I push the thought away. I can’t think about that now. I go to my room, take off my clothes, and crash.
RHODES
When I get back to the hotel, I talk to the girl in the lobby about extending my stay for one more night—which is no issue since this place is always half-empty—then go to my room and collapse. I’ve been up for nearly twenty-four hours at this point, and my whole body hurts.
But it was worth it to be there for Micah. I’m so glad she wasn’t alone. My heart ached for her in those hours at the hospital. It was excruciating to watch, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
I sit on the edge of the bed, take off my shoes, and sit for a moment, staring into the beige nothingness of the floral wallpaper. It’s almost as if I’m too tired to sleep, so I go into a trance. I take a deep breath to snap myself out of it, then take off the rest of my clothes and crawl under the covers.
I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
* * *
When I wake, it’s lunchtime. My stomach howls and I’m desperate for coffee. I check my phone, but Micah hasn’t reached out. I send her a quick text, letting her know I’m thinking about her and to let me know if she needs anything.
I take a quick shower, put on the extra set of clothes I thankfully brought, and go to Main Street to Bonny Beans Coffee Shop. I recognize the girl behind the counter as one of Micah’s friends.
“Hey, SAM,” she says when I get to the register.
I turn to make sure no one else is behind me. “You must have me mistaken?—"
“No, I don’t. You’re Sexy Architect Man.”
I raise my eyebrows and stare at her. This is awkward.
“I’m Micah’s friend. That’s what we’ve been calling you in our group text. SAM.”
I smile and nod, unsure whether to be embarrassed or flattered. “Yes, I’m the architect.”
“Speaking of Micah,” the girl says. “I got a text from our friend Patsy. She said her car wasn’t at the antique store this morning and it looks like the place hasn’t opened. She’s not answering our texts. Is everything okay?”
“No.” I tell her about Ms. Barbara and our night at the hospital.
“I’m glad you were there for her,” she says, her eyes wide and brows furrowed in concern. “Coffee’s on me, whatever you want.”
I order a latte with double espresso and a bagel. She makes it for me, then disappears into the kitchen with her phone.
Once I finish eating, I wave goodbye to Sistine and return to the hotel. Part of me wants to go to the hospital to check on Micah’s grandmother myself, but I also want to give her the space she needs. So, I wait.
* * *
Afew hours later, she texts me and asks me to pick her up at her house at eight o’clock. I breathe a sigh of relief. If she’s wanting to go out tonight, it must mean her grandmother is doing better.
When I arrive at her house, she’s waiting for me on the patio with a small backpack. Her face is still puffy and I notice it’s also free of the make-up she normally wears. Her hair is pulled back in a high, bouncy ponytail, like one of those vintage Barbie dolls. She’s also more casually dressed in wide-leg jeans and a Cattywampus Brewing t-shirt.
“Sorry I look like a ragamuffin,” she says. “I figured after you saw me at my worst last night, you could probably handle me without all the fixins.”
“You’re beautiful regardless,” I say, giving her a hug.
She looks in my eyes. “Wow,” she says. “You really mean that.”
“Of course I do,” I answer. I almost kiss her there in the porch light, but she pulls back and tells me she has a surprise for me.
We get in my car and drive back towards town, down Main Street and past the brewery in the direction of the old Victorian Village. As we drive, she tells me her grandmother is doing—and looking—much better since we left her at the hospital early this morning. Micah spent most of the afternoon there, and apparently after I told Sistine what was going on, her friends showed up to visit as well.
I’m glad she had the support, and the fact that she has such devoted friends speaks volumes. I respect the hell out of it.
Streetlights stop after we pass the Florablanca Inn, which looks like something out of a horror movie at night, so the path is dark and there are no cars or signs of life. Micah points out the cemetery where she and her friends would hang out in high school. It’s old, with an iron fence, leaning headstones, and Spanish moss hanging low enough to touch the ground. You’d have to go to Salem to find a spookier place.
