Page 12 of Forgiving Fate

“Not anything I couldn’t handle.”

Landon nods. “Alright. I’ll let you head to your room and get some sleep. Meet you back down here at nine am so we can get back on the road. Remember, you have my number if you need anything.”

Standing, I hand him his key and make my way towards my room. He takes a seat in the lobby just like he did the previous day and lets me disappear into the elevator.

I make it safely into my room and check the entire place before taking a seat on the bed and falling back onto it. I let out a breath and sink further into the plush bedding.

For the first time in a while, I let myself give into the exhaustion. Not only have the past few weeks been beyond exhausting. But the last few days with Landon have been a different level of mental exhaustion.

He hasn’t done anything wrong, but the uneasiness I feel radiating off his body, despite him being shockingly helpful, is messing with my mind. I feel safe and a sense of protectiveness, but I can tell he is constantly on edge. And despite Logan telling me time and time again before Landon got there that he is a good man, you never know every side of a person until they choose to show it to you.

Whatever is eating at him must be awful because at points during the drive I notice after a few hours his grip tightens on the wheel and his hands start to shake. I’m not sure if he even notices the shakiness which makes me believe whatever darkness is floating inside him must have been going on for a while.

Sitting up in the bed, I kick my shoes off and grab the bag of clothing Logan sent with Landon and head to the bathroom. I don’t look in the mirror as I turn the shower on and get undressed.

As soon as I step underneath the hot spray, my muscles stiffen, then relax after a few minutes. My mind starts to drift, and I instantly shut it away. I rid my mind of everything as best I can and stand there until the water runs cold.

When I step out of the shower, I quickly get dressed, avoiding the mirror once again. Before getting in bed, I check the door one more time and plug my phone in next to the bed. I make sure it is within reach and get settled into bed. I keep one light on. My extreme exhaustion hits and I start drifting off to sleep. But it doesn’t last long when I hear the door handle wiggle.

I jolt up, and my chest constricts. What the hell is going on?

The handle wiggles again and I check my phone to see if Landon has an emergency and is trying to get to me.

But he doesn’t know your room number, you idiot.

I try to calm myself as the handle continues to move, but it’s useless. With shaky fingers, I unlock my phone and bring up Landon’s contact.

I’m debating on whether to call or text when a familiar voice filters through the room. “Come on, you piece of shit door. Fucking open.”

It’s the clerk from downstairs. I kick myself that I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Allie: Room 203. Someone is trying to get in.

The text is simple, but I know he will understand. And I am proven right when less than a minute later, a text appears on the screen.

Landon: On my way.

Quietly, I search the room for something to fight this asshole off if he gets in here before Landon can stop him. Luck is on my side when I find a butter knife in the small kitchenette.

Being as quiet as I can, I tiptoe over to the large bay window and hide behind the heavy curtains that are so long the bottoms rest on the floor. The hiding spot gives me the opportunity to run off in one direction if he discovers my spot and I am unable to stun him with this dull as fuck butter knife.

Second after second ticks by and the door continues to wiggle. My mind races along and I can no longer ignore the voices in my head trying to play out every outcome of how this will go.

“I can do this. The clerk was half the size of the man you once brought to the ground,” I whisper to myself.

Or is this all part of Landon’s grand scheme and he is just using this as a tactic to get into my room?

I shake my head and will myself to not go there. He hasn’t shown me an ounce of malicious or manipulative behavior. He has had plenty of opportunities to do something and hasn’t.

But maybe he is just trying to let you think that so you let your guard down.

The voices and theories grow stronger and louder in my head as the seconds tick by.

A loud thump sounds through the room, and I expect the clerk to come stumbling through the door.

I let out a sigh and accept that I will have to fight with the little strength I have left.

A knock pounds on the door and my entire body jumps.

---