Chapter 9

“I still can’t believe you signed a couple of autographs.”

Craig shrugged. “They’ll figure it out if they look up Mark Twain’s ancestors. But either way, it gave them a thrill.” It’d given him a thrill but for an entirely different reason. He felt a little bad about deceiving those nice people, but holding Mitchell close had been more exciting than he’d ever dared hope. Later, after they’d walked the town, bought more souvenirs, and visited a few other places, he was still at half-mast. He was looking forward to getting to the motel where he could hide in the bathroom and take care of the problem. A little less than two hours until they were in St. Louis. He’d make it. It might kill him, but he’d make it.3

Mitch

It was dark by the time they found a hotel in St. Louis. They’d originally wanted to just find a cheap motel, but when they saw a Drury Pear Tree Inn, they decided to stop. It had an indoor pool and whirlpool, so they grabbed their bags and headed inside to check in.