Page 57 of Truck Stop Titan

Moriah smiled.

Jesus. Fuck. Those ladies had my guts all twisted.

My chest collapsed, that large muscle inside crumbling into large, sharp chunks. The room shrank around me. I handed Moriah the bottle, trusting she knew what to do. “You good if I disappear for a bit?”

She tilted her head, her hair falling over her shoulder, soft and touchable. “You okay?”

My throat clogged. I nodded. “Need to get some air.”

“We’re good here.”

I left through the back hallway, avoiding the grief-stricken family, and made my way to the garage. I kicked at the dirt where James had fallen, where I’d pumped his chest, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Where I’d begged him not to give up. Not to die.

A socket wrench lay by the front tire, taunting me. I scooped the tool off the ground and whacked my head on the rear-view mirror on the way up.

“Fuck!” That shit hurt. But that blast of pain was what I needed. The fuse lit. I screamed at the truck. Threw two punches at the door, then attacked the hood with the wrench. I beat that old beater to shit, cursing the damn thing, giving her the brunt of all my rage.

When I couldn’t lift my arms for another strike, or pull in a full breath, I dropped my ass to the ground, scooted under the engine, and continued where I’d left off, fixing that damn engine, like I’d promised James I would.

“Damn allergies,” I mumbled, blinking the moisture from my eyes.

Moriah

I SWIPED THE MOISTUREfrom my eyes. “I need a couple of days to consider your offer.” Blink. Blink. I would not cry.

“Take as much time as you need. We look forward to hearing from you.”

“Thank you.” I hoped to God the nice woman couldn’t hear the tremble in my voice.

I pushed the little red button on my phone, my thumb bending at an odd angle with the force of pressure. One deep breath. Then another. “What the actual eff?” I asked no one, tossing my cell on the bed.

Mim bounced out of the bathroom, hairbrush in hand, and bee-lined to her suitcase.

Slumping into the chair, I bent to grab my shoes, then stared at the floor, my mind a swirling vortex of hows, whys, and what-ifs.

A job offer. Monday through Friday. 401k. Full benefits. Starting salary? Twice what I made last year.

“What the eff?” I mumbled again, slumped forward, elbows to knees, face in my palms. The offer was beyond perfect.

Problem was, the job was not in Shelbyville. The job was in Whisper Springs with the Rossi Corporation. I hadn’t applied to any jobs outside of Shelbyville. Meaning, one of the Slades or the Rossis were responsible. I mean, seriously, who offers someone a job sight unseen?

Too good to be true? Without a doubt. Was I foolish to consider the offer? Ugh. How could I make a rational decision considering the upheaval I’d already faced?

Or could I? Could I? How could I?

No. No. I needed to get Mim home and settled. Then I could think straight. Make the right decision for both of us.

Right. Home. Why did that word sound so foreign? Taste so bitter?

“Ready, Little Lady?” I asked, shoving my feet into my Vans and pushing to stand.

Mim didn’t look up, but she nodded, then pulled the handle on her mini suitcase and dragged it toward the door, her hair bouncing in defiant waves, her chin held high and brave.

I glanced around the room, checking for any items we might have left behind, then grabbed my own luggage and headed out, down the long hallway, then the stairs, out the back door, and around to the front of the house, where the yellow cab waited.

Purposely avoiding the family, knowing they were in no mindset for goodbyes, I left a letter of condolence on the kitchen counter, knowing that would be sufficient considering the circumstances. The family needed their privacy to grieve.

I had also slipped a note under Dane’s door, explaining I thought it better to avoid putting Mim through another round of farewells. So, everything wrapped up, I buckled my niece in the cab, tucked our things in the trunk, then rounded the car to settle in for the long drive to the airport.

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