Page 46 of Come Apart
Chapter Six
When I reach San Diego, I drive to the cheapest hotel in the area.
I have the money to stay someplace nice, but I'd rather this trip not feel nice in any way. I'd rather solve this problem and get back to my life with Alyssa.
The room is an ugly shade of beige, but it's not altogether unpleasant. It has everything I need—a bed, a TV, a shower, curtains to block out the obscenely bright sun.
The hot water of the shower feels perfect against my skin. It would be so much nicer to have Alyssa in here with me, to press her against the tile wall and slide my hand between her legs, feel how slick she is. To run my lips over the wet skin on her neck, to watch her bite her teeth and arch her back, to hear a perfect, soft moan escape her lips.
But I'm not here to have a good time.
Shit.
I force my mind away from Alyssa.
It takes some doing, but my cock finally figures out nothing is happening.
I rough dry myself and finally leave the shower for the room.
As soon as I'm ready, I head over to the hospital.
It's quiet here. The air is stale. There's something horribly uncomfortable about it, but I push it to the back of my mind.
Samantha's room is around a corner and down a hallway. I knock on the door briefly and enter.
She's sitting on the hospital bed, a cardigan over her paper gown.
Her features look hard and tired. Her brown eyes seem dull. Her long, brown hair is in a messy ponytail. Even her glasses seem old and faded.
It's difficult to see.
"Hey," I say in a low voice.
She looks at me like I'm an idiot. "I was expecting something more dramatic."
I know it's defensive.
"I'd say maybe next time, but I'm hoping there isn't a next time."
She shifts in her hospital bed. Looks at the curtain next to her, shaking her head. "This isn't a repeat, Luke." She looks back at me. "I wasn't trying to... I was prescribed a new anti-anxiety med."
"What happened?" I prod when nothing else is forthcoming.
Is she lying?
I want to believe her. "Do you know you're not supposed to mix that stuff with alcohol?" She sighs. "I took one before eating. After a few glasses of wine at dinner, I wasn't thinking all that clearly." She frowns, her fingers picking at the sterile white blanket. "I got into bed, but my mind was still racing. I couldn't turn it off, you know? So I took another. But I still couldn't stop thinking, couldn't get to sleep. So I took another...Too much wine and too many prescription pills." She gives me as sardonic smile. "A stupid mistake. I woke up in an ambulance. The housekeeper found me and called 9-1-1 when she couldn't wake me up."
I know the easy delivery is to distance herself from what happened.
Was it an accident, like she's trying to convince me it was?
"Samantha..."Her eyes pass over me like she's studying me. "Sit down. You're making me uncomfortable."
I sit in one of the ugly green chairs. "Does this really make you more comfortable?"
She sighs and folds her arms. Her voice is rough and irritated. "You must feel so embarrassed in a shit hospital gown, no makeup, no access to even a hairbrush. And then your ex hauls ass to come and rescue you. Very embarrassing for you.” Why does she always try to chase me away before she begs me to stay?
"I’m here because I want to be here," I say. "And I don't give a fuck what you look like."
