by Cole Gibsen
Hank’s tail thumps harder.
“Okay.” Grabbing the puppy, I open the car door and set him on the grass outside. After sniffing around for several moments, he finds a spot to relieve himself and I use one of the plastic bags at a nearby dispenser to clean it up. Afterward, I settle onto the brittle bench of a nearby picnic table and watch the travelers and truck drivers drift in and out of the building, as Hank chews on a stick he’s found in the grass.
Any minute now Aunt Karen will call, and she’ll know what to do. I glance at the clock on my phone. Ten minutes pass, then ten more. The sky darkens to a tangerine orange as the sun begins to sink into the horizon. Anxiety twists ropes around my chest, pulling tighter with each passing minute. I cannot stay here. I won’t spend another night in rest stop.
A sick feeling rolls through my stomach as I consider my options. I’ve been in this situation before, and there’s really only one way out. I have to do something I hate doing more than anything.
I have to beg.
A man and a woman, both appearing to be in their sixties, pull up in a nice-looking Buick. They make their way up the walkway toward the bathrooms. I stand, my stomach a knot of anxiety as I approach. “Excuse me.”
They stop. The woman looks at me with mild curiosity and the man with annoyance. “I’m so sorry to bother you. You see, I’m on my way to visit my aunt and I’m nearly out of gas. To make matters worse, I forgot my wallet and have no money.” I cringe inwardly at the lie, but in my experience, people are more forgiving of forgetfulness than homelessness. “I was wondering if you have change you can spare—”
“No!” The man practically shouts before I can finish. He grabs his wife by the arm and pulls her into the building.
I exhale loudly and wander back to the bench. This is how it goes sometimes—my spirit crushed with each rejection for hours on end, and without a dollar to show for it. Exhaustion sinks through me like lead, weighing me down. I drop onto the bench and wait for the next person to approach.
Funny how, only hours ago, I was happy. For the first time in my life I had a plan, I had a place to call my own, and I had Lane. Now I have none of those things and my future is as uncertain as it ever was.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I snatch it, my chest swelling with hope until I read the caller.
Lane.
For just a second I consider answering it, telling him I made a huge mistake, and begging him to let me come back. I swallow those words deep inside me, where they mix with the pieces of my broken heart. I’ve come too far to be weak now.
Hank looks up from his pile of splinters—all that remains of his former stick—as if to question my decision.
“We’re going to wait for Aunt Karen to call,” I tell him. “We’ll be fine.”
He chuffs and lowers his head between his paws.
What did I think? How can I expect him to believe me when I don’t quite believe it myself? With a sigh, I lean back against the table, stare into the darkening sky, and pray for a miracle.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lane
Muttering a curse under my breath, I hang up the phone and set it in my truck’s cup holder. I honestly don’t know why I bothered to call—maybe I just needed one final thing to convince myself.
She’s really and truly gone.
I stare out the windshield, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. The urge to drive after Ash is overwhelming, but I don’t have the first idea where to look. She could be at a friend’s house, on her way to Atlanta, or parked on the side of the road like I found her the night I gave her the apartment.
My stomach churns at the idea she could be alone, God knows where. What if something happens to her? What if her car breaks down? What if someone messes with her?
I shake my head, as if I can dislodge the ideas from my brain. If only Dad’s cop blood didn’t flow inside my veins. I can’t protect everyone, especially when they want neither my protection, nor me. I’ve been left before. I should know how this works.
You weren’t enough, a voice whispers in my head. I turn the key in the ignition and crank up the stereo in the hopes the music will drown out the words circling through my head.
She said she wouldn’t leave, but when she learned the truth about you, you weren’t enough to make her stay.
Gritting my teeth, I slam my palm against the steering wheel. “Damn it!” The word is a growl, ripping from my throat. A woman walking her poodle several yards away looks up, startled. Hell if I care what she thinks, or what anyone thinks for that matter. I’m done.
At the very least, I should be happy things fizzled out between Ash and me before they could get started. Hell, her leaving is probably a blessing. I mean, if my kid is a deal breaker for her, then it’s a deal breaker for me. My kid is fucking awesome, and if Ash can’t see that, or won’t bother to see it, then she doesn’t deserve to be in my life.
So that’s that.
Putting my truck into gear, I pull out onto the road with my windows down and music blaring. I’m not really sure where I’m headed, but at the corner I turn right, making sure to go the opposite direction Ash went.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ashlyn
The rest stop’s overhead lights flick on as soon as I end my call with Aunt Karen. I exhale, but it does little to alleviate the knots of tension wound into my chest. “She can send us money,” I tell Hank, who’s too busy biting the top off a dandelion to listen, “but we won’t get it until tomorrow. So until I figure out what to do, it looks like we’re stuck here.”
I hate the idea of spending another night at a rest stop. Unfortunately, without enough money for a hotel, I have no choice but to sleep in my car. Cops will harass you if they catch you sleeping in store parking lots, so it looks like my options for the night are limited.
Hank sneezes, shooting dandelion tuffs across the grass. At least one of us isn’t worried.
