Page 13 of Skid
We talked between bites, sharing little things about ourselves. I told him about Baylor’s love of rabbits and how she hated vegetables. And he told me more about his motorcycleclub and how they treated each other like family. He told me that his father and a couple of the brothers taught him how to work on engines, and there wasn’t much he couldn’t fix if he tried hard enough.
At some point, Baylor held up a fry and offered it to him with a big grin. “You want one?”
“Absolutely.” He took it without hesitation and shoved it in his mouth. “Hey, wait a minute. Why do yours taste better than mine?”
“I don’t know.”
“You sure about that?” he teased. “You didn’t add some bunny magic to ‘em?”
“Bunny-B did it,” she giggled.
“Ah, so the bunny’s behind it. I see how it is.” Skid motioned his head towards the stuffed animal. “He and I are gonna need to have a chat.”
“Bunny is a she.”
“All the better.” He gave her a wink. “I can do some sweet talkin’ and figure out her secret.”
Seeing Baylor giggle at him hit me in a way I didn’t expect. It all came so easy, so natural, with him. There was no judgement. No expectations. Just warmth and kindness, and the low hum of his truck engine keeping us warm.
Overcome with emotion, I looked out the window and whispered, “It’s been a long time since anyone’s done something nice like this.”
“Then, it’s about time someone did,” he answered softly. “And I’m glad that someone was me.”
“Me, too.”
Baylor leaned forward and was smiling ear to ear as she offered him some more fries. Skid gobbled them up, and Baylor’s laughter filled the truck.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt a sense of happiness I’d forgotten existed. It was the kind that didn’t ask for anything in return. Just a man, a little girl and her bunny, and a night that somehow felt like the start of something I didn’t know I’d been missing.
When Skid started gathering our trash, reality edged its way back in.
The tightness in my chest returned as I stared at the front entrance of the hotel. Noting my hesitation, Skid asked, “Something wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” I let out a breath. “I just had a bit of a run-in with a guy earlier. He said some pretty gross stuff, and I really don’t want to face him again.”
“What room number?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll get…”
“What was the room number, Laken?” he pressed.
“108.”
The words barely left my mouth, and he was out of the truck. I called out to him, “Skid! Wait!”
It was too late.
He was already through the front door. I didn’t move. I just sat there stunned. After a moment, reality set in, and along with it came the fear and doubt. I knew nothing about the man in 108. He could hurt Skid or worse. He could kill him. That thought had me scrambling to gather our things.
I was just about to get out of the truck when Skid came back out. He opened my door and announced, “He’s gone, and he won’t be back.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.” His brows furrowed. “If you run into anything like that again, you call me. You don’t ignore it. You don’t hide from it. You call.”
I glanced down at his hand, and my breath hitched when I saw his red, scratched knuckles. He’d fought for me. I couldn’t remember anyone ever doing something like that for me. I wanted to reach over and run my hand over his, making sure he was okay. But I was too overcome with emotion to move.
I nodded, because I couldn’t have spoken even if I tried. He held my gaze for a brief second, and the next thing I knew, he was following us up to the front door. He gave me a warm smile as he said, “Thanks for the dinner date.”
