Page 41 of Truck Stop Titan

He hopped to his feet and stood by Mim’s side. “Yes. We talk about it in school.”

“Good.”

He took Mim’s hand and stepped closer to her. Damn if that move didn’t make my chest ache.

“Moriah does not do that shit.”

Rocky gasped.

I winced. “Sorry. I shouldn’t cuss around you kids.” I paused for a calming breath, and scrambled for the right words. “Your aunt is not an addict. She’s a good woman, and she’s going to take care of you better than your mother ever could. She’s going to keep you safe, and love you, and do everything that your mom should’ve done for you.”

A big tear rolled down the side of her face, gutting me, forcing me to curl my arms around her small frame and pull her close.

“Moriah got sick, but it’s not the same, Little One. I need you to nod, let me know you understand.”

She did, thank fuck, her cheek moving against my neck. I curled my face into her head and whispered, “And anyone tries to hurt you again, I’ll kill them. Got me?”

Deep down, I knew speaking that way to a child was inappropriate on every level. But Mim had lived a thousand horrible lives in her few years on Earth. She’d heard worse. She’d survived worse. She needed the truth, no pretty words, no shallow promises. And fuck. What had I just done?

Moriah headed our way, pale, but a smile pasted on her face regardless. She raised a hand to me in greeting.

I turned Mim in my arms, urging her to face her aunt. “See? She’s fine. She probably ate too much ice cream last night.”

The little girl relaxed under my hands.

Moriah joined us in the grass, sitting cross-legged.

“How’s your tummy?” Rocky asked.

“Much better. Thank you.” Moriah plucked a blade of grass out of the earth and twisted it between her fingers. “Eggs just gross me out, really bad.”

Rocky laughed, then proceeded to tell us stories about kids puking in school, all of them disgusting, all of them making Mim’s body shake in silent laughter.

Moriah, however, turned three different shades of green in a two-minute period of time.

“Rocky. How about you and Mim go see if any of those cookies are ready to eat. I’m starving.”

“Yeah!”

That was all it took. The kids ran toward the house. Moriah turned and dry heaved into the grass.

“What the fuck, gorgeous?”

I struggled to my feet, made my way to her side.

One more gag, and she stood, turning to look at me. “Oh God. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“What’s happening here?”

Moriah took a deep breath. Blew it out nice and slow. Splayed a hand over her stomach. “Stress. That’s all.”

“Stress?”

She nodded.

“Bullshit.”

“I’ve always had a sensitive stomach. This happened when my dad died, and when my mom was first diagnosed with cancer. It’s just how my body reacts to extreme stress. It’ll pass.”

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