When I saw the robe, I paused. It struck a familiar chord, but I couldn’t place why. Given the other crappy hotels, I was sure it hadn’t been because of them. I continued staring at it. Seeing it didn’t alarm me; it made me feel like I’d forgotten something important.
Absently, I wandered from the bathroom, forgetting to worry about my feet as I looked around again. Nothing in the kitchen or living area looked familiar, and I started to doubt the odd feeling I’d gotten.
Emmitt, who sat on the sofa, lifted his head from his hands and watched me with a sad light in his gaze. I crossed the carpet, sat beside him, and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Don’t dwell on the past. It doesn’t do any good.”
He kissed my forehead. “Go take your bath.”
Reaching around him, I gave him a quick hug then got up to inspect the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” he asked with curiosity in his voice.
“Just checking things out. Something seemed familiar, and I can’t figure out why.”
I moved to the doorway and froze. The king-sized bed with a white down comforter dominated the room. Two towels folded into swans faced each other at the end of the bed. Their heads and necks formed a heart. On the wall above the bed, a black, white, and brown abstract painting hung. To the left, long black and brown patterned curtains dominated the wall.
This was the room from the vision where I bit Emmitt. My stomach dropped, and a blush consumed my face. My stomach continued twisting nervously, and my heart gave a quick unsteady beat.
“Are you okay?” Emmitt asked quietly from behind me.
Startled, I jumped and turned. “Yep. Fine. I’m going to rinse in the shower then take a nice long soak. Let me know when the food’s here, okay?” My gaze drifted to his throat briefly before I forced it back to his eyes.
He tilted his head, probably trying to figure out what I wasn’t saying. I just smiled nervously and moved to step around him. He mirrored my move, blocking me.
“Michelle, tell me. What is it? Should we leave? Find another room?” Concern etched his face.
Despite my discomfort, I couldn’t let him worry. I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his chest. His heart beat strong and steady. Mine still raced.
“No. The room is fine. I just connected it with a vision I had.”
“What was the vision about?”
I made a face against his chest, not wanting to say anything, but knowing he’d think the worst, if I didn’t.
“You and me.” I pulled away, feeling nervous. Then, the filter between my brain and my mouth broke. Every thought that crossed my mind spilled from me unedited.
“I don’t want to bite you. I don’t care if it looked like you liked it or not. It’s going to hurt you, and I just don’t think I can do it. Not yet.”
He quickly masked his shocked expression and didn’t try to stop me when I fled toward the bathroom. I wasn’t nervous about being “engaged” to Emmitt. The biting part scared me. I’d bit Frank because I was angry and desperate. I’d meant it to hurt him. Granted it hadn’t, and all I had to show for it was the lingering taste of rotten soup in my mouth, but still...
I glanced back at Emmitt just before I stepped into the bathroom. He watched me with concern. I’d put him through enough lately, and as I turned away, I wished I could take back my mental spill.
I left the door ajar for comfort; I needed to be able to hear him moving around out there. Though I wasn’t about to let myself dwell on the mistake I’d made when I’d opened the door for Frank, I wouldn’t soon forget the fear.
The tub was at least halfway full, so I shut it off and moved to the shower. I was about to peel off my clothes when I realized they were the only ones I had. The hotel probably had a laundry service but what would they think of the blood that smattered my shirt? I stepped out of my shorts, but kept the rest on as I ducked in under the spray. First, I peeled off the shirt, cleaning it with shampoo until the bloodstains were gone. Then I rinsed my under things. I rung everything out and hung the clothes over the glass shower door.
The water ran pink again when I washed my hair. Would I really be Claiming Emmitt tonight with a head injury? What kind of crazed person was I? The word “tonight” echoed in my head. I needed to think about something else. I needed a toothbrush.
I ran my fingers along my scalp to assess the damage. Wincing at the sting of the shampoo, I determined the blood was from a scrape rather than a cut. Relieved there wouldn’t be a need for stitches, I hurried to rinse. Then I washed my mouth out with soap.
Free of the blood and Frank’s lingering smell, I quickly moved to the tub and eased into the hot water. When I started the jets, the water churned so much, the level rose to the rim. I leaned back and sank down so it lapped at my chin. Slowly, I began to relax.
My mind drifted to everything Frank had said and the call with Blake. Talking to Blake hadn’t been as helpful as I hoped. Could I trust that he’d really given up on me for now? I thought so. At least, Frank’s comment about me not being the only one made it a possibility. Yet, I wondered what “sisters” I had that Blake meant to find. It disturbed me to think of another woman having to deal with Blake like I had as much as it frustrated me that I hadn’t gotten the answers I wanted. I had a lot to share with the group when we got back, though. Maybe some of them would have more insight.
The water hadn’t even had time to cool when I heard a knock on the outer door. I fumbled with the jets, turning them off, and listened. Emmitt walked by the bathroom door. I sunk low in the water, but he only pulled the door shut as he passed.
I left the water as quietly as possible, grabbed a towel, and quickly dried off. All the while, I strained to hear anything. Was it too quiet out there? I tossed on the robe, crept toward the door, and pressed my ear against its surface.
“Food’s here.”
I jumped at the sound of Emmitt’s voice directly on the other side of the door and yanked it open in time to catch his slight smirk.
“Not funny.” I pulled the belt tightly around my waist and flinched when my bruised stomach immediately protested.
His expression grew serious, and he looked me over as I loosened the belt. When his eyes lingered on the side of my head, I turned slightly to show him the scrape.
“It’s not as bad as I thought,” I said turning to look at him again. He wasn’t eyeing my head anymore, but the robe. Too late, I realized what I’d done. The vision had shown me in a robe.
Before I could become more nervous, he indicated the food he’d set out on the kitchenette’s island. His mother had ordered steaks topped with blue cheese, sides of mushrooms, and baked potatoes with the works. There were three full meals. My tender stomach rebelled at the thought of eating so much, but I knew it wasn’t all for me. Emmitt needed more food due to the miles he’d covered.
I settled on one of the stools, heard a clink, and looked down to see one of the meals already set in front of me. I opened my mouth to argue, but Emmitt gave me a warning look. Was I two-years-old, now? Yet, I kept quiet about why I didn’t want to eat.
The scrape on my head and marks on my wrists and ankles were enough for him to worry over. I wasn’t about to give him a full inventory of my aches so he could dwell on each one. He was already upset Frank had gotten me. If he knew the extent of it, he’d just feel worse.
We ate in silence. I picked at the meal, eating a few bites from everything before pushing it away. Emmitt reached for my plate, scraped it together with what was left of his second meal, then put the leftovers in the refrigerator.
Hunger satisfied, I leaned against the counter, propped my head up with my hand, and fought to keep my eyes open. Funny that I’d started out the day thinking it’d be boring when it’d been anything but boring. Banged around, kidnapped, rescued, carried for miles, I needed sleep. I yawned hugely and tried to smother it with my hand. I wasn’t ready to go to the bedroom, yet. No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t forget my vision.