Chapter 11 — The Distance Between Them
328 Words
Aurora could barely focus for the rest of her shift.
Every room key on the wall reminded her of him.
Every quiet footstep in the hallway made her think he might appear again.
But midnight passed, then one, then two.
He never came downstairs.
She checked the monitor screen once. Room 203 remained still.
Lights off. Curtains drawn.
Why did he look at me like that?
Why does it feel like he knows something about my past?
When her shift finally ended, she walked outside.
The air was cold and wet with ocean humidity.
As she pulled her jacket tighter, she heard footsteps behind her.
Slow. Heavy. Familiar.
Aurora turned.
And there he was.
Ezra stood under the dim motel sign, hands in his pockets, moonlight catching the scar near his jaw. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms, veins tense like he’d been waiting a long time.
“You’re done for the night,” he said quietly.
She forced a small nod. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He stepped closer—close enough she could smell faint smoke and something metallic beneath it.
“Why are you outside alone?” he asked.
“I just needed air.”
Ezra studied her, eyes unreadable.
He wasn’t angry.
He wasn’t cold.
He was…watching. Measuring.
“Did someone bother you tonight?” he asked.
“No. It was just a normal shift.”
“Normal,” he repeated, as if the word didn’t exist in his world.
Wind pushed her hair across her cheek. Ezra reached forward instinctively—then stopped mid-motion, lowering his hand.
“I shouldn’t,” he murmured.
“Shouldn’t what?” she asked softly.
He didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll… see you around.”
Before she could process it, he walked past her, disappearing behind the building.
She stood there, heart beating too fast.
Why does it feel like he’s protecting me from something I can’t see?
- Writer
