Page 12 of The Seascape Between Us

“Here you go,” Daniel said, when we reached the room. “Do you need help getting inside?”

I shook my head and fished out the key card. “I can handle it from here.”

“Okay. Well, good night.” He turned and started walking away, but instead of heading back the way we’d come, he continued down towards the last of the rooms, where the walkway ended.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

He turned to face me, folding his arms over his chest and jutting out his chin as if he were bracing for something. “I live in this suite.”

I frowned, not sure I was understanding him. “I’m sorry… You live here? In the hotel?”

His eyes narrowed, expression stony. “I just said so.”

“I thought you had a house where you and Ramona lived, some cottage up the hill.”

“We did, but Ramona had early onset dementia. When we got to the point she needed around-the-clock care, I had to sell the house and used the money to pay for the care home she was in.”

“Shit, Daniel, I’m sorry.” And I meant it. I knew his mother had died when he was fifteen, and his stepmother had been the only family he had left. “When did this happen?”

“She was diagnosed the same summer…” His voice trailed away.

“The same summerwewere together,” I finished for him.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

The food in my stomach soured. Hell, he’d only been eighteen back then, having to deal with all that on his own. “Why did you never tell me?”

He shrugged. “I never wanted you to know.”

His words stung like tiny darts, and my throat shriveled tight. He hadn’t wanted to talk to me about the single most important thing happening to him at that time. I bet he talked to hisfriend, Ryan, about it, though. Shit, it had all happened almost twenty years ago. Proof of how little I had mattered to him shouldn’t have felt like such a kick in the gut, but it did.

“I’ll let you get some sleep.” He turned and moved toward his room, leaving me to watch him walk away.

Chapter Five

Daniel

Iwoke with a dull headache—not the blinding pain of a migraine, thankfully—but the kind of steady ache I associated with hangovers and sleepless nights. The kind of ache that, once it took hold, didn’t let go no matter how many ibuprofens I popped.

After spending the night tossing and turning in my bed, my spinning thoughts refusing to settle and let me sleep, I really shouldn’t have been surprised by the headache or the slow, murky feeling clinging to me like a second skin. The last time I’d checked my phone, it had been close to four—two hours before my alarm went off. Though it had been closer to seven before I’d dragged my sleep-muddled ass out of bed and into the shower.

Now, dressed and ready for the day, I felt slightly more human, even if the same thoughts plaguing me for most of the night were still playing through my head, like a video caught on a loop. Just like last night, every time I closed my eyes, Grey’s image swam before me.

I still couldn’t believe I’d admitted to him I was living here. Though, given his plans for the Seascape, it was just a matter of time before he found out, anyway. People talked, after all, and Alistair was living with Grey’s colleague… Employee?… Friend? Whatever Finn was to him. I was surprised Grey hadn’t known from the start that I was living here after having to give up Ramona’s house.

At least he hadn’t used it as another thing to dig at me with. I wasn’t sure I could have gritted my teeth and put up with his sharp remarks. Letting go of that house had been hard, even knowing it would provide Ramona with the care she needed. When my mother and Ramona’s relationship morphed from employer and employee to friends to partners, moving from the hotel into Ramona’s house felt like I had a home for the first time since my mother left my father. We were a family, and the years we had there together were good—for a few years, anyway.

I drew a deep breath and shoved away the dark thoughts before pulling open the door and stepping out onto the open walkway running the length of the hotel. Despite the early hour, the sun was already bright and hot, making me wince. The salt-scented wind off the sea gave little relief. I started for the hotel lobby, passing Grey’s room, but refusing to look at his closed door or wide window with the drapes pulled tight.

He was probably still sleeping soundly and had been since he’d gone inside last night. Why wouldn’t he be, after all? He wasn’t losing his only source of income, his home. He didn’t have to tell his employees they were very likely going to lose their jobs.

The invisible band around my skull squeezed tighter.

When I reached the door inside, I hesitated just a moment. Here, after all, was the real source of my sleepless night. Admitting I lived at the hotel in one of the rooms wasn’t great, and worrying about losing the hotel had been a frequent cause of sleepless nights for years, but last night’s ceiling stare-downhad been brought to me by the memory of Grey stumbling on the stairs and me catching him to keep him from landing face-first.

It had been seventeen years since I touched him, since he’d been close enough to feel his solid frame flush with mine. Worse still, the heat from his body seeping through his clothes had feltsoenergizing. Something low inside me pulled tight, leaving me with an ache gripping my insides.

Back in my room, I had almost felt the imprint of his body against mine. Hell, the spice, sandalwood scent of his cologne had clung to me after, no doubt another contributing factor to my sleepless night.

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