liquor. He stuffed it into his bag; the bottle of whiskey just barely fit.

The hotel was modern but basic, though it was clean and smelled nice. Vincent didn't seem to mind throwing his money away tonight; when he spoke with the clerk at the front desk, he opted for the largest suite, the room which consisted of a jacuzzi big enough for two. I assumed what this decision meant, and my body welcomed it with an excited jitter.

Being here, an hour from home, an hour from the domestic problems which haunted us, was relieving. Now in the dimly lit hotel room, standing against the patterned grey rug and abstract paintings, it felt as though we were in our own bubble, shielded from the issues which existed outside of it.

Vincent acted as though this situation was the most normal thing in the world. He moved past me and dropped his belongings on the king-sized bed and shrugged off his coat. I wandered around the room, my eyes finding the jacuzzi, which was not in the bathroom but the main space maybe six feet from the bed, separated only by white tile.

He hung his coat in the tiny closet by the door, then kicked off his shoes. I watched him, speechless and suddenly tense.

The urge to drink became an incessant itch, like an enlarged, pulsing mosquito bite that could only be relieved by a set of sharp fingernails. I slipped out the bottle of whiskey from the paper bag and plopped down onto the soft bed, crossing my legs.

"Can I have some of this?" I asked, holding up the bottle clutched in my hand.

"Knock yourself out," he mumbled; his tone was dry and careless—it was both attractive and concerning. It was not like Vincent to not worry about my drinking habits. It was how I sensed that the fight with Gina had deeply troubled him, although the evidence weighed in his shoulders as well.