The Good Guys Box Set: TRUCKER, DANCER, DROPOUT, and A Trucker Wedding

by Jamie Schlosser

  I nodded, rubbing at the skin on my thumb. “That’s the one.”

  The car started to slow and he flipped on the turn signal like he was going to get off at the next exit. “We’re going back.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to find that motherfucker,” he growled. “What did he say to you? Was he mean to Ava?”

  “Colton, don’t. She didn’t even know who he was and he’s probably gone by now anyway,” I reasoned. “It doesn’t matter. Don’t let him ruin this day any more than he already has. Please?”

  Colton’s lips pressed together as he seemed to debate what to do, and my tense shoulders sagged in relief when he bypassed the exit and kept driving.

  The last thing I needed was for him to go on a rampage, punching any guy wearing pastel.

  “What did he say to you?” Colton asked again, his voice low and tense.

  “Not much,” I replied honestly. “It was a short conversation and I’m not really interested in reliving it. He made a dig at me for being an exotic dancer.” I winced because it was a little painful to say it out loud.

  “That son of a bitch,” Colton muttered, his jaw so tense I could see the muscles working in his face.

  Over the past few years, I’d been okay with my occupation. Sure, it wasn’t the most respected profession, but it had never directly affected anyone else. Now that Colton and I were dating, would he be ashamed of me? How many times would he have to sugarcoat the truth when people asked him what I did for a living?

  “Ava told him I was beautiful,” I whispered, swallowing hard as I remembered how brave she was.

  “You are,” he said, reaching over to hold my hand. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Ava, too.”

  Colton was trying to reassure me. I knew he was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Josh had said.

  You just would’ve been holding me back. I never wanted to be saddled down with a kid that isn’t even mine.

  So far Colton had been great with Ava, but would there be a time when he felt like we were holding him back? Was he really ready to be an insta-dad?

  I glanced down at our intertwined fingers, wishing this afternoon had gone differently.

  Everything had been going so great lately, so perfect.

  Almost too perfect.

  And now, an unpleasant sense of foreboding hung over me. I couldn’t help feeling like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Colton said before that he thought everything happened for a reason. Running into Josh was one hell of a coincidence, and the worst kind of reality check.

  Maybe it was meant to remind me that I’d been living in a fantasy world.

  The first night at Colton’s apartment had happened because I’d wanted to pretend. Maybe I’d been pretending this whole time, fooling myself into thinking I could have it all.

  Colton squeezed my hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” I lied, trying to force a smile. “I’m fine.”

  Ellie wasn’t fine.

  I didn’t consider myself an expert when it came to dating, but I knew enough to know that when a woman says she’s fine it usually means the opposite.

  When I dropped Ellie and Ava off at their house I could tell she was trying to hide it, but it was obvious that whatever went down with her ex bothered her.

  Pestering her about it proved to be unhelpful. The more I asked, the more she said that word—fine.

  Over the past couple days, it hadn’t gotten much better. Since we’d started dating, we hadn’t gone a full day without talking in some way. Lately her texts had been short, and we seemed to be stuck in a game of phone tag when we called each other.

  I could almost feel her pulling away from me. Nothing she’d said indicated she was unhappy about anything, but her demeanor had been different.

  Me: Hoes your day?

  I typed out ‘hoes’ on purpose. I wanted to see if I could get her to use the opportunity to make fun of me. Crack a joke. Call me a pervert.

  But nothing.

  It was after-hours at the shop, but I needed something to do. To keep myself busy, I worked on the semi because I had a haul to make in the morning. I’d just gotten done checking the tires when my phone pinged with an incoming text.

  Ellie: Fine.

  There was that word again.

  Frustrated, I blew out a breath. If I didn’t have to be up so early for the delivery, I would’ve been tempted to go to Ellie’s house to see what was going on with her. But one of my dad’s top rules about driving? Don’t do it if you haven’t had enough sleep.

  While I hated following it right now, I knew it was a good rule. Falling asleep behind the wheel wasn’t something I was interested in doing, so Operation Hunt-Ellie-Down would have to wait.

  That other shoe I was so worried about? It finally dropped.

  Because I was late.

  Not in the sense that I was running behind for work.

  I mean, I was late. Four days late, to be exact. And I was never late.

  The only other time I ever missed my period ended with me crying on the bathroom floor staring at two pink lines.

  I had spent the last two days alternating between stressing and doing my best to live in denial.

  But I couldn’t put it off any longer—now it was time to find out for sure.

  With shaking hands, I tore open the package of pregnancy tests. Not wanting to leave any room for error, I’d gotten the double pack of digital early detection tests.

  I surveyed my arsenal of supplies. On the bathroom counter, there were two tests, a cup, and an instruction pamphlet. I read the directions very carefully, then peed into the cup, foregoing the option to pee directly onto the sticks, which was way more difficult than it sounded.

  Then all I could do was wait.

  As I paced around the bathroom, I prayed the results were negative. Colton and I were careful—we’d used condoms every time. But I knew that careful wasn’t always 100%.

  I lifted my hands to my breasts, testing their weight and noting the tenderness when I squeezed. Sore boobs could be a sure sign that I was about to start my period.

  Or…

  A symptom of pregnancy.

  Dropping my arms, I decided to stop fondling myself. Either I was pregnant or I wasn’t. No amount of groping was going to change that.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I found myself reliving old memories. Almost four years ago, I’d been in this exact same position.

  For a few terrifying minutes, I felt like I was in a lose-lose situation.

  I imagined what it would be like if I was carrying Colton’s child. He was an honorable guy and I knew he would want to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t what he wanted.

