Page 59 of Truck Stop Titan

I dashed to the garage, where again I found Matthew’s belongings untouched, and rifled through my gardening shelf until I found my box of heavy-duty trash bags. When I returned, Mim hadn’t budged, but her eyes worried when I began shoving Matthew’s clothes into one of the black bags. “My friend used to live here,” I explained. “He was supposed to move all of his things out. Looks like he hasn’t done that yet.”

Like she was happy to have something to do, Mim came next to me and sweater by sweater, helped me empty the next two drawers.

I wanted to be mad at Matthew. Had every right to be livid, but anger was impossible with my little girl at my side. My little helper. Mine.

God, she was mine.

The reality of the situation hit me hard, a sucker punch to the chest, and despite the challenges that lay ahead, I was happy. So happy, my eyes filled with liquid joy. I tucked that emotion away fast as I could because I didn’t want to ruin our moment.

The last drawer took some elbow grease to open, overstuffed with envelopes and papers, pens of all colors and sizes, a couple of old wallets. Outdated cell phones that he hadn’t recycled. I shoved those items into a bag as well, but what I found tucked in the very back of the drawer stopped me cold.

A little black box.

Of course I looked inside.

Of course the ring was gorgeous. A white gold band boasting a half-circle of petite diamonds complementing a round-cut centerpiece that had to be close to one and a half carats. The giddy girl in me wanted to try it on and dance around the house, catching the diamond’s sparkle under every light source. The woman in me knew I would never wear that ring.

I loved the ring. I loved Matthew. But I was notin lovewith him. Truth be told, he couldn’t be in love with me, either. We were comfortable. We were convenient. But we were not passionate. We were not a dent the wall, destroy the furniture, screw each other until the sun came up kind of couple, and until I’d had that with Dane, I hadn’t known I had it in me. Hadn’t realized I deserved that intense passion. And my, how I craved that feral hunger in Dane’s gaze every time he looked my way.

I could never go back to safe. Never go back to Matthew. Not when my soul had been splashed and stained with all the bright colors that made up Dane Reynolds.

I tossed the box into the bag, tied that sucker tight, then dragged Matthew’s belongings to the garage.

The rest of his things would follow suit, after Mim went to bed because the rest of the day, and every day after, would be about that sweet little girl.

We’d tucked the last of her clothing into the drawer when my cell buzzed.

“Hello?”

“You made it safe?” That deep gravelly voice sent my heart into a mad sprint.

“Yeah,” came out, breathy and desperate.

“How’d she do?”

God, I loved that Mim was on his mind. “She did great. She got the window seat, and she loved flying. I was so proud of her.”

“You good?”

“I’m good.” But I missed him, desperately and painfully.

His breaths came heavy through the phone. “Can I talk to her?”

Swear to the good Lord above, my chest cracked open and kittens and rainbows and all the beautiful things poured out. “Of course you can.”

“Mim.” I turned to find her big wise eyes smiling up at me, as if she knew her favorite man was on the phone. “Dane wants to say hi.”

My cell in her hand, she hurried to the bed, hopped up, and made herself cozy.

Giving them privacy, I headed to my own room to unpack, my spirits darkening when I entered.

Unmade bed.

Dirty clothes on the floor.

Closet door open.

Matthews suits hanging inside.

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