Page 46 of Falling for Grace

“You’re certainly channelling your inner asshole now.” I shouldn’t bite, but I do.

“Because I’m fucking angry.” He launches his mobile at the dashboard, “And you sit there and act all righteous, and it drives me fucking insane.”

“Righteous? Are you hearing yourself right now? I’m not about to open up and tell you everything that has happened over the last three years whilst I’m driving the fucking car Brandon. Just put a sock in it.” I lean forward and turn the music up the lyrics to Sia Chandeler sweet raspy voice. Brandon continues to fidget next to me, but remains silent for the rest of the journey.

Rather than taking the left at the main traffic lights that takes us to the Holders house, I turn left and Brandon glances across.

“I need to check into the hotel.” I say answering his silent question, we pull up and I turn off the ignition taking a deep breath and turning my full attention to the coiled spring next to me.

“I won’t be long, I just need to check in and dump my suitcase.” I go to climb out and he grabs my hand again.

“Let me help you with your suitcase.” There’s no negotiating, he’s already getting out the car and opening the back door to grab my suitcase, which I had thrown on the backseat. I’m more than capable of doing it alone, and if I’m honest I’m completely utterly terrified of being in a hotel room alone with Brandon. The car journey was torturous and there’s more to come. That was just a prologue.

We walk through the small reception area. The hotel is attached to one of the local pubs that we had all spent many nights at. It isn’t the nicest of hotels but it’s functional, and it’s close enough for me to walk to and from the Holders’ house over the course of the next few days, allowing me to come and go as I please and support them all through this shitty time. The receptionist recognises Brandon as soon as he walks in the door. I wonder how it must be for local people to see Brandon in his hometown, a Hollywood Actor just strolling into the local pub. Just like today.

He steps off to the side and lets me get my key without trying to draw too much attention, but once one person starts glancing over, more and more eyes notice him.

“Got it,” I announce, overly chirpy, grabbing the suitcase from him. “You can either wait in the car or check out my temporary home for the next few nights.” He doesn’t respond as he kicks off the wall and stands beside me, waiting for me to lead the way.

“Room 341,” I say, walking towards the elevator. “Do you remember that time we were here and Harry fell off that bar stool and hit his head. He wasn’t even drunk.” I smile but stop when I see that Brandon is barely acknowledging the fact I said anything. He’s just staring at me.

I know that look, and I gulp down the fake smile.

Well, shit.

Brandon is close to exploding.

The lifts make a small noise, and the doors grate against the metal as they struggle to open. I shudder at the thought of them potentially breaking and me getting stuck in the lift with this ticking time bomb. I get inside first and Brandon stands waiting on the threshold.

“Brandon?” He looks at me and shakes his head as he steps in, his eyes not breaking contact with mine. I feel myself shrink. His huge bulk and emotions fill the small space, making the air thick and suffocating.

My insides scream out for me to run.

Run away.

Be the coward that I know I am.

I’m on edge, waiting for him to say or do something.

Anything.

Because this is hell.

I’m standing in front of him but I can tell he is staring at the back of my head. I can feel the heat of his gaze

Why the fuck is this lift going so slowly?

I shift my weight from leg to leg and fidget. Constantly fidget.

“Here we are.” I breathe out a huge sigh of relief and rush through the doors, not even looking behind me to see if he is following me.

Because I know he is.

We walk down the narrow beige hallway, past doors to the left and right, the room numbers slowly increasing to the one I’m looking for. I stop at the door and pull the card out my back pocket, my hands shaking as I try to place it in the slot, but I miss. Brandon takes hold of my hand. The heat in his touch blazes my skin and I pull away, my breath hitching.

I take a step back to put some space between us and let him open the door for me. I take a breath and cross the boundary line from the safety of the hallway to whatever is about to happen in that small double room. I close the door behind me.

He’s standing in front of the bed, his hands crossed behind his head, his elbows pointing outward. He turns to me.

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