Page 5 of Lovingly Restored

The warm, dry cab is heavenly, but I shudder at the thought of what my truck would have done to that car and the woman inside it. Water has forced its way through the lining of my coat, soaking the thick henley beneath. When I pull the waffle knit fabric away from my torso, it suctions back to my abs. I glance at the time. 9:02 p.m. How long will a tow truck take at this hour? I didn’t think that through. She stands next to her car, shoulders hunched, cell phone by her ear.

If you’re going to do something, do it right.The words of my grandparents find their way into my mind, and I know I’m not going anywhere yet. I sigh, my coat bunched around my elbows. When I shrug it back on, the sodden fabric of the collar touches my bare neck and I cringe.

She watches me approach while speaking into her phone.

“Get in the truck,” I interrupt, not having the patience to say it any nicer than that.

A drop of rain falls off the tip of her nose when she looks up, processing my words. Her eyes narrow, sceptical of me and the authenticity of my offer.

“I d-don’t th-think so.”

She’s freezing, and I almost left her here because I had a shitty workday.

I hold my palms up. “What are they even saying?”

She tugs the zipper of her coat towards her chin, but it has nowhere left to go.

“Um, it’ll be a couple of hours.”

Oh, hell no.

“Hang up.”

I’m incredulous that she would stay out there for a minimum of two hours on an unlit road, in such harsh weather alone. She’s tough.

“I’ll wait in my car. I can take care of it myself. Go.” She waves me off like I’m a nuisance instead of her last resort.

Leave her where another car could come by? One that might not see her until it’s too late?

“I’m not going to do that. You can’t run the engine for the heat, and you’ll freeze. I’ll give you a lift home.”

She chews her full bottom lip before squeezing her eyes shut in resignation.

“Let’s go, lady.” I turn, knowing she’ll follow because I’m her best option.

“Lady?”

“What? Are you not a lady? C’mon!” I clap my wet hands together twice.

Clapping at a woman? Mummo, my grandma, would be livid.

I wait at the passenger side, opening the door to cancel out my rudeness.

“How gentlemanly for a man who restrained me a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, because you’ve been a total angel out here tonight. Do you want a hand? It’s a big step up.” I gesture to the runner.

She rolls her eyes with practiced precision. “I think I can handle climbing into a vehicle.”

“Suit yourself.”

I walk away, desperate to get in and warm up. Mild coastal climate or otherwise, you can only be soaked for so long before it feels like the Arctic. By the time I hear her cry of surprise and whip around, she’s already hit the ground, and it’s too late for me to do a damn thing about it. I sigh, bowing my head. Why couldn’t she have just accepted my help? She’s a pile on the ground, sitting in a muddy puddle that seems conveniently placed for her landing pleasure. Tipping her head up to the dark sky, she slams her palms into the shallow water beneath her in a show of pure frustration and screams. I raise my eyebrows at the rawness of her release, unsure of what to do next. No judgement from me over her tantrum. She looks pathetic in wet, muddy clothes, and she’ll be nursing a sore ass in the morning after that fall. Sinking down onto my haunches, my wet jeans stretch uncomfortably against my frigid skin.

“Can I help you into the truck now? While you’re still in one piece?” I keep my voice low, trying to soothe her.

“I’m not sure I am.” She winces, examining her hands. Jagged pieces of gravel cover the heels of her palms.

Her teeth chatter, and her shoulders shake. I extend my arm, and water pours over my hand, down my knuckles to the tips of my fingers. The amber hazards on my truck blink, each flash illuminates her face and reveals a distinct expression.

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