Caching In (26 page)

As though my body were drawn to his, like two broken pieces mending together, I stepped slowly toward him. How badly I wanted to run, jump into his arms, and get down and dirty with him! But, no, this wasn’t
just
sex. Not with Seth. We waited months for this, and each second deserved our undivided attention. Every single minute needed to count. These moments can pass by so fast, when the best thing is to allow yourself to absorb them. I wanted to feel every inch of his body, touch every inch of his skin with my fingers, my mouth, my entire body. I didn’t want to miss a thing.

When I stood before him, he cocked his head, and his eyes traced the outline of my body. Desire filled his eyes when he placed his hands on my cheeks, and came in for a kiss. He separated from me and took his shirt off, too. I placed my hand on his chest. His heart beat rapidly, yet he appeared so calm. He put his hands on my shoulders, massaging them before running them down my back, unhooking my bra, and pulling one strap off at a time. My bra hit the floor, and I stood there, exposed, anxious, and waiting for him to touch me in ways he never had before. When he pulled me against his body, my breasts pressed against his, and my fingers moved along his muscles like a potter memorizing her clay. I recalled the first time I saw him in his tee shirt, and how badly I wanted to grab a hold of his arms, and now it was happening. Hands wandered everywhere as the heat between us intensified.

The next thing I knew, we both fell onto the bed, entwined in each other’s bodies as our tongues danced rhythmically. Seth laid on top of me, the weight of his groin pulsating on mine, and while I wanted this moment to be frozen in time, I couldn’t wait for us to be together. Finally.

The next song began playing, and Seth slowly softened his kiss. Butterflies swirled around my stomach as he ran his finger down my face and neck. A gasp sneaked out when he kissed my neck again.

“Ready for this?” He asked me.

I forgot how to breathe for a moment, before answering, “I’ve been ready.”

----------

In the morning, I welcomed the filtered sunshine into the room. I rolled over and opened my eyes, pleased the only hangover I nursed was one of love. We made love twice the night before and fell asleep in each other’s arms. The dreams that filled my sleeping hours comforted me. I envisioned our future together, holding hands, living together, getting married. Make no mistake about it, I knew exactly what I wanted. After last night, I didn’t doubt he wanted the same.

Checkout was at eleven, and a glance at the clock on the nightstand showed almost ten. We had to get a move on if we planned on getting on the road soon. He sure exhausted me. I always got up before seven, and on Sundays, much earlier to visit my dad. I’d ask Seth to stop at the cemetery on the way home, sure he wouldn’t mind.

I turned on to my back, outstretching my arms, my right arm hitting the empty space next to me. Huh? I shot up in bed, and confirmed Seth wasn’t next to me. His sheets were bundled in a mess, obvious he slept there the night before. Considering checkout time neared, he must have been in the shower. Shower sex? Heck, yeah. I tossed my sheets off and let my feet hit the floor. A yawn escaped before I got up to surprise him.

Except the bathroom door stood wide open. The shower remained silent. He was nowhere to be found.

I sucked in air as a gasp, or cry, not sure which came first, left my mouth. I glanced around the room, my eyes shooting to every space as though he were playing hide and seek. I raced to my suitcase, and grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank to put on. Maybe he went to get us something to eat. A night filled with sex could work up anyone’s appetite. He’d be back in ten minutes probably. My phone buzzed on the night stand. Oh! That was probably Seth, not sure of what kind of donut I preferred - raspberry filled, for the record. Chelsea’s name popped up in a text. I grabbed my phone, which sat atop a piece of
Holiday Inn
stationary. The words
I’m sorry
and
too soon
and
can’t
caught my attention. I fell onto the bed as the closing made its way into my vision:
Forgive me, Seth.

----------

“Fuck you!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, not caring about the thin walls and if anyone else heard me. Tears spilled out of my eyes, crashed onto my legs and drained my body. The tears didn’t allow me to read the whole letter, the stupid, cowardly words he scribbled onto hotel stationary before ditching me. The crumpled letter rested at my feet, my happiness lost in black ink and a fear of moving forward.

