Page 45 of Truck Off

Every one of my brothers looks in Lina’s direction. Only now her gaze is cold as ice. Even her deep blue eyes have an icy sheen to them.

“Let me guess,” Liam says. “You didn’t tell her the truth yourself.”

I rub the back of my neck as I watch Lina walk away with Jayla, Lucy holding each of their hands, swinging between them.

“I didn’t get a chance.”

“Remind me again why you didn’t tell her when you were on your date?”

“Because I’m a dumbass.”

Liam tosses his head back and laughs, and then he slaps me on the back. “Ain’t that the truth?”

I growl, feeling worse than I did before. Fixing this is not going to be easy, and I don’t have a clue where to begin.

Chapter 11

One day it’s gonna get better. It has to

Lina

I roll over for the hundredth time this morning. I’m restless, but I can’t find the energy to drag myself out of bed.

It’s later than I usually sleep in, but I don’t have to be at work until one this afternoon. It’s not like there’s anything good waiting for me if I get up early.

A crash followed by a slur of curses comes from the kitchen. Dad must be up and trying to make himself something to eat. I usually do that, but since I’ve refused to get up, he’s on his own.

I try burying my face under my pillow, but after a few minutes, guilt consumes me. I toss my covers back and sit up. My head feels dizzy and instantly aches. I had another migraine last night that left me sick to my stomach. While I feel much better this morning, I sat up too fast.

I also need to eat something. I went to bed last night without dinner.

Opening the side table drawer, I check the quantity on my prescription. If I don’t get too many migraines, I have enough meds to last me another month. Maybe two if I’m lucky.

That would require me to reduce stress and eat a healthier diet.

My doctor’s words taunt me.

I’ve always been prone to headaches, but my migraines are primarily brought on by poor diet and stress. Two things I can’t really do anything about.

Another crash has my feet moving. Whatever Dad is doing, he’s struggling with it.

“Dad! What are you doing?” I ask before I even make it to the kitchen.

I find him standing at the stove with shaking hands. He’s trying to make some oatmeal.

He lets out a low growl and tosses the small packet on the counter. “My damn fingers won’t work. I can’t rip this open.”

“Here, let me.” I take the packet from him, rip it open, and pour it into the waiting bowl on the counter. The tea kettle is on the burner heating, but it’s not quite ready. “Anything else you need while you wait?”

He grumbles something under his breath that I can’t make out and shakes his head.

“Dad, it’s okay.” I rub his back as he turns away from me. “I’m here to help.”

“That’s the problem, Lina. You should be out there living your life. Being young. Instead, you’re stuck here taking care of me. It’s not fair to you.”

“I’m not stuck. I want to take care of you.”

He growls and waves his hand at me as if he thinks my words are bullshit. They are and they aren’t. I do feel stuck. He’s not wrong about that. Even if I wanted to move, I can’t afford to live anywhere else but here. But that has very little to do with him. I’d stay and care for him even if I did have somewhere else to go.

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