Page 58 of Truck Stop Titan

I reached out to pull the door closed.

“What the fuck, Moriah?” Dane grabbed my hand and yanked me out of my seat, slamming the door behind me. “Seriously?” He held up the handwritten letter, shaking the paper in my face. “This is what I get? A note? A dear fucking John letter?”

“Dane.”

He leaned closer, his breath rank with the scent of whiskey, his eyes red-rimmed and heavy-lidded. “I get that you think you have to leave.” He pointed over his shoulder toward the house. “I respect that you’re giving them their space. But Jesus H. Christ, woman, this bullshit?” He rocked on his bare feet, drunk, at six in the morning.

“Dane.”

His face crumpled, and my guts twisted into painful knots.

He opened his mouth. Snapped it shut. Crinkled the letter in his fist, then shoved the wad into his pocket.

I stared at his bare chest, realizing he must’ve been awake when I pushed the note under his door.

I swallowed, wetting my dry throat. “You’re drunk.”

“Rough night.” He grunted.

For all of us, I wanted to say, but I knew better than to argue, or attempt a civilized conversation with an inebriated individual. “I have to go. I’ll call you when we land.”

Hands hung at his sides, he dropped his head back and cussed at the sky. When he met my gaze, he begged, “Don’t go.”

“I have to go.”

“Don’t go.”

“Dane. I—”

“I’m not a good guy.” He took a step back, ducking his head to catch my gaze. “I’ve got shit to offer. No home. No family. Not even a fucking job.” He huffed, shaking his head. “But you stay? You stay here, you own me, body and soul. And I promise you, ain’t nobody gonna hurt you or that little girl, ever. I’ll kill anyone who tries. Ain’t a soul on Earth gonna fight for you like I can. I can give you that. I can give you every dirty fucking piece of me, and I’ll spend every God damned second of every day making sure the two of you are happy.”

Ouch. His words lashed every inch of my heart. Too bad he wouldn’t remember saying them.

I took a step closer. His eyes seemed to lose focus. He swayed, then steadied himself.

“I’ll call you when we land.” I lifted my hands to his chest, raised up on my toes, and kissed his jaw.

“Don’t go.”

“Go to bed, Dane. Sleep it off. We’ll talk later.”

Hardest thing I’d ever done, hands down, was turn my back on that man. But I forced myself to keep moving. I got in the cab, hurried the driver, and didn’t turn back as we drove away.

Tears flowed.

Mim curled her fingers around my pinky, and I looked down to find her eyes wet, too. She offered me a brave smile, and she held my hand, for the first time ever, all the way to the airport.

# # #

“This will be your room, Mim.” I dropped her suitcase on the bed, then squatted to meet her face to face, struggling to ignore the fact that Matthew had not moved his furniture out of my extra bedroom, or any of the rooms for that matter.

“How about we just take it easy today? Tomorrow, we’ll sit down, make a list of the things you need, the food you like, and we’ll go shopping. Sound good?”

That sweet little angel curled her bottom lip between her teeth and fought a smile.

“Would you like to unpack your suitcase first?” I pushed to stand, pulled open one drawer. Slammed it shut. Opened the next. Then the next, biting back all the ugly words. Matthew had not removed any of his “winter” wardrobe. Sweaters. Jeans. Thermals. The man had more clothes than any woman I’d ever met.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Let me empty this dresser quick, then we can put your clothes away.”

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