Page 27 of Dr. Attending

His hazel eyes that are typically full of mischief, look dull and defeated. A shadow of thin stubble peppers his normally clean-shaven jaw, and his golden hair is wild and windswept.

He looks . . . exhausted. Vulnerable, even. Nothing like the man I’m used to.

But even though seeing him like this eases my defenses, I’m still going to make him explain what the hell is going on before I make a move because he owes me an explanation.

I cross my arms over my chest.

“No,” I answer, making sure to keep my voice at a whisper. “I’m not ready. Because I don’t know where we are, or why we’re here.”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “We’re at a hotel. And we’re stopping for the night.”

Obviously, I gathered that, but it doesn’t make any sense to me. We can’t be that far from the lake, and nothing seems to be wrong with my car . . . there’s no reason we should be stopping.

“Le—”

Weston interrupts me before I can get a word in. “Caroline. You know how much I love our little spats. But right now is not the best time. Will youpleasejust get out of the car and follow me inside?”

“Why?”

He runs his fingers through his already messy hair and closes his eyes. When he opens them, they’re almost glassy. “I promise to explain everything in a little bit. Can you just trust me for once?”

I want to stand my ground because he hasn’t given me any reason to trust him over the years. But the way he’s looking at me right now is almost pleading, like he’s being more sincere than he’s ever been before.

“Fine,” I finally say with a huff, scooting out of the back seat.

I grab my brown Weekender bag from the trunk while Weston swiftly places his son in the stroller.

For a guy who seemed so unsure about installing a car seat, he sure does make everything else look easy. He opens the stroller with one hand and gently pushes it back and forth while slinging the rest of his things over his shoulder in one smooth motion. Ihonestly had no idea that men were capable of multitasking like this.

We enter the building through an automatic sliding door at the back of the property to avoid waking Carter up. Faint music and laughter drift from the lobby, the kind of sound you’d expect from a wedding after-party or a neighborhood bar. It seems strange that this place is so crowded, considering it’s just a run-down chain hotel in the middle of nowhere, but I don’t have the capacity to question it at the moment.

Weston leads us down a hallway that looks like it’s seen better days. The emerald carpet is stained in odd, dark patches, and the walls are lined with dusty stock photography of generic mountain views that could use a good dusting.

He stops in front of a gray metal door, dropping the navy duffel bag in his hand to the ground so that he can reach into his pocket.

I frown as he presses a white card to the keypad, waiting for him to hand me my own. But he doesn’t. He unlocks the door and holds it open with his foot, glancing back at me with a pained expression. It’s like he knows that I’m about to cause a scene, but he doesn’t have it in him to fight right now.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I swear that there was only one room left.”

My body tenses because the last thing I want to do after spending hours in the car with him is sleep in the same room together. But I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? It’s not like I’m going to pass out in my car in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains—I’ve watched enough true crime to know that wouldn’t be a wise decision.

I press my lips into a thin line and brush past him, taking in the room.

It’s not as bad as I initially thought.

Sure, there’s a questionable smell that lingers in the air, and the bathroom to the immediate right of the door is dated in its finishes, but it’s otherwise pretty decent. I’ve definitely slept in worse places—like the fraternity houses in undergrad with floors so sticky after Wine Wednesday that you wouldn’t dare walk around barefoot.

Right as I’m beginning to think that this won’t be the most miserable night of my life, my eyes land on the bed in the middle of the room.

I spin back around, feeling a pulse of heat spread across my face as I try not to lose my shit.

“Really, Wes?” I seethe as he gently closes the door behind him. “One fucking bed?”

He shrugs, giving me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sorry, princess. Apparently, there’s a travel baseball tournament in town for the weekend. We were lucky they even had space for us.”

I grit my teeth and drop my bag on the white duvet. “This isnotwhat I would call getting lucky.”

He doesn’t respond as I dig through my clothes in search of my toiletries. I need to take a steaming hot shower to cool myself off. And yes, I’m fully aware that doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t care. I need a moment to myself.

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