Page 38 of Truck Stop Tempest

Like a lovesick jackass, I waited.

Eight thirty passed, still no Tuuli. Eight forty-five, the dining room lights went dark. Eight-fifty, the back door opened, and swear to my maker, my heart skipped three beats when Charlie and some guy I’d never seen before appeared. No fucking Tuuli.

Charlie shook the guy’s hand then came my way, holding a knife bag over his head, like that would protect the giant from the downpour. He ducked to look in my window. “Hey, Tito. Need something?”

“No. I’m waiting for Tuuli. Thought I’d drive her home.”

“She’s not here, buddy. Left ten minutes after her shift started, said she was sick.”

That nasty, aching boom in my chest amplified. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I started to roll up my window, then paused. “Hey, Charlie. Who’s the new guy?”

“That handsome dude is my nephew, Eli. He’s joining the crew. Summer’s coming. Need all the help we can get.” He turned and ran to the driver’s side of his Tundra.

I glared at the building until the buzz in my head cleared. Then I drove until I was parked in front of 1415 Apricot Lane. Fuck. What a sap.

Lights from the television screen flashed through the thin curtains of the front window. I caught movement, the shape of a figure settling on the couch. Tuuli, I guessed, judging by the shape and size.

I convinced myself she was okay. Waited a while longer. Waited for the television screen to go dark. Watched her form through the curtain rise from the chair and pass into the next room. She turned off the lights, and, I assumed, went to bed.

I forced myself to drive home and do the same.

The next morning, I broke my promise about giving her space and settled into my usual table at The Stop for breakfast. If she complained, I’d simply say I was hungry and leave it at that. Only, Tuuli didn’t greet me with her usual bright smile.

Slade came my way with a coffee pot and two mugs. She then scooted into the seat across from me. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I grunted, not caffeinated enough for Slade’s level of perky. “Tuuli still sick?”

Slade filled my cup first, then her own. “Haven’t heard from her. Called the number we have on file, but it’s been disconnected.”

Fuck.

“You haven’t heard from her?” Slade asked, cup held to her lips.

“No. Why would I?”

“Because, grouchy goose, I’ve seen the two of you together. I know you’ve been driving her home, and I know you don’t grace us with your presence every day because of Charlie’s cooking.”

I adored Slade. Was happier than hell that she and Tango had found each other again after years apart, but I sure as shit wasn’t about to open up to her about my issues. “Afraid you’re sorely mistaken, doll. There’s nothing between me and the little bunny.” Fuck. I realized my slip the second it left my lips.

“Ha!” She pointed at me. “You’ve given her a nickname. You’re smitten.”

I couldn’t look at her face, all proud and beaming, so I stared out the window and tapped a beat on my coffee mug with my thumbs. “Who says smitten anymore?”

“I do. And trust me, that girl is smitten, too.”

When I didn’t respond, Slade continued, “Want to know how I know?”

I didn’t. Not really. The conversation was awkward enough.

“She’s given you a nickname, too.”

That got my attention. Tuuli had never called me anything other than Tito. Well, except for that one time…

I cringed when Slade said, “Grim” at the same time the word played in my head.

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