Chapter 38 - Is There a Lock? [https://cdn.midjourney.com/84181c16-7047-40db-81f5-cd90f47deeeb/0_2.png]
The three of them made their way into the dreary hotel room. Kennedy asked her Mom, “Is your hip hurting? Do you need to lie down?”
Pale as milk, her mother eased herself onto the edge of the bed. “My memories are the part that is hurting the worst.” She shuddered. “Being here feels like a bad dream. I thought I had put this part of my life behind me.”
Neat and tidy, as was her nature, Nan rolled her suitcase into the open closet. Nose crinkling, she claimed a hotel towel, snapped it open, and placed it on top of the questionable comforter. Trying to touch as little of the bed as possible, she sat down. “Is this the only hotel available?”
Her Mom and she answered at exactly the same time. “Yes.” They shared a small awkward glance and a brief smile.
Because there was more to do, Kennedy left the two older women to rest. There were cats to smuggle past the office window waiting in the shade of a bent long needle pine.
*
Arms full of complaining cat, Kennedy returned to the room with the last carrier and found her Mom and Nana arguing about animal logistics.
Kennedy placed Mr. Pibble’s cage next to her mother. Surrounded by her furry companions, her mom argued, “They are used to their freedom. It’s cruel to keep them in the kennel all the time. Only a monster would want them cooped up.”
Unswayed, Nana countered. “I do not want cats climbing all over me. It’s unsanitary.”
“How can you say that? My cats are clean.”
Unwilling to take a side, Kennedy stepped into the hall and tipped her phone up, trying to catch a bit of the inconsistent cell service.
“I was glad to see a message from you. Is the new moon bringing you home?” - Terry.
At least he hadn’t told her to fuck off. That was something. She thought about what her mother had said about the wild ones pulling trains in public down town. Did he see her like that? She wanted to talk to Terry. If she was honest with herself, she wanted to see him again, smell his skin. When she thought of his smile, her body prickled with longing.
When she texted him back, “I’d like to see you,” his response was immediate.
“Walk across the street.” - Terry
*
Kennedy walked to the glass doors and barked out a laugh. There he was, across the street, drinking a coffee, sitting in his usual spot at the diner. She looked back toward their hotel room. They would do fine without her. They could argue about cats without her presence. The amount of peaceable conversation they’d had during the drive here had doubled the grand total of civil conversation her Mother and Nana had ever had.
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Across the street, Terry lifted his coffee cup and pointed to it. The temptation was irresistible. There had been so much stress and confusion since she left, that she hadn’t had time to unpack her attraction to him. Her purse was in the hotel room. Fuck it. When she pushed on the handle, the door swung outward, and she headed toward the diner.
When she slid into the booth across from him, he said nothing, just took another sip of his coffee. A young waitress headed their way, already bringing another cup and a hot pot of java.
Kennedy felt sheepish as she glanced at the waitress. “Can I get a decaf?”
“Sure, doll.” She set down an empty cup and filled Terry’s with the leaded stuff.
Terry smiled at her and reached across the table. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and her heart rate increased as she looked down at his open palm. When she put her hand in his, warmth enfolded her fingers as he claimed her hand. Her body surged with interest and she could hardly look at him.
“I’m sorry I ghosted you.” She gently turned her hand inside the shelter of his. They fit together so easily. “You’re not mad?”
He shook his head no.
“I didn’t answer any of your texts.”
When he gave a shrug, she relaxed into the booth, happy to have her hand in his. His touch and presence made her feel better. Taking a deep breath, she let out the first real exhale she had had in a week. The waitress returned and didn’t say a thing besides a slight arching of her brow. She winked at Kennedy when she poured her cup full.
Terry rubbed his thumb against the back of her hand. “Okay?” His speech was clearer than it had once been, but he still didn’t seem to be very fond of using his voice.
In a rush she felt like she might cry, the blur of the last month catching up with her and she gripped his hand. She shook her head no and pulled out her phone. When she showed him a picture of her eating Sandy’s couch, he snorted a half laugh.
“I should have taken a picture of what I did in the kitchen. Terry, the mess was awful.”
In response, he squeezed her fingers and pushed the phone back toward her.
“It happened in my sleep.”
Brow furrowed, he lifted her hand to his face and sniffed her wrist. Shock registered on his face as he stared at her, vulnerable.
“Is that normal, Terry? Just changing out of the blue like that?” She reached out her free hand and slid her fingertips along his cheek. His beard was close-clipped and soft.
Leaning into her touch, he hesitated before he spoke, voice low and slow coming. “No.” Watching her face, he pressed a kiss to her palm and a shiver shot down her arm. As goosebumps rose across her skin, she awkwardly swallowed. What was it about this man? She hadn’t seen him in a month, and just a glance from those beautiful blue eyes and she was wishing she could drop her panties right in this booth. His smile turned wicked, and he gently bit the side of her hand.
Heat rushed into her cheeks as she whispered, “Do they have a lock on the bathroom?”
With a chuckle, he nodded. Like guilty little kids, they headed to the back of the mostly empty restaurant. When she hesitated between the girls and guys, he reached around her and opened the door to the single-stall men’s room. She felt a flush of the forbidden. Kennedy had only been in a men’s restroom once and that had been at a concert. She and two friends decided they couldn’t wait in line for the women’s bathroom and barged into the men’s room like a barbarian hoard. Her friend Carol had lifted her skirt, shifted her panties, and, with her hips pressed forward, peed right in a urinal. Kennedy had been impressed. Herself, she’d chosen a stall with no door on it. Their laughter had rung on the tile walls.
The diner bathroom was dated, but clean. Terry’s solid arms came around her as he locked the door. Rumbling her name, he drew her to him. When she tilted her face upward, his mouth came down upon hers in a hungry kiss. Flushed with need, she wound her arms around him and gave in to her hunger. As his wide hands slid tenderly to her hips and gathered her skirt, he dragged the fabric upward. When Kennedy slid one knee up along his thigh, he claimed her leg with a meaty hand and she found herself seated on the sink, with her legs wrapped around his wide, powerful body.