Chapter 3 : The Hotel
1169 Words
The hotel lobby was bright.
Hannah paused just inside the entrance. The shift from chaos to order settled over her, but she was still a little in shock.
Voices filled the space—too many, layered over each other in uneven waves. Some people spoke too fast, words tumbling out like they couldn’t stop. Others barely spoke at all, moving through the space like they were still somewhere else.
Like they hadn’t quite made it here yet.
She understood that feeling.
Her clothes still clung faintly to her skin, not fully dry despite the towel wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hair hung damp against her back. The chill from earlier hadn’t fully left her body—it lingered beneath the surface, quiet but persistent.
A hotel employee approached, offering another towel and a small, reassuring smile.
“Here you go.”
Hannah nodded, taking it.
“Thank you.”
Her voice sounded steadier than she felt.
She wrapped the towel more securely around herself, the warmth slowly beginning to sink in. It helped—but not enough to erase the memory of cold water climbing higher and higher.
“They’ve got rooms ready upstairs,” someone nearby said.
“Airline’s covering everything.”
“I just want a shower.”
Hannah closed her eyes briefly.
A shower.
Dry clothes.
Something solid. Something normal.
“You okay?”
Everett’s voice pulled her back.
She opened her eyes.
He stood beside her, close enough that she didn’t have to search for him. His hair was still damp, darker now, curling slightly at the ends. His shirt had dried in patches, clinging in others.
He looked tired.
But steady.
Always steady.
“I think so,” she said.
It was the easiest answer.
The safest one.
He studied her for a second, just observant.
“You’re still shaking.”
She hadn’t noticed.
Now that he said it, she did.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
His brow lifted slightly.
She let out a quiet breath.
“Okay, not fine,” she admitted.
“Better.”
That almost made her smile.
“They said rooms are ready,” he said after a moment.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
He nodded toward the front desk.
“Come on.”
They moved together, weaving through the lobby toward the line at the front desk. It stretched longer than she expected, people waiting patiently—or as patiently as they could—with damp clothes and tired eyes.
Hannah shifted her weight slightly, her body still not fully steady.
Everett stepped just a fraction closer behind her.
Not touching.
But close enough that she felt less exposed.
When it was her turn, the woman behind the desk looked up.
“Name?”
“Hannah Blake.”
The woman typed quickly.
“Room 417.”
She slid a key card across the counter.
“There are fresh clothes and basic necessities already in your room.”
“Thank you.”
Hannah picked up the card—
—and paused.
Everett stepped beside her.
“Room 418.”
Right next door.
Hannah let out a small breath.
“Guess we’re neighbors.”
“Looks like it.”
They moved toward the elevators together.
The doors opened. They stepped inside.
Alone.
The quiet felt contained here.
Hannah leaned back slightly, closing her eyes for a moment.
Her body still felt like it was moving.
“You okay?” Everett asked.
“I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”
“Yeah.”
The elevator opened on the fourth floor.
The hallway was dimmer. Quieter.
Room 417.
She stopped at her door.
“This is me.”
“Yeah.”
A pause settled between them.
“I should—”
“Hey.”
She looked up.
“If you don’t want to be alone,” Everett said, “I can order a bottle of wine and some food.”
She glanced at her door.
Then back at him.
“I might not be great company.”
“I think we’re working with the same situation.”
That made her smile.
Just a little.
“I might still be in shock.”
“Same.”
A beat passed.
“Okay,” she said.
He nodded.
“Get cleaned up. I’ll knock in a bit.”
She nodded once.
Then turned, sliding the key card into the door.
⸻
Inside, the room was quiet.
Still.
Safe.
She let the door close behind her and stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle.
Then her eyes moved to the bed.
Clothes were already laid out.
Neatly folded.
Simple. Clean. Dry.
A T-shirt. Soft pants. Undergarments. Toiletries placed beside them.
She crossed the room slowly, brushing her fingers over the fabric.
Dry.
Warm.
Real.
Everything she’d brought—
Gone.
Replaced with this.
Temporary.
Necessary.
She picked them up.
The shower came next.
Hot water.
She stepped under it and stayed there, letting the heat sink into her skin, loosening muscles she didn’t realize were tight.
When she stepped out, dressed and dry, she felt more like herself.
Not fully.
But closer.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Quiet.
Then—
A knock.
She stood and crossed the room.
When she opened the door, Everett stood there.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Food should be here in a few minutes.”
She nodded.
“Come in.”
He stepped inside, glancing around briefly before settling near the small table.
A few minutes later, another knock.
Everett moved to answer it, taking the delivery and bringing it inside.
Pizza.
Wine.
He set everything down, opening the box, pouring the drinks.
The smell of pizza filled the room as the lid lifted.
Hannah leaned forward slightly—and smiled.
Half of it had pineapple.
She looked up at him, a hint of amusement in her expression.
“You’re one of those people,” she said.
A corner of his mouth lifted.
“You remembered.”
“Unfortunately,” she said, though the smile stayed.
He slid the box closer between them.
“Figured you deserved options.”
She reached for a slice—carefully avoiding the pineapple side.
“Consideration and questionable taste,” she said.
“Can’t win them all.”
They sat.
The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just steady.
Grounding.
She took a bite, realizing how hungry she was.
Warm food. A calm space. A steady presence.
“You really don’t stay anywhere long?” he asked.
She looked up.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“No.”
“By choice?”
She hesitated.
Then—
“Mostly.”
He nodded slowly.
“I don’t think I’d like that,” he said.
“Staying?” she asked.
“Doing it alone.”
She studied him for a moment.
“That’s the difference,” she said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t stay long enough to get used to being alone.”
- Writer