How the hell did he expect me to get home? Chelsea took my car. Seth was my ride! Even if he dumped me, would he be so cruel as to leave me without a way to get home? I’d have to call Chelsea to drive all the way back to Wisconsin Dells. I still held my phone in my hand. I ran my hand across my eyes to dry them, and went to unlock my phone. On the lock screen sat a text notification from Chelsea; the one I hadn’t read yet. Seth called her and she contacted my mom to pick me up because she couldn’t.

Shit. On the positive side, Seth wasn’t a total dick for leaving me to fend for myself. At least he thought enough to call Chelsea. Anyone. The downside? A long car ride with my mother. Oh God, I hoped I didn’t have to listen to her go on and on about her boyfriend Paul. I loathed the details on a regular day, much less the day I got dumped. I needed to get out of the hotel. Since my mom didn’t have a cell phone for me to text her, I left a note at the front desk that I expected to return by checkout time.

I didn’t bother to shower. Who the hell did I need to impress? I slipped on my running shoes and into the muggy air. And I ran. And ran. And I kept on running, through the streets of the Dells, narrowly avoiding tourists, into the woods, branches and leaves pelting my arms, long grass scratching at my feet. I circled a small river, over a bridge, until I found myself back on the main street. I needed water. The nearest store was a T-Shirt shop, which probably had a chest of water bottles at the registers. Most places did. I walked in, barely able to catch my breath. I leaned against some shirts hanging on the wall.

“Excuse me, Miss?” A girl not more than nineteen approached me. “Please don’t lean against the shirts.”

I moved away from them. “Sorry.” Turning around, the display was filled with nothing but “Keep Calm And” fill in the blank with anything you could think of. I was sick to hell of those shirts. Keep calm. There wasn’t any keeping calm anymore. I reached my boiling point. I managed to keep myself from yanking my hair out of my head. I needed to get home, back to my life. Even though I was jobless, I still had Chelsea. I could help her with the baby. Maybe she would even hire me to be her nanny! Okay, a little insane, but, still, I didn’t want to
stay calm
.

I followed her back to the counter, where, as I guessed, a small refrigerator with select sodas and bottled waters sat next to the register. I grabbed one out of the sliding door and placed it on the counter. Then I realized, I left my wallet at the hotel. “Any chance I could take this and come back and pay you? I forgot my wallet.”

“Can’t do that, sorry.”

I glanced at her name tag. Ashleigh. Why did people spell their names so screwy? It’s A-S-H-L-E-Y. I was sure her entire life she’d been correcting people about how to spell it. Poor girl. “Look, I just ran like, I don’t know how many miles, and I’m dehydrated.”

She opened up a magazine and started flipping through it. “Not my problem.”

Hell. No. She picked the wrong day to mess with me. I grabbed the magazine and tossed it aside. “Excuse me,
Ashleigh
. I live over an hour away from here, my boyfriend literally just dumped me,
and
I lost my job a few weeks ago. I really don’t have time for your shit. I’m staying at the Holiday Inn. I’ll even give you my room number.”

Teenage girl who spells her name like a porn star smiled at me. “Sucks to be you,” she laughed. “If you go down about two blocks to the Visitor’s Booth, there’s a water fountain there. You can get free water there.”

What a bitch. But in the end, at least a (somewhat) helpful one. I rolled my eyes as I turned to walk away, in search of this water fountain, hydration, and how to heal a broken heart.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Almost two hours later, all my tears dried up and very hungry, I opened the door to my mom’s car. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“You’re my daughter.” She started driving as soon as I buckled my seatbelt. “Of course I’m going to pick you up.”

