Page 56 of Forever By Morning

Ambushed

I’d escaped up the stairs to my room at the Lodge before anyone had spotted me. The idea of hiding in my room until next week was tempting.

Room service was excellent at Laverne Ronson’s establishment. But I knew sooner or later someone would find me.

While the shower wasn’t quite as luxurious as Beckett’s place—or his mother’s—it did the trick. And okay, maybe I’d shed a few tears while my face had been turned up to the spray.

I was entitled.

Somehow I had to find a way not to feel like an open wound before I left.

Surrounded by my arsenal of beauty care, I carefully shored up my walls once more, layer by layer. From retinol to tinted moisturizer with SPF, the old Helena slowly emerged. The smattering of freckles that had appeared after a day in the sun was now hidden under powder. My bruised and red eyes were a little harder to hide, but sunglasses would do the trick.

I returned to my bedroom. Sunlight streaked over my freshly made bed and open suitcase. I pulled out a tailored pair of linen pants and set them beside the rumpled jeans. I shook out the jeans and carefully folded them, repeating the process with the T-shirt.

I would send them out for laundering and hope that Laverne could get them back to Beckett’s sister. Not that Zoe would probably notice if I took them home.

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “You’re not taking them home to moon over Beckett. That’s pathetic.”

I shut my eyes.

“And now I’m talking to myself. Great.”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I strode through my bedroom and out to the living room of my suite with the pile of clothes. I shoved the clothes in one of the laundry bags on the desk near the window and scribbled a note on the cleaning instructions tag.

“I’ll take that with me.”

I screeched and whirled around toward the voice, my towel dropping precariously before I grabbed onto the corner.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Laverne sat in one of the club chairs with a mug in her hands. A tray sat in front of her with pastries and a carafe of what I could only hope was coffee.

I jerked up my towel. “Um, why are you in my room?”

“I had a feeling you were going to try and skip town.” She calmly sipped from her mug. “Didn’t we, Rachel?”

“Dear God.” My gaze crashed into Rachel’s huge blue eyes.

She wiggled her fingers in a little wave. She also had a mug in her hand and took a long gulp. “We just wanted to check on you. You left without telling anyone. We were worried. And I figured you needed coffee.” Her gaze flicked down to my towel. “We can wait for you to get dressed though.”

“Um, yes. Dressed would be good.” I stumbled back a step and into the desk. “This is…I’m just going to go back—” I bolted for the bedroom door and slammed it shut before I collapsed against it.

Seriously? Did this family believe in personal space at all?

A memory of Beckett scooping me up and hauling me into his childhood home said that was a no. Maybe it was a family trait.

I caught myself clenching my fingers at my sides and forced myself to relax. They were probably just worried about me. Which was still a novel thing to me. No one had worried about what I was feeling in so long.

My stomach twisted.

Sure, let’s continue to feel sorry for ourselves. Perfect.

I stuffed my travel kit into my bag and crunched a silk T-shirt. The urge to unpack my travel steamer almost overrode my need for a quick change. After wearing borrowed clothes from over ten years ago, a little wrinkle in my shirt wouldn’t matter, dammit.

I quickly donned a comfortable bralette and still felt hemmed in after being naked or sans bra for a full day. I’d never gone a day without a bra in my life and now I wanted to slingshot the stupid thing out the window.

What was going on with me?

I finished dressing, clipped up my still damp hair, then stepped into my trusty ballet flats before returning to the living room. It was the best version of armor I had right now.