Page 29 of Truck Stop Titan

Little One was in good hands. Moriah? A hot mess of trembling bones and devastation. Whatever was about to go down needed to happen in private. I grabbed her hand and led her around the corner to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind us.

“You?” I grabbed tissues from the shelf. “This is fuckin’ crazy. God damn crazy.”

Snatching the offered box, she parked her ass on the toilet, then leaned forward, hiding behind her hands, shoulders bobbing.

Shit.

Dropping to a squat at her feet, I whispered, “Let it go, gorgeous.” I gripped her neck, pulling her close. “Let it out. Then pull yourself together. That little girl needs you at one-hundred-percent. Whatever you need to purge, do it here. Do it now.”

The woman sobbed in my arms, wetting my shirt, fingers curled into my waist, her full weight falling against me.

A good three minutes passed before she drew a long, hitched breath, then blew it out nice and slow.

“Oh, God. I can’t do this.” She pulled away, her hands moving to my shoulders, red, swollen eyes searching mine. “I can’t take any more.”

“Take any more of what?” My words came clipped. Flaming daggers pierced my chest, making my blood pump hot. Wasn’t sure I wanted her answer, because it sounded to me like she was giving up on her niece, and that was un-fucking-acceptable.

“I buried my mom less than a week ago. That same day, I learned my sister was dead and that I had a niece nobody knew existed. Then I met this amazing guy the same day I dumped my boyfriend. Then I met this gorgeous, broken little girl. And she’s the only family I have left, and she doesn’t want me, but she wants this man who’s a stranger, who sings to her, and makes her feel safe, but who’s going to leave. And this guy who saved her happens to be the man I can’t stop thinking about, even though I believed I was never going to see him again. Then I leave, to clear my head, and this child who I love more than life, who hasn’t spoken a word to me, tells another stranger her name. The very name my sister used to call me. And it’s all too much.”

Okay. Fuck. That was some shit. I was about to say so, until she slapped my chest.

“And what the eff? Seriously. You? Of all people? You’re the man who saved her life? Oh, God.” Her face crumpled again. “You gave me my niece. You saved her.” She wrapped her hands around my neck and dotted my face with wet kisses. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I can never repay you.”

Salty tears mingled with more kisses.

A few hiccups followed.

“Trailer.” She cupped my face, her nails scratching through my beard. “Tucker said I couldn’t know who you were, that it was dangerous for me to know. Is that true?”

Fuck.

Lying was not an option. She deserved the truth. “Yeah. It’s true. I’m not the kind of guy you can afford to be mixed up with.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And I’m not going to help you understand. I’m leaving as soon as that little nugget is good to go. Not gonna soil what happened between us with the dirty details of my life.”

“All right.” She nodded, still working her fingers through my facial hair like a nervous tic. “I won’t pry. I owe you that much.”

“Good.” That was too easy. She was too God damned sweet. “You okay now?”

“Yeah.” She gutted me with a bright smile.

After helping her stand, I offered, “I’m sorry about your mom and your sister. Shitty you’ve had to deal with those cards on your own.” I swiped a tear off her cheek…and… What the fuck? I didn’t do that shit.

To save face, I cupped between her legs, squeezing hard because, yeah, that was more like it. “Not sorry about the boyfriend, though. Not one fuckin’ bit.”

# # #

The aroma of slow-cooked roast perforated the walls, twisting my guts something fierce, challenging my decision to stew alone rather than join everyone downstairs. Family dinners were not my thing. I appreciated the invitation, but sharing a table with Pretty Boy? Recipe for disaster. And after my run-in with Moriah, the camaraderie would set my nerves into hyperdrive.

We’d been under the same damn roof for days.

What were the odds?

Hungry, and too damn exhausted to contemplate the turn of events, I sprawled on the frilly bed, flipped through the channels, landing on an old episode ofFast N’ Loud, and waited to see if I’d be called again to servitude.

Not that putting Little One to sleep was much of a chore. Hell. Favorite part of my day, to be honest.

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