Sweetheart Braves by Pamela Sanderson

Author:Pamela Sanderson [Sanderson, Pamela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pamela Sanderson

Back in the motel room, Tommy went into the bathroom to change into his sweatpants and brush his teeth. When he came out, Elizabeth went in, the two of them still quiet.

Every time he replayed the sound of the police officer pounding on the car roof, he went cold again. He couldn't calm the tremor in his hands.

They had a tiny room almost precisely the size of two queen beds. A small gap separated them. Granny was bundled up in one of them, lightly snoring. He crawled into the other bed, the sheets scratchy and the flimsy coverlet smelling vaguely of unwashed human.

Elizabeth finished in the bathroom and crawled into bed, leaning her warm body into his. How was he supposed to return to his old life without the endless thrill of Elizabeth? Every minute it was something new, the endless amusement in her voice, and her serious eyes when she listened to him. Right now, the sense of her next to him, more than lust, a tightness in his chest.

"What about Granny?" he said when she wrapped an arm over him.

"She won't care. She'd be more surprised to find me in the same bed with her in the morning."

He wasn't about to argue. He gathered her into his arms, their bodies pressed tight down to their toes, overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment that had previously eluded him.

"I heard what you said to the cop," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

His heart sank again. Drinking. Not drinking. It always had to be part of the conversation. He should have told her at the beginning.

"Normally I don't hide it. I guess I was afraid of what you would think. You know, rez life."

"You got your act together."

"I'm not fun anymore, " he said.

"You are plenty fun, Mr. Magic Fingers."

The motel room was dark except for the light from the parking lot that leaked around the curtains. She propped up her head with her hand. "Does it bother you to be around people drinking?"

"If they keep asking me if I'm sure I don't want a drink—like most of my family and friends back home—then yes. But otherwise, no."

"How do you feel about it?"

Tommy searched for the answer she would expect. "Honestly, I wish I wasn't. It's exhausting navigating people and social events. Managing a mask."

"What mask?" Elizabeth said. "The mask that you're keeping it together? Can it be okay not to keep it together and still be sober?"

"I think that's what I'm doing," Tommy said.

Her index finger stroked up and down the inside of his arm, a careless gesture of affection that made him realize how much he was missing, keeping himself closed off for so long. His heart wanted to crack open, even this little bit.

"What's the worst thing you did while drinking?" she asked.

That's where people went. Always wanting to know about the worst moments. "I never hit a woman, if that's what you're asking."

"I wasn't. I don't imagine you're the hitting type," Elizabeth said.

"There is no hitting type," he said, the words bitter in the back of his throat.

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