Page 32 of Truck Stop Titan

Coffee fumes perked my senses, and I lifted the limbs, inching off the bed.

The clock read 6:38 AM. Moriah was gone. A fresh pot of coffee sat on the counter, still steaming.

God bless that woman.

I stretched. Poured a cup. Made my way to the window.

Blinding bursts of light danced off the lake’s surface, forcing me to look away.

A small figure stood on the beach, arms wrapped around her middle, a soft breeze blowing her skirt into a tangle around her legs. The sweater she wore hid her figure, but I knew what was underneath that bulky fabric, and hell if it didn’t give me a certain pleasure having that knowledge to store away and revisit as I pleased.

Moriah walked closer to the water, then sat, chin lifted to the sun.

I looked over my shoulder at the sleeping princess. She hadn’t budged.

I poured another cup of coffee and headed, barefoot, down three flights of stairs, out the door, then across the lawn, my heart banging my chest like an angry, caged gorilla.

“Hey.”

Chin to shoulder, she smiled up at me, content and sleepy. “Good morning.” She stared for a moment. “So, is it Dane or Trailer? I’m not sure what to call you.”

“Dane,” I grunted. I fucking hated Trailer and all that nickname stood for.

I handed her the cup, then planted my ass next to her in the wet sand. “It’seffin’cold out here,” I teased.

“The air is so crisp. I love it.” She took a healthy swig of coffee. “Mim still sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

“One of us should be there when she wakes up.”

“We’ll go back in a minute.” I couldn’t tear my gaze from those damn freckles. Was there such a thing as a freckle fetish? “What are you doing out here alone at the crack of dawn?”

“Got a phone call.” Moriah lifted her cell and then dropped it back in the sand, a sad laugh escaping her lips. She stared, gaze aimed across the lake, shook her head, then rubbed her free hand over her eyes.

“What is it?”

“I no longer have a job.”

“The fuck?”

“Budget cuts. Great timing, huh?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Not sure. Not yet. I have a little savings, enough to get by for a few months. The job market isn’t great in Shelbyville, and I don’t have a clue what’s gonna happen with Mim.” Her face crumpled. “And I still have to wrap up my mother’s affairs, and oh God,” she moaned. “I haven’t even had time to mourn my sister. And Matthew hasn’t called me once. Not once. You would think after four years together he would at least call. I mean, I wasn’t expecting him to beg me to stay or anything but…” She turned to look at me, those weary eyes glistening, the dam about to break. “Aren’t I at least worth a phone call?”

Jesusfuckingchrist I couldn’t hear another word. I dropped my cup and wrapped my arms around her head and shoulders, pulling her against me. She’d lost her mother. Her sister. Her boyfriend. Her job. And now she was saddled with a child who came with her own heavy baggage. Yeah. I was clueless. Helpless. Had nothing to offer but a shoulder to cry on. What else could I do but let her cry? Better in private with me than in front of Mim or anyone else.

That’s what she did, sobbing softly, using me as a shield.

I watched the waves licking the shore, my nose buried in her messy hair, and waited for her cue. When she lifted a hand to rub her face, I released my hold. The damn woman wrapped an arm around my middle and squeezed before sitting straight again.

“Thank you.” She wiped under her nose with her sleeve and shot a glance over my shoulder toward the house. “I can’t let them see me like this. They can’t know that I’m unemployed, or that my life is a mess. They might decide I’m not qualified to take care of my niece.”

“They’re good people,” was all I could offer. “They wouldn’t do that.”

She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But please, for now, can we keep my current situation between the two of us?”

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