Chapter 5 - Finding Tessa
1198 Words
Morning arrived quietly.
Sierra woke to pale light filtering through the thin motel curtains and the steady hum of traffic from the highway beyond the parking lot.
For several moments, she remained beneath the stiff sheets, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Sleep had come eventually.
Rest never had.
The night felt fractured in her memory, made up of brief stretches of unconsciousness and restless dreams that dissolved the moment she opened her eyes. Every time she drifted off, it felt as though she surfaced again minutes later, disoriented and exhausted.
Her body felt heavy.
Exhaustion settled deep into her muscles, making even the simple act of lifting her head from the pillow feel like work.
Her eyes burned from crying.
A dull ache lingered low in her abdomen, joining the headache pressing against her temples.
The ache remained exactly where she'd left it the night before, waiting for her the moment she opened her eyes.
The motel room sat quietly around her, washed in pale morning light that exposed every detail she had managed to ignore in the dark.
A chair stood beneath the window.
Her suitcase remained near the door.
A jacket hung over the handle because she hadn't found the energy to unpack.
Nothing about the room felt familiar.
Oddly, she appreciated that.
This place existed outside the life she had walked away from.
For now, that was enough.
Slowly, she pushed herself upright.
The weight in her chest returned immediately.
It lingered beneath everything, woven through her thoughts with quiet persistence.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, gathering the energy to stand.
The previous day felt unreal now.
Everything remained sharp and immediate, yet trying to make sense of it felt impossible.
One moment she had been packing her life into a suitcase.
The next she was waking up alone in a motel room, trying to figure out where she belonged.
Eventually, she rose to her feet and crossed to the small bathroom.
The woman staring back from the mirror looked exhausted.
Dark circles sat beneath bloodshot eyes.
Her hair had escaped its braid during the night and now framed her face in tangled waves.
“You look terrible,” she muttered.
The reflection offered no argument.
Cold water splashed across her face.
The exhaustion remained, but the coolness helped clear some of the fog from her thoughts.
When she returned to the bedroom, her phone rested on the bedside table exactly where she'd left it.
She stared at it for several seconds before picking it up.
The screen lit immediately.
Missed calls.
Messages.
Notifications.
Most of them came from Jax Ryder.
Her chest tightened.
She didn't open them.
Instead, she lowered the phone and stared out the window.
A truck rumbled through the parking lot.
Someone loaded luggage into the back of a car.
A family climbed into an SUV and pulled away.
Life continued.
People moved forward.
The strangers outside carried on with their mornings completely unaware that the woman standing in room twelve had spent yesterday watching her future unravel.
Her gaze dropped back to the phone.
The temptation to open his messages remained.
She knew what they would say.
Apologies.
Questions.
Promises.
Jax always meant those things when he said them.
That had never been the issue.
The problem appeared afterward.
The club needed him.
Something demanded his attention.
Another emergency arrived.
And somehow she always found herself waiting.
She set the phone aside and rubbed her hands over her face.
There would be time to deal with Jax later.
Right now she needed to focus on herself.
The realization felt strange.
For so long, her days revolved around other people.
Jax.
The club.
Whatever crisis happened to be unfolding that week.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped asking what she wanted.
The thought lingered as she walked across the room.
Her gaze landed on the suitcase near the door.
It looked small.
Two years of her life reduced to a handful of belongings and a few changes of clothes.
A bitter laugh escaped her.
There was something ridiculous about that.
She had walked away from a house, a relationship, and the future she thought she was building.
Now everything important fit inside a suitcase.
The laugh faded as quickly as it arrived.
Those questions could wait a little longer.
Instead, she unlocked her phone again and scrolled through her contacts.
Names passed beneath her thumb.
Old clients.
Club members.
People she hadn't spoken to in months.
Then she found the name she was looking for.
Tessa.
A surprising amount of tension eased from her shoulders.
The name carried memories of a different version of herself.
A version that existed long before Dead Mile Motorcycle Club entered her life.
Long before she started measuring time by Jax's schedule and club obligations.
Back when her biggest concern involved solving a case before a client lost patience.
Back when she and Tessa survived on determination, bad coffee, and the stubborn belief that their agency would succeed.
It had been theirs.
Built from nothing.
Every late night.
Every difficult client.
Every small victory.
She missed the feeling of building something that belonged to her.
Each success had carried a sense of purpose she hadn't realized she was missing.
Tessa had called more times than Sierra could count over the past year.
Messages remained unanswered.
Calls went unreturned.
At first Sierra always planned to respond later.
Later turned into weeks.
Then months.
Then silence.
Guilt surfaced immediately.
Tessa deserved better.
A faint smile touched her lips as she imagined the reaction waiting for her.
There would definitely be swearing.
Possibly yelling.
Almost certainly sarcasm.
Underneath all of that would be relief.
Before hesitation had a chance to take root, Sierra pressed call.
The phone rang twice.
“Well, well,” Tessa said immediately, her voice bright with familiar mischief. “Either my phone is broken, or Sierra Hart has finally remembered I exist.”
A breathless laugh slipped out before Sierra could stop it.
“Hi, Tess.”
A pause followed.
Then Tessa spoke again.
“Hey, stranger.”
Something tightened in Sierra's chest.
The feeling carried warmth, like wrapping herself in a familiar blanket after spending too long out in the cold.
“I need your help,” she said quietly.
No hesitation came from the other end.
“Say the word and I'll bring coffee, sarcasm, and a shovel if we need to bury a body.”
Another laugh escaped her.
Small, a little unsteady, but real.
Tessa came into focus as she listened. Long red hair that never stayed where she put it. Intelligent green eyes that missed absolutely nothing. A personality capable of filling an entire room before she even sat down.
The future no longer felt like an endless stretch of uncertainty.
It felt like something she could walk toward.
The road ahead remained complicated.
Grief still sat heavily inside her.
The coming days would bring challenges she wasn't ready to face yet.
Even so, the crushing isolation that had followed her since the hospital finally eased.
She had someone beside her again.
And somehow, that made all the difference.
- Writer