My head grows heavy, filled to the brim with rushing thoughts. I drop it in my hand and lean against the park bench. I should be happy to have my problem partially solved. In the morning, I’ll find the closest Western Union and Aunt Karen will wire me enough gas money to for the drive to Atlanta. With any luck, Hank and I will be there this time tomorrow.
Instead of feeling relieved by this, my stomach churns at the thought. I can’t help but mourn all I’ll be leaving behind—my apartment, my job, Emily…Lane. Thinking of how things ended between us, and how I’ll never see him again, does something to me. I feel the weight of his absence like an anchor deep inside me—or maybe it’s a lifeline.
A line to the poem I’d written earlier today pushes to the front of my mind.
The second he lets go, that’s when I’ll truly be lost.
And now I am just that—so fucking lost. And it’s not because he let go, but because I made him.
An ache gnaws inside my heart and I mash the heels of my palms against my eyes even though my tears have long dried.
If leaving is the right thing, why does it feel like I’m being ripped to pieces?
“S’cuz me.”
With a startled gasp, I glance up to find a man standing in front of me. His dingy T-shirt is pulled tight over his protruding belly, and his gray hair is pulled back into a greasy ponytail. He smiles, revealing nicotine-stained teeth. “I heard you were in need of some gas money.”
A tremor of unease ripples down my spine, putting my hair on end. “Not anymore. I got it taken care of.”
“Hmm. You sure about that?” The guy brings a hand to his face and scratches the stubble around his chin. “You’re about fifty miles away from the next real city. Say I give you twenty bucks? That should be more than enough for you to make it.” He pulls a wadded bill from his pocket and waves it in front of me. “What do you say?”
With a knot in my throat, I cringe away from the dirty bill. “No thanks.”
Laughing, he tucks it inside his shirt. “You drive a hard bargain, girly. How about I double that a
mount and you do something for me. That’s my truck over there.” He motions to a silver big rig in the semi lot. “You come on over, give me a little attention, and I’ll give you forty.”
“What?” I recoil, climbing over the top of the table in an attempt to put as much distance between us as possible. Abandoning the dandelions, Hank scrambles to his feet. “Get away from me, you pervert!”
The trucker holds his hands up. “Easy, girly. No use getting all uptight. I’m not talking sex—just a blowjob. What do you say?”
“I say you’re a fucking pervert, and if you don’t get away from me this second, I’m going to call 911!” I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up like a weapon.
He makes a face. “Why do you have to be a bitch like that? I’m just trying to help you out.”
He takes a step toward me.
A deep rumble emanates from Hank’s chest and his lips curl back, revealing all his teeth.
“Whoa!” The guy staggers back. “Get your dog under control.”
“He is,” I answer. Snarling, Hank moves forward and I make no move to stop him. “Get the hell away from me.”
“Fine. Whatever.” The trucker slowly walks backward until his boots hit the sidewalk. From there, he turns and jogs back to his truck. Only when the perv’s locked inside his cab does Hank stop growling. Still, his eyes never leave the truck, and my muscles refuse to unwind.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Hank doesn’t move, his body rigid. It’s then I notice how much he’s grown in the last couple of weeks, how the chubby puppy has become lost to the lean dog before me. I can’t help but mourn for the innocent baby he was—the puppy who loved everyone, until he was kicked this afternoon. Now, because of me, he knows the world holds people who will hurt him.
This realization reaffirms my decision to leave. Would the same thing happen to Harper if I stayed? How much pain would I bring to her life just by existing in it? I won’t risk her innocence to find out.
No. As much as it feels like I’m ripping my own heart out, the best thing I can do for Lane and Harper’s lives is to leave them behind.
I glance down at the phone still clutched in my white-knuckled grip. Thanks to the trucker, I can’t stay here. I scroll through my numbers until I find the name I’m searching for. I can only hope she answers, that despite all the things I’ve lost tonight, I still have a friend.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Lane
My phone’s ringtone cuts through the music blasting from my truck speakers, thanks to Bluetooth. A glance at my dash shows my sister’s number on the screen. Grinding my teeth together, I hesitate a second before answering. I know Em’s going to want all the details of what happened between Ash and me, and that’s not really something I feel like rehashing at the moment.
Still, the responsible father in me can’t not answer if there’s a chance my daughter might need me.
“Lane?” Em’s worried voice filters through the speakers and fills the cab.
“Yeah?” I check my rearview mirror before switching lanes. I’ve been driving aimlessly now for more than an hour, circling the city in hopes of finding a fraction of peace between the asphalt and diesel fumes. But the open roadway that usually calms my nerves fills me with growing unease.
“I know where she is,” Em says.
My chest pulls tight. “Yeah, me too. She’s probably a third of the way to Atlanta by now. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
Em’s quiet a minute before answering. “Yeah. Okay. But she’s nowhere near Atlanta. She’s stranded at a rest stop about forty minutes south. She ran out of gas and called me for help. I thought maybe you could—”
“No.” I grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles burn. “Whatever you’re thinking, just no. I can’t get involved. We…I…we’re just done. If you need to help her, I’ll come get Harper. You at your apartment?”
