Page 32 of Not Another Yesterday
Instead of heading back into the room, I decide to find a place to grab some breakfast for Miranda. I stop first at a gas station, fill up my tank, then grab a toothbrush and a touristyTennessee—the VolunteerStatehoodie for Miranda. That girl needs some clothes, but I’m not comfortable picking out anything but a sweater. It takes me a few minutes to find a decent-looking coffee shop where I stop and order some breakfast for takeout along with some coffee for Miranda. I’m still not a coffee drinker, and I don’t think I ever will be. It’s fucking disgusting to me, though Cat swears by it. I just make a face whenever she offers me her cup, which makes her giggle every time. Man, it’s only been forty hours since I’ve seen her, but already my entire being yearns for her.
It’s weird how fast I can flip between feeling responsible for someone else’s survival and craving the touch of the one girl who makes me feel like being in her orbit is the only thing that keeps my bullshit from swallowing me whole. As always, I send her a quick text.
Me:
Morning, baby. I have a plan on how to help Randi. I just hope she agrees to go for it. Fingers crossed that she does, and I should be home by tomorrow night. I love you so damn much. Miss your perfect face. And body…
***
When I get back to the motel, Miranda’s up and the bathroom door is closed—clearly, she’s in there. So I walk to the round brown table and set the coffee cup down, then take the food out of the plastic bag.
A moment later, the bathroom door unlocks. “Holy shit,” Miranda squeals. I turn my head in her direction just as she quickly whirls around, turning her back to me. She’s completely naked and I catch a glimpse of the familiar, dainty tattoo of scripture that stretches the length of her spine from her neck down to her tailbone before my head is turned resolutely in the other direction. “Fuck, I didn’t hearyou come back,” Miranda grumbles and hastily grabs her clothes from the bed.
“Sorry Randi, but didn’t you expect me to come back at all? Why the fuck would you walk out of the bathroom naked?” I ask her through gritted teeth.
“I figured I’d hear you. I forget how fucking quiet you always are,” she mutters. I hear her slip into her clothes.
The flash of her tattoo—the same one I used to trace with my fingertips—burns behind my eyes, even after I slam them shut. I turn my back to her like it might erase the image. But it doesn’t. I hate how easily memory slips past defenses. “Yeah, well, it’s a habit I formed when I realized being noisy around my mother would result in pain,” I growl. “I’ll try to make more of a fucking ruckus next time.”
“Okay, you’re safe now,” she says with a laugh. “No more sexy naked babes.”
I open my eyes and turn to her. “Maybe next time just take your damn clothes into the bathroom with you. Just a suggestion,” I say, the crease still deep on my brow. “I brought you breakfast.” I nod toward the food on the table. “And a toothbrush and a hoodie.”
“Aww, thank you Rony,” she says, her voice much less tired-sounding than yesterday. “Is that where you went? To get me breakfast, a toothbrush, and a sweater?” She opens the small paper bag, pulls out the croissant, and inspects it briefly before taking a large bite.
“Partially.” I sit down on the creaky bed. “I came up with a plan.”
She stops chewing. “Oh, yeah?” she asks, her mouth full. “Care to share it with me?”
“So, I spoke to my grandmother earlier,” I start. Miranda’s eyes widen. “I told her what happened, and she said she’d be happy to have you.” At this, Miranda’s brow furrows, but I don’t give her the chance to argue. “It’s not a handout, Randi. You’d be working on the ranch, just like last time. You’d stay in the same cabin. You’d earn your keep. I think it’s the best option to give you the chance to start over, get your feet back underneath you, save up some money and figure out yournext steps. You’ll have my truck available to drive around while you’re there. You’d have a place to stay, you’d have work, you could even check in on your dad from time to—”
Miranda throws herself into my arms, holding on to me for dear life.
“Rony, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you…” she sobs.
I blink at her. I honestly thought she’d fight me, would protest, would argue about going back to Montana to live on my grandparents’ ranch. This was way easier than I expected. But I’m not complaining.
I pat her back as she buries her face against my neck, her hot tears rolling down my skin. “I wish I could do more, but—”
Miranda pulls away from me, shaking her head. “Are you kidding me? Rony, I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this. You’re incredible,” she says, wiping her tears.
“So I looked, and there’s a flight going from Nashville to Missoula tomorrow morning. It leaves at five. I haven’t booked it yet because I obviously wanted to get your okay first, but if you want to go, I can get it lined up right now.”
More tears escape Miranda’s blue eyes. “Okay.”
I smile. “Alright, go eat.”
She sits down to eat her breakfast while I take care of the details, then call my grandmother back to give her an update.
“You’re all set,” I tell Miranda after hanging up the phone. “I figure we’ll check out of this fucking dump and then just head to Nashville. I reserved a hotel room by the airport for the night. We’ll get you some essentials today—you obviously need some clothes and a bag, and probably a phone.”
Miranda shakes her head at me, her eyes full of emotion.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re such a good guy, Rony,” she says. “You always were, but really, you’re amazing. I wish…”
I raise my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to continue.
