Worth Any Risk

Ch. 3 To Go or To Run

*Jordan

What am I doing? What the hell am I doing here? If anyone sees me, it's all over. All my hopes, all these years I've spent proving to this goddamn town that I'm a good person. I hate it, playing the victim when I am the victim, trying to endlessly convince them it's the truth.

I take the steering wheel, gripping it hard it to keep my hands from shaking. I'm at the back of the Forest Path Inn, barely a glorified motel from a better time, when tourists rolled in on a regular basis on their way south to California or wherever tourists used to go.

There's a trash bin and another car, probably belonging to an employee, in the small space behind the motel and the forest it's named for.

Room twenty. All I have to do is get out of the car and walk to room twenty. Then have sex.

I'm trembling and I hate myself for showing this weakness. I haven't had sex since before Trey left. The last time was when he threw me on the bed, yelling that I was a bitch. Did that even count?

What should I do? I know what Sharon would say. I know what she would do, too. But me. What the hell should I do?

I let go of the steering wheel. For starters, I will get out of the car and walk around to the front of the building. If the coast is clear, then I'll decide if I go up or not.

Now. I can do this.

Still shaking, I crawl out of my car and ease the door closed quietly. No use in drawing attention to myself.

Too bad I don't have a hat. Even though the sky is a dark purple with the beginning of night, I put on my large sunglasses and walk confidently all the way to the side of the building. Unable to drop old habits, I pause at the corner to check the parking lot and the road that runs past the motel. This is the same road I take going back and forth to work near the city. Where my sweet babies come to get some extra attention and creative play time with me and each other.

This career is something I have made for myself, meaningful work that I fought hard to do, putting myself through college for the degree. I'm not the useless slut Trey accused me of being. Meeting up with Cole in his room for sex doesn't make a slut, either, women are allowed to enjoy casual hookups.

Right. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you'll start to believe. Maybe you'll believe in unicorn-kittens that fly on rainbows, too.

I shake my head to get my thoughts back to the present.

There are two cars in the parking lot, both from out of state. One of them must be Cole's—my guess is the gorgeously maintained Corvette with California plates. Traffic is light on the road this late in the evening, so it's now or never.

But I can't make my feet go up the stairs to the second floor. Anyone could drive by and notice me. I lean against the bricks, face to the back of the building.

God, I had such a crush on him when I was a teenager. The dark haired, scowling boy who I know was torn up inside, but hid it to the whole world. I loved him. Madly. Stupidly. I would stay up at night, flipping in my bed, sweaty and nervous. I'd imagine every scenario and conversation I might have if I was brave enough to talk to him. At the cafeteria, outside in the morning, on the way home after school, if I bumped into him at a game. There were so many things I could have said, but never did.

What if I've ruined my chances? What if I was meant to talk to him back then, and since I didn't, it was too late now? Of course, he invited me to his room, but what if it was too late somehow to make a connection? To steal a moment of bliss that I shouldn't try to take? I was going to be punished for this—just as I was punished every time in my life when I overreached for what I wanted.