Lonesome Beds and Bumpy Roads (Beds #3) (17 page)

As much as I hated letting Lex’s hand go so she could head home, I kind of needed to. I want a minute alone with Grams because I’m not sure if I can say everything I want to say in front of an audience.

Brett’s out in the hallway, yawning as the coffee machine in front of him pours his sixth cup.

“Hey,” I say, leaning against the wall.

“Hey.”

“Could you do me a favor?”

He yawns again, nodding before he takes a sip. I check Grams’ room door, making sure Pop-pop doesn’t walk out, even though I know he won’t leave her side unless it’s a bathroom emergency. And there’s a bathroom in her room.

“Will you take Pop-pop home? Tell him to take a shower, change his clothes, do something before he comes back here?”

Brett lets out a humorless chuckle. “I’ll try, but I really don’t think he’ll go for it.”

“I’ll ask him.”

He nods, and I pat his shoulder in gratitude, then turn to Grams’ room. I get the door partway open when I turn back.

“Oh, and take a nap or something while you’re there.”

He grins. “Planning on it.”

I push the rest of the way into the room, the sound of the TV quiet and low. Grams is sitting up, resting against a pillow, hands unmoving by her sides. Pop-pop has moved one of the cushioned chairs to right by her head, and he’s drawing circles along the skin of her arm. He nods to me when I step into view, and then glances back at the television. I look up and see Grey’s Anatomy on the screen.

“You’re still making him watch your shows, huh?” I laugh at Grams who gives a barely-there nod and half-smile. She picks up her hand, pats her heart, then points at that actor she loves. Pop-pop shakes his head.

“I think it’s her way of telling me I need some sleep.”

She nods with a smile in her eyes and goes back to watching. I cross the room and set a hand on Pop-pop’s shoulder. “I think,” I say quietly, “you need a shower.”

Grams nods and waves a lazy hand in front of her nose. I chuckle while Pop-pop “pffts.” I wait until Grams’ attention is on the TV again before leaning down in Pop-pop’s ear.

“I know you don’t want to leave, but… I could use a minute with her.” I pause and he looks back at me with a raised brow. “Please?”

He lets out a long sigh and pats the hand I have on his shoulder. “Okay Maysie,” he says, calling her by the nickname he only uses when he’s worried, “I’ll wash up. But I’m leaving you in good hands.”

He pushes himself from the chair, kisses Grams’ cheek, letting it linger as if he doesn’t want to go anywhere, but he will to give me the time I need. When he straightens, he pats my back and I take his vacated seat. I wait till I hear the soft click of the door before even taking a breath.

“Hey,” I say, attempting a smile. Grams returns it and waves. I know it sounds weird, but she looks so different without her voice. Somehow more fragile. Though it could be the hospital bed, the room, the monitors.

I scoot the chair closer and settle my hand on top of hers.

“I love you.”

Her eyes connect with mine, and she puts her free hand against her heart and pats it twice.

“I asked Lex to move in with me,” I blurt, knowing I need to dive into this conversation before I lose the nerve. “After graduation.”

Her eyes narrow, and she tilts her neck slightly. It makes me drop my head with a laugh.

“Yeah, living in sin. I know.” I take a deep breath. “She… she didn’t say yes.”

Grams’ soft hand taps my chin, forcing me to look at her. Her brows bunch together, and though I know my right-winged Grandmother doesn’t exactly approve of Lex and I sharing a place, she’s definitely confused by our relationship discourse.

“She said she wasn’t even sure about college anymore. Wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay close, stay at home, for her mom… but mostly for her dad. Help him out. Be there for him.”

Her head tilts even farther to the side, confusion still playing along the lines of her face.

“Yeah, I didn’t get it either,” I say. “Why someone would put a pause on the life they’ve been impatiently waiting for. I was mad about it. Jealous even. But… I get it now.”

Boy, do I get it now. Everything hits me over the head again. Seeing Grams on the floor at the house, the blood seeping from her lips, the agonizing hours while we waited and waited and waited just to hear if she’d be okay.

The doctor’s say she’s okay.

They say she made it through when many people don’t.

But I look at Grams and I don’t see “okay.”

“Grams,” I say, my forehead falling to our hands. My breath comes in hot waves against our skin. “I… I don’t want to move out. I don’t even want to leave the hospital.”

Without even looking, I know she’s trying to shake her head. Her fingers twitch, resting on my hair and trying desperately to make stroking, soothing motions.

“You’re not just Grams,” I mutter, tilting my head to the side to look at her. My eyes start to burn along with the voice in my throat. “You’re the mother I never had.”

