Page 26 of The Hotel Room

And her kids were paying the price.

CHAPTER NINE

James

James sat at the kitchen table, his phone face-up beside him, the screen dark but taunting.

He’d called. Texted. Left voicemails she hadn’t answered. For days.

The house was too quiet. It had been that way since Kate had taken the kids. And the silence was unbearable.

The ache in his chest had shifted into something heavier, rawer—anger.

This radio silence, the way she’d shut him out completely, keeping the kids from him like he was some kind of monster—

It wasn’t fair.

She wasn’t the only parent. Whatever had happened—whateverhehad done—it didn’t change the fact that they were his too.

When he heard the key in the door, James shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor.

He crossed the hallway in seconds, yanking the door open, heart thundering—relief, tension, confusion all tangling in his chest.

Kate.

She stood on the porch, holding her house keys, her face pale, drawn. She looked tired. Smaller somehow, like the weight of holding herself together had taken something from her.

But what hit him hardest—what twisted his gut—was howguardedshe was.

The kids weren’t with her. That sharp frustration flared again.

“Kate.” His voice came out rough, harsher than he intended. “You’ve been ignoring my calls. What the hell are you—”

“I know.” Her voice cut through his, quiet but sharp.

James blinked.

“I’m sorry,” she added, and the words sounded so…hollow. “I shouldn’t have kept them from you. I was—” She exhaled shakily, gaze flicking away. “I was trying to figure things out. But the kids need you. And they need their home.”

James stared at her, the words taking a beat too long to process.

His heart stuttered.

“They’re—” He swallowed hard. “You’re coming back?”

She nodded, but the tightness in her expression didn’t ease.

“We’ll move back tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

James let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a surge of relief flooding his chest so fast it made his head spin.

This nightmare—this awful, impossible limbo—it was ending.

They could fix this.Hecould fix this.

“Kate,” he breathed, stepping forward, reaching for her. “God, I’m so glad. I’ve been—”

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