Page 73 of Surrender

Turning my mind off while I work proves to be a difficult task. My thoughts are a revolving loop of Whitney, her kids, sex with Whitney, her ex, and every once in a while, I’m reminded of the busy check-out we have planned at the motel tomorrow. The snowmobile races were a hectic success. I’ve been through this for enough years that I had the foresight to bring on one of my part-timers to help Hunter and our cleaner turn over rooms, so at least I won’t be needed first thing in the morning.

Thoughts of the motel freeze my hands mid twist of a screwdriver. The tool clatters loudly to the floor as I rush back to my phone and call Hunter.

“Hey, boss.”

“Sorry if you were sleeping.”

“You know I run on only about four hours.”

“Can you do me a favor? Check through the check-ins this past week and look for the name Devon Thompson.”

“Yeah, give me one second.”

We’ve been booked solid so I didn’t even consider the idea that her ex would have a room at my motel, but if he’s been planning this for a while, it’s possible he put in a reservation weeks ago before I knew who he was and paid in cash.

Less than three minutes later, Hunter says, “I don’t see anyone by that name.”

Tension releases with my exhale. At least that’s one more place he’s not hiding. “Thanks. That’s all I needed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later, Jack.”

I drop my phone back to the table and resume fastening locks to cabinets. Once those are finished, I stick padded bumpers on all the table edges and corners before calling it a night.

At one o’clock in the morning, I sit in my recliner in the dark living room with only the flicker of dying flames in the fireplace for company. I smile at the padded bumpers everywhere, but then the reminder of why I’m doing all this wipes the smile clean away. My fingers wrap tightly around the bottle of a full beer, and I stare at the embers, unable to turn off my mind.

* * *

My chin bounces off my chest at the sound of a door closing. The beer bottle in my hand grew warm some time ago, and now I hold on to it purely from muscle memory. It’s one involuntary twitch away from smashing all over my floor. Scrubbing a palm over my gritty eyes, I stare at the entrance to the hall.

Whitney appears wearing the same sweatshirt as earlier. Her hair is twisted into a messy blond knot on top of her head. At first she doesn’t seem to notice me as she scans the darkened living room, the fire long ago stopped producing useful light.

“Jack?” She inches closer. Her shoulders fall from her ears as we lock eyes. “Have you been awake all night?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” My voice is stained with grit and lack of use.

“That can’t be comfortable.”

It’s not. I’m too fucking old to sleep in a chair, but for some reason, I’d do it for her. “It’s fine.”

“Then why are you awake?”

“I heard you.”

“I didn’t make that much noise.”

I take a deep breath. “The outdoor security cameras will be installed tomorrow. I can sleep then.”

“You slept just fine last night.”

“It was just you and me last night,” I tell her honestly. “The kids are here now. More people I need to protect.”

“That’s crazy.” The words float on her breath as she leans forward. I flinch.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

“I—yes.”

“Good. That’s all that matters.”

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