Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,34

he bends down and lifts up the bottom latch, making me feel like an idiot. He pushes open the door into the cool night air.

I glance back before leaving. The bar looks like a war zone. Toppled tables, broken glass, and Victor’s blood is everywhere. Stains from every step Rich had taken make dark red spots on the floor.

I shudder. Somehow, despite going through all that, I made it out all right.

Chapter Six

We drive for hours. Rich doesn’t say where we’re going, and I don’t ask. The whole time, he stares straight ahead, his eyes on the road. The tension in the truck is thick.

I don’t dare move, except to sneak a glance at Rich every once in a while. Every time I do, he seems paler. In spite of everything he’s done, I’m worried about him. The wound in his leg has stopped bleeding, but I can tell by his face that it still pains him. I’m half-afraid he might pass out and veer into the oncoming lane.

He proves resilient, though. Maybe I should expect that of him by now. For better or for worse, I am stuck with him for the foreseeable future.

Finally, he takes an exit off the highway and pulls up to a ramshackle motel on an empty street. Half the letters in the neon “VACANT” sign are dark. The rest flicker on and off like dying fireflies.

Rich doesn’t park out front. Instead, he turns off onto a gravel road and stops his truck out back. He turns the engine off. “We’re here.”

I swallow hard. Rich’s eyes are bloodshot. His face is ghostly-pale. He looks as if he hasn’t slept for a week. “Okay,” I say softly.

He grunts, and staggers out of the cabin. I run around to catch him. He mutters a low thanks, then points to a flight of stairs. I help him all the way up. On the third floor, he stops in front of a green door and unlocks it with a key. He pushes off me to step inside. I follow him through.

The room is a little bigger than the first motel where we had stayed. There’s one queen bed, a brown sofa, and a kitchenette to the side. A balcony overlooking the front road is directly in front of me. The sliding door is open, and a draft of chilly night air blows through the room. I close the door behind me to cut it off.

Rich heads to the kitchen counter. I notice an open bottle of whiskey there, along with a half-filled shot glass. Rich takes the shot, pours more whiskey to the rim, and downs it. He motions at me with the bottle. “You want some?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Suit yourself.” Rich shrugs and pours a third shot. He dips his head back to swallow it whole, setting the glass on the counter with a loud thud. Then he pushes away, clutching at his leg, and painfully limps to the sofa. He collapses and closes his eyes.

Carefully, I pick my way to him. I’m still wary. Instead of sitting beside him, I perch on the edge of the bed. I wait for him to speak.

A good ten minutes pass without either of us saying anything.

I open my mouth… and close it again. Being here with him goes against every safety instinct in my body. Rich had sold me out. He’d drugged me and given me up to Tam and Victor. I still don’t know why.

But, he’d also came back for me. He’d fought Victor for me, too. Rich had flown across the room right when I thought Victor was going to get me. He did it despite his bad leg. He’d tackled the thug to the ground, even though Victor had a knife, even though Victor was stronger, just to save me. It could have all ended horribly for him.

Despite everything he has done to me, I owe him. Sure, maybe I wouldn’t have been in this situation were it not for him, but he had risked his life for me. He’d done it right before my eyes. For that, I could show him a little gratitude.

I have to stay cautious, though. There are so many unanswered questions in my mind. Where did Rich learn to fight? Who did Tam and Victor think I was? Perhaps most important of all: Why did Rich come back for me?

I glance at the car keys Rich had tossed aside on the kitchen table. It would be easy for me to grab