Eliza Jane: Tempted

We climb inside the car and I throw it in reserve and slam on the gas, pining us both against the seats and kicking up gravel in my wake. I hand my phone to Colt and he calls Reis to tell him we’re safe and on our way.

Neither of us speak until we’re about fifteen minutes down the highway.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he whispers, turning toward me. His words stab at my heart. He doesn’t want me here. But then he brings his hand to my jaw line and brushes my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. “If something would have happened to you…” he doesn’t finish, but the agony in his voice does wonders to mend the ache in my chest.

Tears blur my vision and double my efforts to focus on the highway, while Colt continues to wrap his fingers around the curls of my hair. He scoots closer and wipes at a tear rolling down my cheek. “Pull over,” he whispers.

I jerk the car to the right, pulling off the highway at an exit for a rest stop. As soon as I wrench it into park, I clamor across the seat and I’m on top of him. I straddle his lap and sob into his chest. “Shh. Shh. I’m okay.” He rubs my back in gentle circles.

“I was so scared.”

“I know. But it’s okay now. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, still rubbing my back, sweeping my hair off my neck.

I cry harder, for everything I’ve lost, but mostly because I’ve lost him. The physical ache to be near him has haunted me for weeks, and now that he’s so close I let myself fall apart in his arms.

A few minutes later I pull myself together and slide from his lap. He doesn’t try and get me to stay, he doesn’t hold my hand, he just lets me go. He turns to me and smiles and a small grin. It’s sort of a sad excuse for a smile, but still it’s something and my heart stirs. “Let me drive,” he says.

Oh . Not what I was expecting, but I nod obediently. I’m in no shape to drive right now.

We switch seats and Colt pulls back onto the highway, heading north.

The minutes tick by in silence. We don’t even play the radio. I alternate between watching the passing scenery, and watching Colt drive. He rests one hand on the wheel and the other on the console between us. His wrists are red and bruised from where the rope cut into him. I want to reach over and touch the marks on his skin, but I don’t. There’s some barrier that’s been drawn between us. He comforted me when I lost it, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven me for cheating.

A few minutes later the sound of his voice startles me from my private thoughts. “I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

I nod. He pulls off the highway and stops at a drive-thru. He orders our food and we eat in silence in the parking lot. Things haven’t felt this tense between us since when we first met and I couldn’t stand him. Maybe it’s because the roles are reserved, and now he can’t stand to be around me, knowing how I betrayed him with Reis. I eat a few bites, then stuff the food back into the bag.

“Why are you driving my dad’s car?”

“He wanted to come for you himself, but I convinced him to let me instead. He agreed, but told me to drive this since it’s faster.”

He nods, please with my answer.

When Colt’s done eating, he wipes his hands on a napkin and turns to me. “We should probably put a little more distance between us and them, and then stop for the night. I’m beat.”

I do little more than nod, unsure if the mere sound of his voice will set me off crying again.

Once we’re inside the hotel room, Colt sits on the edge of the bed and places his head in his hands. I stand uselessly in the center of the room, unsure what to do. I’ve never seen him so distressed. When I sling my backpack into the chair across the room, he looks up, startled. His posture is stiff, and his eyes dart to mine. An unknown force wills me closer, and before I even realized I’d moved, I’m standing directly in front of him. He place his hands on the backs of my legs, tugging me a little closer. I step in toward him and his hands slid up to grip the backs of my knees, which is good because my legs are feeling shaky all of a sudden.

Standing this close I see the dark rings under his eyes. I press a fingertip to the purplish skin. “You look like shit.”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Sorry. You scared me half to death.”

“I’m okay now.”

We stand like that for a few seconds and my heartbeat builds. I want him to pull me down to him, to kiss me, to tell me everything’s going to be okay now, but he does none of those things.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says. He drops his hands from my legs.

I stumble back a step at the absence of his warm hands before righting myself and steeling my nerves. “Do you need anything? I could go to the store.” When we pulled into the hotel there was one of those big box stores right across the street.

He pulls off his T-shirt and brings it to his nose, inhaling it. “Some clean clothes would be great.” He grins.

I smile. “You got it.”

When I come back from the store with three big bags, Colt’s lying on the bed with just a white towel wrapped around his hips. He sits up when I come in.

I dump the bags onto the bed, trying not to look at his bare chest, which still has the power to funny things to my stomach.

He rummages through the items as they land on the bed. A tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, bottled water, socks, a package of boxer briefs, a couple of T-shirts and a pair of jeans. I had to guess on all the sizes, but I’d liked shopping for him. Like in some small way I was taking care of him, putting this right again.

“The third bag has food so we won’t have to go out again later.”

He nods, and takes the clothes and toothbrush into the bathroom.

A few minutes later he reemerges, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans. He’s clean, but he still doesn’t look well. His skin is dull and I can still see the shadows beneath his eyes.

Colt

Taylor stands in the center of the room, like she’s unsure what to do around me. I still can’t believe she came to my rescue today. It seems surreal everything that’s happened in the last forty-eight hours.

It was supposed to be a simple case. Cut and dry. I’d driven to that warehouse to see what they were using the building for. I’d snapped a few photos when before I knew it, I was being pulled from the rental car by my collar at gun point. The next two days were spent strapped to a chair, suffering repeated hits to my face and body as they tried to get me to tell them who I was working for. I never said a word. Thank God Taylor found me when she did. I hate to think what could have happened.

“You should lie down,” she says, fumbling with the comforter, pulling the covers down for me. I climb in bed and am asleep almost instantly.

I wake up several hours later. The flashing of the TV is the only light in the room. I roll over and see the bed next to me is empty. Where’s Taylor? I glance at the clock, it’s just after midnight. I run my hands over my face and sit up. I’ve been sleeping for a few hours, but I don’t feel rested. I hear a muffled cry from the bathroom. I sit up in bed. The bathroom door is closed and light pours from the crack at the bottom.

I get out of bed and walk the few paces to the bathroom. But now that I’m standing here, I don’t know what to do. A soft sob wracks her throat. It tugs at my heart. Why is she crying?

I tap softly at the door.

The sounds of crying instantly stop. She sniffles. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“It’s okay. Take your time,” I say softly.

“Do you need to use the bathroom?” she whispers back.

“No. I just wanted to check on you.”