Page 29 of The Bridges I've Burned

But sitting across from him now, I realized it wasn’t an act.

He looked like he’d scored the fucking jackpot.

“Oh, um, just one of the hotels in town,” I answered, looking at one of the oil paintings on the wall. “Is that local?”

“It’s Marin’s,” he answered matter-of-factly. “What hotel?”

“Uh, The Cozy Motel.” My gaze was still fixated on that painting. “Marin’s an artist? She’s good. Does she showcase in town?”

A moment of silence followed, then another.

“Did you know you still avoid eye contact when you lie?”

My eyes snapped to his. “What do you mean?”

His hands rested on his lap, his shoulder back as his intense gaze pinned me in place. At that moment, he looked every bit the authoritative sheriff he was. It was intimidating as fuck.

“The Cozy Motel hasn’t been in business for years.”

Shit. I should have noticed that last night. I’d been too focused on finding food.

“So, I’ll ask again,” he said. “Where are you staying?”

“You know where we used to sleep like pirates?”

“You’re sleeping on the fucking beach, Zander?” His voice was filled with shock, but there was also a hint of regret, too. Maybe those were conflicting memories for him, too.

“This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment trip for me,” I explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask why.

“A letter arrived for you today at the bar,” Hendrix said.

I lay sprawled out on the hotel bed, freshly showered but utterly wiped. Five months, twenty cities. No fucking sleep.

“At the bar?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated. “It’s from your brother. Looks kind of fancy.”

My stomach tightened as I stared up at the ceiling. “Just leave it in the stack with the rest.”

“You don’t want me to open it?”

“No,” I answered. “It’s not important.”

It had taken me another three days after I got home to break the seal.

I avoided his gaze. “There isn’t exactly a lot of options in Ocracoke for accommodations in the summer.”

He let out a sigh. “No, there isn’t.”

“It’s no big deal,” I told him. “I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. And it’s not like I’ve never slept on the beach before.”

“It is a big deal,” he countered. “We’re not helpless kids, trying to avoid one of Dad’s benders. I can find somewhere for you to stay.”

“Macon,” I sighed. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. You’ve got enough on your plate, and unless you went and bought a hotel I don’t know about, there’s really nowhere for me to stay. And I’m not staying here—that would be just fucking weird.”

“It wouldn’t be weird,” he argued.

I gave him an incredulous stare. “On the night of your engagement party? Come on, brother. I know it’s not your wedding night or anything, but no one wants that kind of cockblock. I’ve met your fiancée. She would make it her life’s mission to be hostess of the year.”

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