“It’s Sunday. What about church?” My mom wouldn’t miss church for anything. The one consistency she held in her life was her Sunday mornings, just as me with my dad. And now, because of my shitty weekend, I missed my morning visit with my dad.
My
church. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll go on Thursday.”

I tugged at my shoulder strap. “Can we
please
stop and get some food? I need to eat.”

“Of course. We can go through a drive-thru, then let’s get you home.”

On any given day, I avoided fast food. I never understood how people stuffed their bodies with such unhealthy food all for the price of convenience. Today, though, convenience won as my emotions got the best of me. I settled on a parfait (at least fruit coated the bottom), and scarfed it down, scraping the bottom of the container for every last bit. My next workout promised to be extra tough to burn those calories.

“What exactly happened, Ally? Chelsea didn’t get all the details. She said Seth called and told her you needed a ride. I guess he sounded pretty shaken up.”

I burst out in a laugh, almost a cackle. “Yeah. Right.
He
was shaken up?” I so didn’t want to have this conversation with my mother.
Mom, he screwed me and left the next morning. Hi, it’s me, your one-night stand daughter.
Ugh. How did I put this tactfully? “We had a fight before I came here with Chelsea. He came up here and took me geocaching near Madison. He showed me the one he placed in honor of his deceased daughter.”

“Wow.” Her eyebrows raised and her grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No wonder he’s shaken up.”

Fine, I could see her taking his side at that, but, as usual, she didn’t let me finish. “He spent the night, obviously.” She could read between the lines for the details on that. “And when I woke up in the morning, he was gone.”

“He up and left without saying goodbye?”

“He left a note.”

“That’s better, I guess.” She shrugged as she pulled onto the expressway.

“Better? Better than making me fall in love with him and then leaving because he’s a coward?”

“Whoa,” she lifted her hand to calm me. “At least he left a reason for leaving. And why he left, well, it had nothing to do with you.”

“It had
everything
to do with me. The night before was amazing, and the very next morning he took off. How can it
not
be me? That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Ally. You’re not a parent. You can’t fathom losing a child. It’s one of the hardest things to face in life.”

Why did she side with him? He lost Willow, and struggled to maintain life after. I
got
that. Years had passed, so why hadn’t he reached the stage of acceptance yet? Why did he allow fear to control his life? “You don’t know either, Mom. Perry and I are still around.”

Ha! No reply to that one. I crossed my arms, pissed she couldn’t see my side of things. This guy left her daughter stranded. He took advantage and took off. Didn’t that deserve sympathy? Exhaustion took over my body and I wanted nothing more than to lay my seat back and stare out the window until I fell asleep.

“I miscarried once.”

My mom’s words shot through the silence like an unexpected firework. My gaze out the window shifted to a gaping mouth open at my mom, at this secret she held from me so many years. “What? When?”

“Before both you and Perry were born. My first.”

“I had no idea.” Why hadn’t she shared this with me? My mom and I’s relationship wasn’t like me and my dad’s, but this information wasn’t something to keep from me and Perry. Upon realizing I could have had another big brother or sister, my heart collapsed, and I wanted nothing more than to hug her.

“I was twenty. Your dad and I were married a year and wanted to try and get pregnant after our first anniversary. We succeeded right away. I’m a fertile one.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, it still grossed me out to hear my mom refer to herself as fertile. “What happened? Why did you miscarry?”

“I don’t know. I woke up Christmas morning, excited to reveal the news to your grandparents. I started getting cramps while we were getting ready to go to their house, and they kept getting worse. Finally, I toppled over in so much pain, your dad took me to the emergency room. I was about eleven weeks.”

My mom always seemed so strong to me. I couldn’t even imagine her dealing with such pain and going on to have more children. If she would have delivered a healthy baby, would Perry or I even exist? “I’m sorry, mom. How did you get over it?”

“Over it?” She scoffed at me. “I’m not over it. I’ve accepted it. It took awhile for us to move on together. I remember some days your father and I didn’t even speak a word to each other.”