“Thanks.”
She doesn’t respond, resuming to Callie’s car. I think back to Will’s sketchy behavior when I questioned him about his life. How he avoids any conversation regarding his family—his mom. God, is she dead? Will said we can’t hang out tonight because he has to train.
But what if… that’s bullshit?
Maybe if I just went and checked.
The words ooze out of my mouth before Zoey climbs inside Callie’s car.
“Wait.”
She stops, holding the door open.
“Can you text me the address?”
Sitting in my mom’s car with the ultimate creeper shades on, I watch jack shit happen and tap my foot. Been doing it for over an hour now. I showed up here shortly before nine, expecting to see Will sneak into room thirty-five.
No one.
He’s nowhere to be found.
And the weirdest part? I saw a light come on through the room window. At first, I thought he’d gotten there early, but his car isn’t in the lot. I didn’t want to let the thought in—not even for a second—but I have to be realistic. There’s someone in that room. Maybe even a girl.
Waiting for Will with her legs open.
Jesus, I hate that I’m here right now. I hate that instead of confronting him about the picture like a mature, well-balanced girlfriend, I’m holed up in a car, surveilling some shabby motel.
Headlights flash in the distance.
A car pulls into the lot.
I duck, slouching into my mom’s driver seat—I took her car when she passed out early tonight. Mine is still at the shop.
My breath threatens to leave me.
It’s him.
Sticking my head out an inch, I watch as he parks in the spot by the motel room and hurries out of the car, his gym bag drooping off his arm. He really did train tonight. At least, that wasn’t a lie.
He strides to the door, plucking a key out of his pocket. As though he knows he’s being watched, he slows down, analyzing his surroundings. I yelp, dipping once more. By the time I look again, he’s gone inside.
I tell myself to drive home and confront him later. To forget all about Zoey’s texts, but I can’t help doubting everything I thought I knew. It took me ages to get this guy to even consider being in a relationship.
Maybe he just couldn’t take it.
Reverted back to his old ways.
I jerk in surprise when my phone chimes with a text.
Willy Wonka: I miss you so fucking much it should be illegal.
Will.
Argh. A mix of unwanted emotions wash over me. He misses me, he says. Then why is he lying?
Why is he keeping things from me?
I text back.