The Blues of Atlantis | ✔

Chapter Thirteen

The loud blare of an air horn caught his attention. Wade's head snapped up. A semi-truck was set on a collision course with his car. His heart skipped a beat. He cranked the steering wheel, swerving to the right. Nerina's head hit the bony part of his shoulder as she fell sideways.

Groaning, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, rubbing the side of her head. "What the heck just happened?"

Oh nothing major, just a near-miss because of his stupid, idiotic sleep-deprived brain. Pulling over to the side of the road, he reached behind the chair and pulled out his thermos of coffee. "Sorry, babe. I must have dozed off."

"If you tell me where we're going, I could drive."

"No, that's okay. I'm just going to pull into the next hotel we see."

She let out a puff of air, blowing the hair out of her face. "Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Knowing you, you'd probably turn the car around and go back."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Let's keep that tongue for better uses," he said, winking. That earned him, not only a heated glare, but also a swat on the shoulder. She must be feeling a little better. "How's the head?"

"It hurts, but I'll live."

"There's some water in the back if you need something to drink."

"Thanks."

"Your color is coming back a little now." He reached out and softly caressed her rosy cheek with his thumb.

"What happened last night?" She ran her hand along the vehicle's unfamiliar dashboard. "Whose car is this?"

Wade pulled his hand away and placed it back on the steering wheel. "I'm too tired to talk about it now."

Nerina tilted her head and studied him. His mouth opened wide, as he yawned for the fifth time in a row. The dark bags under his blood-shot watery eyes made him look like a raccoon.

A cool draft slightly ruffled the clothes she had on, making her shiver as the air drifted across the skin of her leg. When she glanced down, a blue hospital gown came into view. She ran her hand over the material, trying to remember anything that happened the night before, nothing good by the looks of it.

"Have you developed some weird sorta fetish?" she asked, trying to squelch her rising panic. "

"If I do, you'll be the first to know." One corner of his mouth curled into a slight grin; the other side appeared have no energy to join it, and the humor never reached his droopy eyes.

Their vehicle approached a sign that told them a Super 8 could be found at the next exit in a town called Fruita. Her stomach could definitely do with a break from all the bumping around on the road and Wade needed to sleep before he crashed the car. She didn't exactly want her brains splattered all over the road.

After they parked the car in front of the motel, she opened the door to step outside, but quickly closed it. "Smells like poop."

"Wasn't me."

Nerina rolled her eyes. "Always the comedian." Plugging her nose, she got out of the car, and hurried into the motel. Thankfully they parked close to the entrance. Once inside, she dropped her hand. The aroma of waffles, from the continental breakfast, filled the foyer. Despite being nauseous, her stomach growled.

After they registered, the hotel receptionist handed them the room access cards, and Wade's credit card. "Your room number is 202, second floor - to the left of the elevator. Enjoy your stay Mr. and Mrs. Carlton."