Page 32 of Bad Wolf

And I don’t mean like some whiny, clingy girl that needs a man to make her happy, because it’s so much more than that.

He’s the spark to my match. The light switch in a darkened room. He’s a shooting star through the midnight sky. He’s my sun, and I’m just a twenty-four-year-old with nothing to show for the last six years, except for a crushed lonely heart pining for her soulmate.

The song eventually comes to an end and with it, my tumbling thoughts.

When the next exit sign shines in the distance, I heed its call and cross the lanes for the off-ramp.

Gas, a bathroom break, and a regular coffee later, I’m back behind the wheel, and ready for the next two hours.

When I finally arrive at the hotel, I’m glad it lives up to the reviews I read when I snuck into Barry’s office and did a little research for my trip. It’s not far from the airport, but the perks outweighed the location,Secure Parking and Breakfast Includedhad me clicking confirm there and then.

I park close to the entrance in the spot I deem the safest, and head in with all my stuff. It’s late and I’m hoping the coffee I had earlier doesn’t keep me up all night. I made it milky but I’m praying I don’t live to regret having it so late.

When I swipe open the door, I’m greeted by a massive room decorated in bright colors. It also gets bonus points for cleanliness. I open the door to the ensuite and fist pump at how generously sized the shower is.

I can’t wait to get in. It’s so humid in Miami. I always feel like my skin is coated in a film of dried sweat and sunscreen, and today is no different.

I shed all my clothes, not bothering with the drapes, and take my 90’s style vanity case into the bathroom. I turn the water on hot and then sort through my toiletries and makeup. My hair will be fine for tonight, but I’ll need to wash it tomorrow evening, for sure.

I grip my thick locks up in a clip and hop in, groaning at the way the water feels on my skin. This showerhead is nothing to scoff at. The pressure is amazing, and I end up kind of leaning my shoulder on the tile while the water washes over me.

It’s exactly what I need and has me feeling all kinds of positive as I dry off. By the time I’m jumping into bed, the room looks like a cyclone swept right through it, but I’m too tired now to even care.

I drift off into the kind of sleep that knocks you out so cold, when morning rolls around, you find you’re in the same position you were nine hours ago.

I wake up feeling refreshed and ready to hit the road again. Getting ready, I curse myself a hundred times for not being a tidier person. I’m not gonna let some stupid character flaw get me down though.

Knox is all but a mere day away from me now.

Sorry Palm Beach, there’s no time to waste.

I fuel up on a big breakfast and when no one is looking, pop a few pastries, rolled up in a napkin, into my bag. I even fill up my drink bottle and grab a to-go coffee before handing my key over to the desk clerk.

There’s no need to wait around, nothing extra was charged to my room.

“Okay, Demon,” I say as I plop myself down on the seat. “We’ve got our longest stretch today. We’re only stopping to pee and for gas.” I take my time situating the napkins, pastries, and drinks again, and then go ahead and search for a station to listen to. I type in the address of my next hotel and hit the road.

I’m too amped up to take my time. I just want to get to Knox. The GPS is taking me in the most direct route possible, but every now and again I get a glimpse of more than just a tree-lined highway.

I practice what I’m going to say to Knox. I rehearse my speech. Try to keep it as concise as possible. The highlights being, I was in a no-win situation, and I did what I thought was right to protect him.

After refueling the Demon and myself, I set back out on the particularly quiet road again, having been rerouted away from the highway for this part of the journey.

As the miles pass, and the time flies, my excitement grows.

The temperature, however, is plummeting the further north I travel, so before it gets too cold and too dangerous, I wind down every window in this beast, turn the music up as loud as it will go, and hit the gas, letting out an almighty scream that feels more like a war cry than a whoop.

I push down on the peddle harder, the wind whipping my hair around my face, the air biting at my cheeks, while I sing my heart to Boston.

* * *

You’d think the two days I’ve spent on the road would go slow, but before I know it, I’m heading into Springfield.

The final hotel approaches and I slow to a crawl, signaling to pull into the entrance, but I’m torn.

I could blow right by and get into the city early. It’d be 4 a.m. when I got there, and I’d have to find somewhere to park up until it was time to get to the meeting spot.

Or I could stop and try and get some rest.

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