Her mouth turns, forming into a smile
and
a frown. The kind of look someone gives when they don’t feel worthy of a compliment. But she is completely worthy of it. Beyond worthy of the fumbly and watery words that have started to pour from my mouth.

“You raised me, even though I know another kid was not on your life plan. You paused your dreams for me.” I push my face into our hands again. “I can’t abandon you.”

So many people in my life have been abandoned. Lexie, Brett,
me
. Grams has been there for all of us. Moving away now seems like an impossible decision. The
wrong
decision.

Grams picks up my chin again, moving her hand to my cheek. A twitch of a smile crosses her face, a tear lodged in one of her laugh wrinkles by her eye. Slowly, she removes her touch from my face and presses her hand to her chest. She pats it a few times, then attempts a thumbs up.

I shake my head with a small laugh. But as quick as she can, she puts a finger to my lips because she’s not done “talking” yet.

She cups my hand between hers, brings them to her lips, and then pushes them away. Letting me go. Forcing me to go.

“I can’t,” I say, and grab her hand again. She gives me a stern look and pushes my hand back.

“I
can’t
.”

She points at me, making it the equivalent of when she sends me to my room. I laugh, shaking my head at my now empty hands. “You always argue with me.”

She smiles, then pushes that pointing finger into my chest. Then draws her hand back and presses it against her heart. She does the movement over and over, tears trickling down her small smile lines.

Points at me, hand on heart.

Me.

Heart.

Me.

Heart.

I lean up, pecking her forehead, mainly to hide the burning tears threatening to burst. Grams squishes my cheeks, and I know that she’s not really letting me go, but giving me permission to live my life the way I planned. But the thing is, I plan on living my life with the people I love. And she has to know that includes her.

It’s been a few days since Grams collapsed and changed my entire outlook on life. That’s all it took. A single moment of almost losing someone who has always been there for me, to help put my life into perspective.

After that I knew giving Dad my entire life savings was the right thing to do. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to get him started on the treatments, and I know we’ll find a way to figure out the rest.

I pull my car into the first open space in the hotel parking lot and skip toward Dad’s room. If I’ve learned anything the past few months, it’s that life is too darn short not to skip. I take the walk to his room, and when I turn ready to knock, I don’t have to. The door is ajar and I peek inside.

A maid busies herself with stripping the sheets and replacing them with new. Dad must’ve taken a walk while housekeeping tidies up his room. I glance around the lot, but don’t see him anywhere.

That’s weird. I told him yesterday I’d be here at this time. I’m surprised he’s not waiting in the parking lot. I turn back to the room and watch as the maid picks up the hat I bought him and tosses it in the garbage.

Anger forms into a tidal wave and crashes down onto the woman in the room. “What the hell are you doing?” I reach past her, ripping the garbage pail away from her and sticking my hand into the bag to pull out the hat. “You can’t just throw people’s stuff out. What kind of housekeeper are you?”

The woman’s dark eyes narrow at me, and she looks like she’s going to snap at me when she flicks her gaze to the ceiling. “We throw out all things that are left behind.”

“This,” I say, holding the hat up to her, “was not left behind. My dad should be back any minute.”

“This room is currently vacant,” the woman says, and I all but roll my eyes at her.

“It is not.”

“Miss, I’m sorry, but the gentleman who was staying in this room checked out this morning.”

A hot, thick lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. “No.” I shake my head, knowing she’s clearly in the wrong room. “You’re mistaken. He’s still here. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The woman shrugs and a pitied look passes her eyes so I turn away. I don’t want to be pitied. Besides she has nothing to pity me for.

“Ma’am I just clean the rooms. I was told this room is now vacant. So I’m here doing my job. If you want more information maybe try the front desk.”

“I’ll be back,” I say, confident she’s in the wrong room. But as I step away from the door and toward the front desk, a nasty knot forms in my stomach and there’s this annoying little voice telling me I’m the one who is wrong.

I ignore the gut feeling and the stupid voice and march my ass to the main desk. There’s an older lady behind the counter who is one bad dye job away from joining the circus and scaring little kids.

Her overly made-up lips push into an over the top smile as I approach. “How can I help you today?”

“I just went to room 203 and there’s someone in there cleaning. She told me the room is now vacant.”

“Yes,” the woman says, blinking her tarantula eyelashes at me. The thought makes me shudder and I step back before they crawl off her face and attack. “Did you leave something behind?”

“No.” I take a deep breath and step back toward her creepy arachnid eyes. “The man in that room did not check out.”

