~Aria's POV
The receptionist nodded again, tapping a few more keys. "We have a room ready for you, our deluxe suite. It's on the top floor, quiet, great view of the hills." She paused, then looked at me kindly. "Would you like to pay with a card or cash?"
I fumbled in my bag, my wet fingers clumsy as I pulled out my credit card. My other hand was still wrapped around my hoodie, shivering slightly. "Card," I said, voice tight.
She handed me a small terminal. I swiped the card, my heart thudding in my chest. I felt a pang of guilt. This was expensive, much more than I had expected to spend, but… what choice did I have? I needed somewhere safe, somewhere dry, somewhere I could finally catch my breath.
The terminal beeped, the little green light confirming the payment, and a printed receipt slid out from the side. I took it automatically, fingers brushing the smooth paper, feeling a tiny spark of control in a day that had been chaotic and unrelenting.
"Thank you, Ms. Miller," the receptionist said, sliding a key card across the counter. "Room 502. The elevator's to your right. Breakfast is served in the morning, and if you need anything, just call the desk. We'll be happy to help."
I nodded, shivering again despite the warmth, and took the card carefully. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the storm and from talking too little.
Brian gave me a small nod, then stepped back into the shadows of the lobby. "I'll… be around if you need help," he murmured, his grey eyes steady and unreadable.
I stepped away from the desk, clutching the key card like a lifeline, and headed toward the elevators, the sound of the rain muffled by the thick glass doors. My wet shoes made soft squelching sounds on the polished marble, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders slowly begin to ease.
The elevator hummed softly as it carried me up, the warmth inside contrasting sharply with the cold rain still dripping from my hoodie. My hands clutched the key card, fingers sticky from the storm and the slickness of my soaked sleeves. When the doors slid open onto the top floor, the hallway felt quiet, almost sacred. Thick carpet muffled my steps, and soft lights cast a golden glow on the pale walls, making everything seem calmer, almost safe.
I reached room 502 and pushed the door open. The warmth hit me instantly, a wave of comfort that made my shoulders loosen for the first time all night. The suite was bigger than I'd expected, spacious, elegant, with muted colors and soft lighting that felt like it had been designed to soothe weary travelers. A plush bed dominated the center, covered in crisp white sheets that smelled faintly of lavender. A large armchair sat near the window, and a small table had been neatly arranged with a water carafe and glasses.
I kicked off my wet shoes and let the door swing shut behind me, the click of the lock feeling like a small victory. My bag had been placed neatly near the closet, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, letting my arms fall to my sides. Exhaustion hit me in waves, my muscles ached, my teeth chattered, and my chest still felt tight from the cold and the stress of the drive.
After a few moments, I remembered my phone. My heart sank when I realized it was dead. I groaned softly, crawling to the door and grabbing my hoodie to throw over my shoulders as I headed back to the reception desk. The rain had eased to a drizzle by now, but my hair clung to my face, and my shoes squished with every step.
"Hi," I said, voice hesitant, holding up the phone. "Do you… happen to have a charger? I forgot mine in my house."
The receptionist smiled kindly. "Of course, Ms. Miller. We have a universal charger at the desk. Here, take it."
I took it carefully, my fingers brushing the smooth plastic. "Thank you so much," I said, genuinely grateful. "I didn't think I'd be able to return it tonight."
"It's no problem at all," she said warmly. "We're happy to help. You just let us know if you need anything else, okay?"
I nodded, feeling a flicker of relief. Back in my room, I plugged in the phone, listening to the small hum as it came to life. I sank onto the bed again, the sheets soft against my chilled skin, and let myself breathe, finally allowing the tension to seep out of my body.
I shivered under the hoodie, my stomach growling faintly. I hadn't eaten much today, and the exhaustion mixed with hunger made my head spin slightly. I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at the window as the rain continued to patter against the glass. Outside, the world was quiet, a soft gray blur of shadows and wet streets. Inside, finally, I had warmth, safety, and a pause.
For the first time in hours, I let the tears come again, but this time they were softer, less raw.
I sank deeper into the soft bed, finally letting the warmth seep into my chilled bones. The storm outside had quieted into a gentle drizzle, tapping softly against the window, almost like a lullaby. My stomach rumbled again.
I slid off the bed, careful not to disturb the neat folds of the sheets, and padded to the small kitchenette in the corner. The kettle boiled quickly, and soon the steam curled up, warm and fragrant. I poured the water over a teabag, inhaling the aroma of chamomile as it steeped, letting it calm my rattled nerves. The cup was warm in my hands, comforting, grounding me in a way I hadn't felt since leaving the city.
By the time I returned to the bed, the charger had finished breathing life into my phone. My heart skipped a little as I unlocked it, half-afraid to see messages, half-hoping someone would reach out. The screen lit up with notifications, but one caught my attention immediately: my father.
Are you okay? Please tell me we can talk this out.
I stared at it, my throat tightening.
I whispered to myself, "Maybe… maybe he really does care."
The cup of tea cooled in my hands, steam curling slowly into the air, and I felt the weight of the day press less sharply on my shoulders. For the first time since I'd driven away, I allowed myself a small, fragile hope. That perhaps, in the quiet of Nill Creek, with the rain outside and the warmth of a safe room around me, I could start to breathe again.
I sipped the tea slowly, setting the phone beside me. I curled under the blankets, letting my thoughts drift.
The first page of my book, the stormy drive, the chaos I'd left behind, it all felt distant here, softened by the quiet hum of the inn. I let my eyelids fall, the cup of tea cooling on the nightstand, and finally, just for a little while, I let myself sleep.