He squeezes me even tighter, pressing his forehead to my temple as he breathes softly against my ear. “I’m glad you came here,” he says gently. “You’re more than welcome to stay with us. Right, Tiffani?” He steps back, but he keeps his arm around me, holding me close.
“Of course!” Tiffani agrees, her voice sympathetic and laced with pity, as though she isn’t behind all of this. “I can’t believe you guys had a fight. You’re usually so close.”
If I weren’t so damaged inside, perhaps I’d have the energy to cuss at her. All I can do for now, though, is press my body closer again to Dean’s again. I wrap my arms around his back and inhale his scent. Usually he smells like grease and exhaust fumes, but now that he’s three thousand miles away from the garage he just smells like plain soap.
“Please don’t get upset,” he tells me as he rubs his hand up and down my arm. “Whatever happened will blow over.”
“I just want to sleep,” I murmur, still sensing Tiffani’s watchful eyes. The TV is still echoing in the background, too, and in all honesty I really do want to go to sleep. I want to fall asleep and then I want to wake up and realize that none of this has really happened. I’ll feel better in the morning. Less broken.
Dean drops his hand and loosely interlinks it with mine again as he carefully leads me across the suite. He pushes open the door to one of the bedrooms, and when I throw a glance over my shoulder Tiffani’s mouth has twisted into another one of her infamous smiles. She mouths something, but I don’t quite catch it, and I don’t quite care to either. I squeeze Dean’s hand harder as I turn back around, following him into the bedroom and clicking the door shut behind us.
The room is large, with a huge king-sized bed right in the center, and there’s more complex artwork decorating the walls. His luggage is lying across the floor and he quickly kicks it all to the side, letting go of my hand.
“Rachael and Tiff share the other room,” he says. “This is mine.”
I nod. Swinging my backpack off my shoulder, I place it onto the bed and start to fumble with the zips. “Where is Rachael?”
“Already asleep.” Shrugging, Dean moves around to one side of the bed and begins to adjust the pillows, throwing some to the side and pulling back the comforter. Everything is beige. He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and swiftly pulls it off, folding it up carelessly and tossing it onto the single chair in the corner of the room. He looks worried again, his forehead creased with concern as he walks back over to me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I press my hand to his bare chest, attempting to offer him a small smile. “Yeah. I’ll be better in the morning. I just need to get some sleep.”
I can tell by the way he frowns that he knows I’m lying, but he doesn’t push it any further, and I’m glad, because I’d much rather not talk about it. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I couldn’t tell him that the only reason I’m here is because Tiffani has ever so smoothly worked out the perfect way to blackmail me, and I can’t bring myself to keep mustering up lies either. If Dean does ask, perhaps I’ll tell him my argument with Tyler was about our parents. That’d work.
I strip off my clothes and stuff them into my backpack, and I realize I haven’t even packed half the stuff I should have. Sighing, I zip up my backpack and toss it onto the floor as I make my way around the bed wearing nothing but my underwear. As Dean turns off the lights, I slip into the bed and pull the comforter around me. The room dips into darkness and I can hear Dean shuffling around the floor, joining me seconds later.
“Like I said, don’t worry about it too much,” he murmurs as he presses his body against mine, his skin slightly cold as his chest brushes against my back. He wraps an arm around my stomach, and I breathe in as I place my hand on top of his. “It’ll blow over,” he reminds me once more, and I really, really hope he’s right.
By 2AM, I’m still awake. I’m lying still, staring at the ceiling and trying to force the image of Tyler’s face out of my mind. I can’t stop hearing his voice. I can’t stop thinking about him. I think of the way his eyes looked when I told him I wanted to stay with Dean and I think of the way he pleaded with me to rethink my decision.
And by 3AM, I can’t cope.
Dean’s rolled over onto the other side of the bed by this point, his body several inches away from mine, so I easily push the comforter away and get to my feet without him stirring. My eyes have long adjusted to the darkness, so I follow the outlines of the furniture as I search for my backpack, grabbing it when I find it and rummaging through it until I find my phone. I dial Tyler’s number straightaway. It’s on speed dial.
The first time, it goes to voicemail, but that doesn’t surprise me. It’s 3AM. He’s most likely asleep, but I’m desperate to talk to him, so I dial his number once more, hoping that if I’m persistent enough it’ll wake him up.
“Eden,” a voice says down the line as the call is picked up. It’s not Tyler’s, though. It’s Emily’s.