“Really, Lane? You’re just going to let her get away without a fight?”
“She asked me to let her go.” The image of Ash naked and tethered surfaces in my mind. I’m yours. The memory of her voice swirls like honey inside my head and I shudder. “I promised her if she asked me to let her go, I would.”
Emily snorts. “Fine. So you let her go. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell her how you feel.”
I shake my head even though I know she can’t see me.
“Honestly, Em. I don’t know how the fuck I feel.”
“That’s bullshit. I’m an outside party and even I can tell that you’re crazy about her, and she’s crazy about you. She’s freaked right now. She told me on the phone about her stepdad showing up and then Harper—”
“Exactly,” I cut in. “Harper is my world. If Ashlyn can’t handle that, she has no place in my life.”
Emily gives an impatient sigh. “That’s not fair. You’re asking this poor girl to be understanding when you haven’t exactly been upfront with the information.”
I say nothing, ignoring the gnawing of guilt inside my gut.
“Besides,” she continues, “Ash isn’t leaving because she can’t share you with your daughter, she’s leaving because she doesn’t want to hurt her.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense. How would she hurt her?”
“I think she’s worried she’s not good enough to be a role model or something. I’m not really sure. That’s why I think you should go and talk to her.”
“Em, that’s really not a good idea.” Even as I say the words, I can feel my resolve cracking. Every muscle in my body, every nerve, every cell is screaming for me to find her and take her home where she belongs. Because fuck if I don’t feel it in my heart—she belongs with me.
“Really, Lane? Because isn’t this rescuing shit kinda your thing? Isn’t it what you live for?”
I remember Dad’s face in the moments before his death, so pale and tired beneath the oxygen mask. For the first time in my life, his iron grip was limp in my own. Take care of the family. Even though he didn’t have the strength to voice the words himself, they were there, written in his eyes.
Take care of the family.
And Ash is mine. I felt it the second our eyes first locked, and something long asleep inside me finally stirred. I want her like no one else. From the moment I carried her out of the party, I knew I had to protect her. When I grabbed her keys to lure her inside the apartment, I knew I had to take care of her, and when she gave herself to me and we came together, melting beneath the sheets, I knew I had to love her.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, I run another through my hair as I search the roadway for an exit. I wish I could snap my fingers and evaporate the distance between us. I was an idiot to let her get this far.
“Where’s she at, Em?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks, her voice suddenly coy.
“You know why. I’m going to get her and bring her home.”
What should have been a forty-minute drive I make in thirty. Risky, because Dad was a city cop, so I don’t have any state trooper friends to get me out of a ticket. But fuck if I care. What’s a couple hundred dollars when Ash is involved?
I take the exit ramp to the rest stop, my muscles loosening when I catch sight of the blue Jetta parked under the streetlight. Instead of parking next to her, I decide to park at the opposite end of the lot so my diesel’s rumble doesn’t give me away. I can use the extra moments to think—especially when I haven’t figured out what to say to her, or how to convince her to come back with me.
I’m not exactly an expert on getting women to stick around.
The muscles in my neck are sore from clenching my jaw the entire way over here. What if this is all for nothing? What if I’m not enough to make her stay?
As I approach her car, I pass two truckers hanging around outside their cabs, smoking. I catch a snippet of their conversation.
“—sweet little piece of ass,” one of them says.
“Yeah,” the other
agrees. “But rigid as a two-by-four. I bet a good pounding would make her pliable.”
They both chuckle.
I freeze. A rush of heat rolls through me. I’m not sure how I know, but I’m certain they’re talking about Ash.
Fingers curling into fists, I turn and stride toward the men. They don’t notice me until I’m almost upon them. I don’t know if they can feel the anger radiating off of me, or if it’s because I’m staring at them with murder in my eyes, but both men exchange uneasy glances after I stop in front of them.
“You guys talking about that girl in the blue car over there?” I motion to Ash’s car with a jut of my chin.
“Don’t bother,” the one with the beer belly says, extinguishing his stub on the bottom of his boot. “She’s real uptight. I tried to help her out, offered her some money, but apparently she’s a stuck up bitch.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve got the guy’s shirt twisted in my hands. I slam him against the side of his truck with a satisfying thwack. “Don’t you dare talk about her that way. You so much as look at her, or any girl for that matter, and I find out about it? I’ll beat you down to within an inch of your life, got that?”
“Easy, man,” the guy behind me says. He touches my shoulder and I release my grip before whirling around.
The second guy is quicker. He jumps out of my reach before I can grab for him.
“The same goes for you,” I say.
The guy holds his hands up. “All right, man. Whatever you say. We don’t want any trouble.”
“And you think any girl does? Especially from the likes of you?” I stalk toward him, my hands knotted into tight fists.
“Jeez, buddy. Just take it easy. What’s it to you, anyway?”
I raise my fist. “Not an it. A she. And she’s everything.”
My muscles twinge from the strain of holding back, so badly do I want to plow my fist into these guys’ faces to keep them from looking at another girl ever again. The thought is so enticing I almost let go.