Page 67 of Truck Stop Titan

“Yes. The point is, you don’t want to be a father. I don’t want to be a single mother, but I have no choice. You have a choice, and you said,hell no. So, the point is, there’s nothing more for us to talk about.”

“The point is, you’ve been pissed all day about me getting that loser out of your house.”

“No. That’s not the point. I mean, yes, it is, well, kind of. The point is, you are violent. I saw that last night. It scared me.”

“You weren’t scared, Moriah. I had eyes on you. You weren’t scared.”

“Okay. Fine. I wasn’t scared.”

“Right. What you are is pissed. You can say it. I get it. You have every right to be angry. I acted like a Neanderthal.”

“You did.”

“Thing is, I’m not sorry. That asshole should’ve respected your wishes. He didn’t and you’re either too nice or too distracted to fight.”

She opened her mouth to argue. Sighed. “Right.”

“So, I fought for you.”

“Dane. Listen. I like you. So much, it scares me. But look at her.” She waved toward the couch. “This is about me being in for the long haul. I have no choice but to be one thousand percent committed to her, to being a parent.”

Crossing her arms around her middle, she dropped her head and whispered, “You do have a choice. You can leave at any time. As soon as the going gets rough, you can bolt.”

“I’m right here.”

“Yes. Now. But…”

“I’m right here.”

“But you’re not ready to be a dad. That’s what she needs.”

“Bullshit. Mim just needs men in her life she can trust.”

Silence. My gorgeous lady dropped her arms, closed her eyes.

“What doyouneed, Moriah?”

“I need time to breathe. Just me and Mim. No Matthew. No you. I need to get my head together, my life back on track.”

Shit. My guts twisted. “What are you saying?”

“You need to go, Dane. Please.” She swiped at her eyes. “Mim has lived through enough violence. I can’t invite more of it into my home, where I’ve promised to keep her safe.”

Moriah needed time to process. I needed time to cool the fuck down. What I didn’t need was a reminder of what a fuck up I was. Lived it. Breathed it. Wore it with pride most of the time. My set of questionable social skills were what kept me alive for damn near thirty years. Of course, a woman not born into the life wouldn’t understand.

Mim understood, her childhood most likely viler than mine.

Mim had witnessed what I’d done to protect her. I’d die for that girl. I’d die for either of them.

Moriah walked into the kitchen, leaving me standing and unsure how to proceed. She returned with the small bag I’d packed and dropped it at my feet.

God damn, if she’d shoved me balls first into a meat grinder it would’ve hurt less. “Now?”

“Yes, please. Now.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Every muscle in my body coiled tight. Not happening. No fucking way.

And what the hell with all the dad talk?

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