Page 93 of Side Trip

Dylan wanted more mornings like this one.

Joy’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on the phone above her in his hand. He felt the moment she saw who was calling. She stiffened. His eyes closed and an unsettled heaviness filled his chest. The vision faded from his mind.

Joy grasped his wrist with one hand and plucked the phone from him with her other. She bolted upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and answered the call. The bed suddenly felt cold.

“Hello?” Her voice croaked from exhaustion.

He’d made her that tired, Dylan thought, smug.

“I’m safe ... I found a hotel until the storm passed ... You did?” She glanced at Dylan over her shoulder but didn’t make eye contact. “I’m sorry, I should have called. We—I mean, I—Hold on.”

She stood, fully nude, and his breath caught. So beautiful. Her gaze searched the room, landing on her luggage. She grabbed the case and strode to the bathroom with the phone pressed to her ear. “Can this wait until I get home? ... Calm down, please ... Okay, I’m listening.”

The bathroom door shut and locked. She’d barely looked at him and he tried not to think what the one glance she’d spared him meant. He was her guilty one-nighter.

She, on the other hand, was the most incredible twenty-four hours of his life.

Dylan rolled onto his stomach and hugged the pillow under his chin. He’d stopped counting the number of times they’d made love, because that had been what they were doing. Making love. At some point during their marathon, what was happening between them had become more than sex to him.

Dylan raked back his hair. Three nights left before she dropped him off at the airport. He wanted more, and he’d almost asked yesterday on the roadside. He hadn’t planned to. The thought just appeared and tripped off his tongue.What if this trip didn’t have to end?

Joy had wanted to know what he was going to say. But her slick skin wrapped in a towel and the hunger in her eyes distracted him. Their conversations last night never veered back to it.

“Fuck.” His heart raced. This was huge for him. But was it really what he wanted? Judging by the goofy grin he wore, yes. Relationships were a complicated mess, and he still feared he’d fuck it up. But he wasn’t ready to let Joy go.

Dylan heard the shower start and blew out a breath, disappointed she hadn’t asked him to join her. He could hear her muffled voice. She was still on the phone.

Time to get moving. He had two nights of gigs in Chicago that he’d pushed back because of the storm, and he should call Rick. Hopefully he hadn’t screwed himself over. Chase would be pissed.

He rolled out of bed, pulled on his shorts, and packed. He tossed their food scraps from his late lunch run to the grocery store yesterday afternoon and straightened the room. He then tried to call Rick from the motel phone. Again, no answer. “Fuck.” He was screwed.

Dylan slammed down the receiver and turned on the news. All clear, according to the meteorologist. Crystal-blue skies as far as the eye could see. The shower still ran. Probably to cover up her conversation with Mark. Dylan slowly shook his head, lips pressed tight. This didn’t bode well for them.

He channel surfed. After an hour passed and the shower stopped, he knocked on the bathroom door.

“You all right?” he asked, his voice thick with concern.

The door swung open. Joy stood in a cloud of steam, dressed and ready for the road. He took in her high ponytail, pink blouse, and ankle-length lavender skirt. She gripped the luggage handle in one hand and Judy’s bucket list in the other. His heart sank and his gaze lifted to her face. Gone was his Cali girl.

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing her red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks. He skimmed the back of his hand along her cheekbone. She averted her face and he let his arm fall to his side.

“Bathroom is all yours. You should shower. We need to leave.” She walked past him, her demeanor stiff and formal.

“What did Mark say to you?”

“Nothing of import.” She folded her damp clothes from yesterday.

Dylan frowned. “I don’t believe you.”

She paused midfold. “Please.” Her gaze darted to the bathroom doorway. “We need to go.”

“Can we talk first?”

She shook her head. A ribbon of tears unwound over her cheek.

“Joy.” He approached her. She held up her hand. He stopped.

“Please, don’t.” Her voice broke.

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