other. During spring, that field has so many dandelions that people could make a hundred wishes a day, and there would be a million more flowers to grow in its place.
Mime makes another disgruntled noise and points to the right, to the motels that are a bit run down but aren’t horrible, so I won’t bring them up to Ryan.
Yet.
The truck dips as we drive down the dirt road. There’s a large puddle in the middle up ahead, and Mime and I share a glance before I floor it. Murky orange water sprays along the truck’s sides and covers the windshield before I flip the wipers on. The mud drips off the side mirror in thick globs, and for some reason, that makes me feel way more manly than it should.
“Imagine Prez’s face when we bring the truck back filthy.”
My baby brother holds out his fist, and I pound it with my knuckles.
I stop in front of a simple motel and stare at it through the sprinkle of rain. The outside isn’t new, but it’s taken care of the best way it can be without having someone renovate it. There are trimmed bushes along the front and water-logged pink flowers. The window trim is painted a dark brown while the siding is tan with a few dirty spots, but nothing the rain won’t eventually wash away.
There’s only one car parked here, and it’s a piece of crap Nissan with duct tape on the gas cap.
Oh, fuck no.
“Stay here. I’ll hopefully be back in a minute.”
Mime gives me a curt nod and presses his finger against the automatic button on the side of his seat so he can lean back and relax.
“Just a regular fucking day for you, huh?” I tease. He gives me the bird without turning his head to look at me, which makes me laugh. I slam the door and run under the awning to get out from under the rain. I tug the lapels of my jacket a few times to get the water off the leather, then stomp my boots on the walkway to get most of the mud off.
I take a deep breath and cough, then a rumble of irritation knots in my chest. I hate being weakened when I know how strong I am and how strong I can be.
What was his room number again? 1B? I don’t even have to go up the steps, which is a problem because this is a flooding hazard. I know he’s only here for a little bit, but did he do any research on this place? It’s only making my argument for him to come back with me stronger.
He’ll listen.
I’ll be crushed if I can’t get him to spend any time with me. How much I like him… I haven’t liked anyone like this in a while. I need him to like me back. This might be new to me, but my soul has recognized his as old, something that’s stood the test of time.
Maybe I knew him in another life if that’s the case.
If it is, it means his soul is my home.
And who am I question the universe?
I walk deeper into the corridor and come to the brown-painted door with a silver number and letter plate that says 1B. There’s a brown, coarse mat under my filthy boots that says, ‘Welcome Rainbows,’ and I can’t help but smile.
If that’s not a sign, what is?
I lift my fist and knock on the door, then take a step back so he can see me through the peephole.
Shit, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. What if he has to go to work? It makes sense; we’re all on call for the storm.
The chain slides, rattles, and the knob clicks, then turn. I have the goofiest smile on my face because I’m excited to see the guy that’s made me this new person in a matter of three days. And it slips off as soon as I see his face as the door widens enough.
He has a black eye and a busted lip, tears running down his face, and he doesn’t even question why I’m here. Instead, Ryan launches himself at me, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. He sobs into my shoulder, and I bury the rage down to only focus on Ryan. I need to know who hurt my boy. I won’t fucking stand for it.
He’s a small guy, maybe 5’4 and 140 pounds soaking wet to my 6’3, 220 pounds.