Page 101 of Truck Stop Tempest

I nodded, thankful for the distraction. “Im worried about my mom. She isn’t answering her phone.”

“Well.” She pushed past me, not waiting for an invitation. “You don’t have to worry alone.” Like she knew my soul, Slade pulled me against her, hugging tight and fierce, giving exactly what I needed.

God, she was an awesome boss. And landlord.

And friend.

“My life is such an ugly, embarrassing mess,” I mumbled into her shirt.

She didn’t respond. But she did drop her arms and scoot me toward the kitchen, where she proceeded to make us each a mug of coffee.

I fell into the chair.

She scooted into the seat opposite mine. “Let me tell you about ugly and embarrassing…”

The coffee warmed my insides, while Slade spilled her guts across the small kitchen table. She gave me the details of her upbringing, and how she came to own the diner at such a young age, how Tango had broken her heart years ago, and the desperate things she had done to protect Rocky. She spoke mostly about forgiveness and fighting for the people you love.

There was no judgment. No pity. I spilled my secrets, too. The abuse. The boys. I showed her my tattoo. Told her the truths Jonas had unearthed about my mother and her kidnapping.

“I’m sorry.” Slade reached a hand across the table, covering mine, and giving it a squeeze. “Have you talked to your mother about any of this?”

“I can’t get ahold of her. I’ve been calling and calling. Leaving messages,” I said, choking back a sob. “She’s probably still mad that I kicked her out of the diner.”

Now that Jeremy was dead, I feared she would be fair game to the men of the church. I had to tamper those thoughts or I’d lose my mind.

“I need to know if she’s okay.”

Slade glanced at the television. “By the looks of things, nobody is getting anywhere near that property for a while.” She snapped her head my direction, eyes big and bright. “I bet Tito could track her phone.”

My stomach sank. “I don’t know where he is. He hasn’t answered my calls either.”

“Oh,” she said, slumping into her chair. “Tango was up pacing all night. Said Tito was being a jackass but wouldn’t give me details.” Slade chewed her thumbnail, then smacked the table. “What about Roger? He might know something.”

Why hadn’t I thought of that?

I tapped my cell and pulled up the one number I never thought I’d have to call.

Roger Caldwell answered immediately. “Tuuli.”

My voice broke, “Roger.”

“Everything okay? Did he hurt you?”

Punch to the gut. “No. God, no.” Why would he ask that?

He cleared his throat. A child laughed in the background. A squeal. More giggles.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late. It’s just—”

“You’re watching the news,” he cut in, his voice apologetic.

“I’m worried about my mom. She isn’t answering my calls. I was hoping you knew someone, or maybe you could…I don’t know.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. I’ve got buddies at the Rockypoint Precinct. Hold tight, though. They’ve got their hands full right now. I might not know anything until morning.”

Morning was too far away, but what choice did I have?

“Thank you, Roger.”

---