She blinks and I swear those are legs wiggling at me and not eyelashes. “Mr. Carter checked out at ten fifty-two this morning.”

My pounding heart slows. I knew it was all a big misunderstanding. “The man who was in that room is Mr. Boggs.”

“No, it’s Mr. Carter. I have it all right here.” The woman pushes a book at me and points to the name. Chris Carter is scribbled on the page. I’m waiting for Nate to jump out from the counter and yell some magic jargon and tell me this is all an illusion.

I shove the book back. “I see that, but I’m telling you that is not his name.”

“And I’m telling you, Mr. Carter is who was staying in room 203 and he has since checked out.”

The tidal wave of anger that collided into the housekeeper, pulls back and winds up for another crash. A man walks in the door and steps behind the counter. He’s familiar. I’ve seen him before. Seen him talking to my dad. He’ll know.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say, totally disregarding the helpless woman in front of me.

He lifts his head in my direction. “Yes?”

“You know my father. He was here. Dark hair. Tall. Was staying in room 203.”

“Yes, Mr. Carter, he said you might stop by, and if you did he wanted me to give you this.” He reaches into his pocket and I clench my fists, trying to subside the rage building inside of me.

“His name isn’t Carter it’s Boggs. You have the wrong guy!”

“Dark hair? Yay high? Wore a black leather coat?”

“Yes, but…” I don’t know how many ways I can argue this.

“Are you Alexis?” the man asks.

“Yes.”

The man holds out a folded piece of paper. “Then this is for you.”

I look down at my ‘Dark Side of the Mood’ nails and wish I was wearing something a little less dark. I could use a little brightness right now. My curiosity overrides the pure terror rising to the surface.

With a shaking hand I take the paper from the man and slowly unfold it. My heart plummets to the ground at the three words staring back at me.

Don’t Hate Me. 

He wouldn’t. No. I don’t believe it. I shove the paper in my pocket and run out the door, back to the room. The housekeeper is gone, but the door is unlocked and I let myself in.

I spin around looking for Dad’s stuff. Any sign to show me he’s still here. But his bag is gone. His toiletries gone. His leather coat gone. The only thing left is the hat in my hand and the paper in my pocket.

This can’t be happening. No. I believed him. For so long I resisted his charm. I listened to the nagging voice in my head telling me he was just passing through. He wasn’t here out of the kindness of his heart. He wanted something. And then…I believed him. Every single word he said, I believed and he lied. He took off again. The realization rears its ugly head and bum rushes me in the gut. How could he? He left me. Again.

And he didn’t just take my heart, he took my entire life savings with him.

Anger surges through me for being dumb enough to trust him. I should’ve known better. Ryan warned me and I didn’t listen. My own father has made a fool out of me.

I’m on autopilot, as I put the car in drive and head out to the street. I drive, not thinking about where I’m going, too consumed in the battle of emotions. Disgust is currently beating out anger.

Ten minutes later I’m in Ryan’s driveway. He has so much going on already. But I need him. His car is in the driveway, but Pop-pop’s isn’t.

I walk to the door, but I don’t knock. Instead I sit down on the warm steps and rock, urging myself to calm down before knocking.

A lump lodges itself in my throat but I manage to push it back. I calm myself down and knock. The door opens and the minute I see Ryan’s sweet smiling face I feel like a big ball of disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking me in his arms and brushing my hair out of my face. “Lex, talk to me.” He sounds desperate and I hate that I can’t get the words out. Then again I don’t know if I want to. Once I say them, it’s real. I have to accept the fact that my father abandoned me again.

His beautiful brown eyes gaze into mine and I focus on them, drawing his strength into me.

He runs his thumbs across the apples of my cheek. “What is it?”

“You were right.” I choke on my words and Ryan presses me to his shoulder.

“Right about what?” he asks, stroking my hair.

I pull back and take a deep breath. “My dad. He…He…” A hot searing poker burns my throat, restricting the words, and I can’t manage to finish the sentence, so I shake my head and bite my lip.

Ryan looks into my eyes again and I see it. Without any words, he knows.

“He’s gone,” he says instead of asks.

I nod and suck in a breath, but it only fuels the uncontrollable sadness ripping through me.

Ryan squeezes me to him, his hand cradling my head.

“I should’ve listened to you,” I force out.

“Shh,” Ryan whispers against my ear.

“He left me. Again. Why does he always leave?”

“He’s an idiot,” Ryan says, and I can hear the confidence in his tone, but the truth is, my dad isn’t the idiot. I am.