Page 78 of Holding On

“That’s another day’s work. We’ve got one objective right now.”

Clearly, the meeting is over.

Travis gestures to the bottle on the table. “And what about this?” His voice cracks, and my heart breaks.

Carlson rubs his hands together. “I’m driving that to the Portland lab right now.”

***

If they want some explanation of how prosecutors secure out-of-state-witnesses, both Travis and Jackson will be disappointed.

I sleep on the car ride back. The lights of the oncoming traffic send lightning through my skull. But when I close my eyes, I immediately fall asleep. At some point, they must stop the car, because when I wake up, Travis is sitting next to me in the back seat.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub?” he asks.

It’s pitch-black out. Clouds must have swept in after sunset. There’s not a star in the sky. I glance around and see Jackson disappear inside The Inn. The second-floor office windows are lit, and I know he’s going in to report to Nic and Finn.

“I have to go to bed,” I say.

Travis starts to unzip the hoodie, but I stop him.

“Aren’t you hot in that?”

I shake my head and just keep moving toward the clinic. Claire meets us at the door and helps me up the stairs. When I get to the top, Travis takes over. He leads me back to his old room and eases the hoodie and my pants off.

I’m instantly cold.

I try to pull off my panties, but he finishes the job, then takes off my bra.

He helps me into bed, and a second quilt settles across my body. The weight of the covers feels delicious. I sigh loudly, and he sets a glass of water on the nightstand.

Next, he wipes my face with a warm washcloth.

“Thank you,” I mumble, though I don’t sound clear.

“I’m going to wake you very hour,” he says, pulling up a chair.

Every hour.

Travis Russo never breaks a promise. Every hour, a warm kiss rouses me, making me fight for the surface, and then I’m allowed to sink back into blissful nothingness.

But there’s a thread of worry in all this.

He should never feel forced to break a promise to himself. And I don’t want to be the person who makes him break the promise to finish school.

I know somewhere in between those kisses, that if I asked, he’d do it. He’d postpone a year, two years . . . whatever it took.

I can’t be responsible for him giving up a dream.

***

The room is dark—too dark, since I know I’ve been asleep for hours, and it’s certainly not night anymore.

“Travis? Travis?” I mumble, licking my lips. They feel dry.

“Right here,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder.

His touch makes me stir under the covers.