Page 9 of Finding A Way Back Home

“They had an extra keycard for my room,” he said, shrugging. “And you’ve got over a grand on that gift card to use at any of their locations. You and Hads are the only people I know who might actually get their money out of that.” My younger sister, Hadlee—or Hads, for short—was a travel blogger, and bounced around just as often, if not more than I did.

“Well, thanks. I’m sorry for interrupting your swim, or whatever you were off to.”

“Nah, I was done, anyway. I’m sorry they fucked up your trip.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“Anytime, El. You know that.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. He’d always had my back…just not in the way I wanted.

“So… I’ll show you to the room?” He clapped his hands to his thighs before standing, swiping a suitcase in one hand and offering me the other. I stared at it for a beat before accepting the help to my feet.

“Broderick, I’m not so sure I should?—”

“This is what pullout sofas are for.”

I bit my lip and didn’t miss the way he tracked it before gluing his eyes to mine. That was why he was so infuriating. Everything about our private interactions screamed I wasn’t alone in my infatuation—at the very least, attraction—but in the more than decade since I’d been of age, he’d never made a damn move.

Move on dot org. That needed to be my new life motto. It was high time I just trucked right along and forgot about him. But as that bright smile flashed wider, my stomach flopped, and I resolved to be single forever.

“Stop thinking so hard and come invade my space.”

“You swear it’s not a bother?”

“I swear. You won’t even notice me. I’ll sleep on the spare bed and be gone before you wake in the morning.”

Broderick

We both stared, slack jawed, at what I could only describe as a crime scene on the hideaway mattress. Gouged holes leaked stuffing from the already-thin cushion. A dark rust-colored stain spread out in a great circle with small splatters across the corner. My livid call to the front desk resulted in as much progress as my passionate petition of Hallie and her manager. A credit to the restaurant—dinner, on the house—as an apology for the inconvenience. The hotel was as hyper-extended as a leaf spring with too large a load.

My eyes were still closed, thumb and forefinger pinching my temples as El paced from one side of the room to the other.

“What the hell do I do now?”

Sighing, resigned to the seventh level of hell I was damning myself to, I motioned to the bed.

Her eyes flew wide. “Absolutely not.”

“Got an alternate?” I countered.

“I’m working on it.” She lifted her phone and demanded, “Anything?” Her scowl said whoever filled the line didn’t have answers, either. “Come on, work your tech magic. There’s gotta be something.”

Smiling wryly, I said, “Hey, Maxipad.”

She shot me a glare, but amusement tugged on those glossed lips. “Broderick says hi…yes, that Broderick… He’s attending, what do you think he’s doing here? … He’s got me in his room at the moment, but there’s gotta be another option… No, of course not.” Her gaze flicked back to mine before she whirled towards the city, lowering her voice to a hiss I couldn’t decipher as she inevitably retaliated Max’s snark back in his direction.

This was fine. This would be fine. We were both adults. Professionals. Off fucking limits. It’s not like we hadn’t been camping together dozens of times. This time was just…alone. With a murder scene in the corner. On one queen sized mattress with?—

Nope. Nope, I was fucked. And there was no un-fucking once properly fucked.

Needing to do something with my hands and not stare at the disturbing stains any longer, I walked over and folded the hideaway back into place inside its disarming exterior—which did nothing to ease my need to wash my hands. Maybe I’d hop on the forums and find a room full of dudes, and just crash in there. I sure as hell wasn’t leaving El to find a place in filthy Sin City alone.

No room for one of their speakers, for fuck's sake. Who got fired today?

“Yeah, okay,” El said with a forlorn sigh. “Keep me posted, please? Yes, I’ll eat… No, I won’t be a bitch… Okay… Yes please… Love you, Max.”

The call disconnected, and she rocked on her heels before saying, “Welp,” popping her lips on the ‘p’ like Jameson so often did. I swallowed hard. Oh, fuck. Max knew. Which meant Alice would know. Which meant Paxton and Finn would hear and Jameson would inevitably pick up the trail at some point. And then I was well and truly fucked. How does a man explain his way out of this? What grown man would believe the tale?

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