Page 72 of After All This Time

"Of course," I say, running a hand through my tangled hair, trying to feel somewhat human again.

Ten minutes later, we pull up to a motel that isn't half bad compared to others we've passed. It's not luxury by any stretch, but at least it's not creepy.

We step out of the car, and Tobias gestures for me to go ahead, his hand lightly brushing my lower back as I pass him.

Inside, a little old man stands behind the counter. He's about my height, maybe in his seventies, with wiry white hair that looks like it's been combed with a fork. His thick glasses magnify kind, crinkly eyes, and the warm smile on his face feels like it belongs on a holiday card.

"Well, hello there," he greets us. "Are you looking for a room?"

"Yeah, please. Two—I mean," I stumble, feeling Tobias sidle up beside me, his arm brushing against mine.

The older man's eyes glance between us, and his smile widens knowingly. "Uh-oh. You two had a disagreement? Been stuck in the car too long?"

"About ten hours now," Tobias answers smoothly, like he's indulging the man in a private joke.

Clive—according to his name badge—lets out a low whistle and shakes his head. "That'll do it," he says, his eyes wide behind his glasses. He types something into the ancient computer in front of him, squinting at the screen. Then, his expression falls. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but we only have one room left."

"Seriously?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"'Fraid so," Clive says, nodding gravely. "Had you been here half an hour sooner, we would've had two. But you're stuck with the one." His apologetic smile does nothing to ease the panic climbing up my throat.

I glance up at Tobias, not wanting to get back in that car for another second, but the idea of sharing a room with him feels like walking straight into a fire I lit myself.

"What do you want to do?" I ask, my voice quieter now, hoping he has a better solution.

"We'll take it," he says without hesitation, sliding his card across the counter like he hasn't just signed us up for the world's most complicated sleepover.

Chapter 28

Tobias

Sharing a room with Amelia might be the dumbest fucking idea I've had in a long time. But after ten hours on the road and the promise of even more tomorrow, I need sleep. Badly. Besides, we share an apartment. This won't be any different, right? Just… without the luxury of separate doors and the illusion of boundaries. No big deal.

That's the lie I keep telling myself anyway.

I stand by the car, hands shoved into my pockets, watching her as she rifles through her bag. The darkness is settling in thick now, and there's no way in hell I'm letting her walk around here alone. The place isn't sketchy, but she's not leaving my sight. Not tonight.

"Got everything you need?"

"Yeah, I think so," she says calmly like this whole situation isn't a slow-motion train wreck waiting to happen.

I don't say anything else. I just gesture for her to head toward the room. My steps fall in line with hers, close enough to protect her, far enough to keep my hands to myself.

The problem is that everything about her, from the soft curve of her neck where it meets her shoulder to the way the lights catch the subtle gold in her hair, makes it impossible to forget what we're walking into.

One room.

One bed.

The truth is, the closed door of that motel room won't just shut out the world outside—it'll trap us inside together. No distractions. No escape. Just me, her, and all the things we've been pretending don't exist.

Once we reach the door, I unlock it, pushing it open just enough to reveal the room. I know we're thinking the same thing—the same dangerous, forbidden thoughts that neither of us is stupid enough to voice. Or maybe we're both cowards, afraid of what happens when we finally admit what this is.

Then Amelia moves.

The door swings open wider, and she brushes past me, her scent wrapping around me—a mix of coconut and something softer, something undeniably hers. It takes everything in me not to reach out and grab her, desperate to find out if she tastes as sweet as she smells.

I step in after her, scanning the room as if I haven't already guessed precisely what it'll look like. One bed, of course. A cheap nightstand that looks like it's been here longer than either of us has been alive, and a single chair crammed into the corner, too small to handle the weight of a man trying not to think about stripping his stepsister bare until she's wearing nothing but my hands on her skin and my name on her lips.

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