  At first, he would act happy and supportive.

  But my heart hurt when I thought about watching him go from loving, to resentful, to eventually leaving me.

  If Colton stayed with me, I would always wonder if it was out of obligation. And if he left… I would be crushed.

  I wasn’t sure if my heart would ever recover from that.

  My mind went back to those first lonely nights in the hospital after I had Ava. My mom had wanted to stay with me, but I insisted that she didn’t need to. It wasn’t because I didn’t want her help. I just didn’t want her to see me lose my shit—and I did lose my shit. I cried for hours, rocking the tiny pink bundle in my arms. At one point, the nurses became so concerned over my breakdown that they’d insisted on giving me a sedative while they took Ava to the nursery. Reluctantly, I’d agreed because I knew I needed to rest.

  When I woke up, I called Josh over and over again, getting his voicemail every time. After two days of leaving tearful messages and pathetic texts, I left the hospital with a baby girl and the resolve that I was going to have to raise her on my own.

  The weeks that followed were the darkest times of my life. Struggling to care for a newborn wh
ile dealing with a broken heart had left me feeling lost and depressed. If it hadn’t been for my parents, I’m not sure how I would’ve coped.

  But I knew one thing—I never wanted to go through that again. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I could survive it a second time. I wanted to have more kids someday, but not right now. Not in a relationship that was new and fragile.

  Nervously rubbing at my thumb, I stopped pacing. It’d been enough time for the test results to show, so I took a deep breath and looked down at the sticks next to the sink.

  Not pregnant. Not pregnant.

  Relief slammed through me and a hysterical laugh burst from my mouth. I leaned back against the tiled wall and sagged down on to the floor.

  Burying my face in my hands, I cried happy tears.

  My moment of respite was short-lived, though, because I heard Ava scream from somewhere in the house. Quickly shoving all the evidence into the trash, I ran from the bathroom. As I was rushing down the stairs I could tell her wailing was more than just her being upset—she was hurt.

  I followed her cries into the kitchen where she sat on the counter and my dad stood next to her, holding a towel over her face.

  “What happened?” I asked, breathless from speeding through the house.

  “We were eating breakfast in the living room. She tripped and hit her face on the coffee table. I tried to catch her but it just happened so fast,” he explained, his tone distressed.

  My dad was usually cool as a cucumber, so his reaction made me worry.

  Ava’s wailing became louder as he removed the towel from her mouth and I sucked in a breath when I saw the damage.

  “Oh, Bug. It’s okay. It’s not that bad,” I lied, trying to soothe her.

  It really was that bad. There was a lot of blood and I could see an ugly-looking gash below her lower lip. After I asked her to open her mouth wider so I could look inside, I could tell that her teeth had pierced through her cheek from the impact. I wasn’t a nurse yet, but it didn’t take a medical expert to see she was going to need stitches.

  “Am I gonna be okay?” she sobbed as blood dripped down her chin. I gently brought the towel back up to her face.

  “Yep, you’re going to be just fine,” I told her, trying to inject some cheerfulness into my voice. “But I think we need to go see the doctor.”

  She whimpered. “My lip feels funny.”

  “I know. But they’ll put some good medicine on it so it won’t hurt anymore,” I told her. “Just trust me, okay?”

  “Okay.” She nodded, her cries subsiding.

  As I got our coats and shoes, not even bothering to change out of our pajamas, it took everything I had to hold myself together. Ava had never been to the emergency room before and I didn’t want her to be scared. Seeing me panic or cry would definitely freak her out.

  On the outside I was the picture of calm, but on the inside I was an emotional wreck. In a matter of minutes, I went from thinking I might be pregnant to rushing out the door holding a bag of ice to my little girl’s swelling face.

  On the way out to the car I called Colton, needing someone to talk to. It rang four times before going to voicemail.

  “Hey,” I started, my voice shaking. “Um, I know you’re on a delivery today, so I hate to bother you. Ava got hurt and we’re on our way to the ER now. Just… please call me back?”

  After buckling my seatbelt, I glanced in the rearview mirror to find Ava puffy-eyed and still holding the cold pack up to her lip. “How are you doing, Bug?”

  She muffled something that sounded like, “I’m okay.”

  “Here, I’ll put on the Frozen CD. We’ll be at the hospital in less than two songs,” I said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

  Ava nodded and looked out the window.

  Before Anna was done singing about building a snowman, we were pulling into the ER parking lot.

  “This is the last stitch, Miss Ava,” the doctor told her as he looped the curved needle through her skin with steady hands. “You’ve been a great patient.”

  She didn’t even look away from my phone, which was playing an episode of Doc McStuffins on YouTube. Thank God for wi-fi.

  The hospital staff had been so amazing I was seriously considering buying them a fruit basket or something as a thank-you gift. The nurses made Ava laugh, despite the circumstances, and the numbing process had been painless. All she had to do was sit with some ointment over the injured area for fifteen minutes, and she couldn’t feel a thing as the doctor did his magic.

  After explaining the stitches could come out in five to seven days and that she might have a small scar, the nurse had me fill out some paperwork, then we were on our way.

  Still shaken from the events of the day, I sat for a minute behind the wheel of my car before starting it up. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths.

  “Where’s Colton? I want to talk to him.” Ava’s words came out sounding a little off because a good portion of her mouth was still numb.

  I frowned when I looked at my phone to see no missed calls or texts.

  Forcing a smile, I glanced back at her. “I don’t know, Bug. I’ll try calling him again.” This time it went straight to voicemail, but I didn’t want to leave another message so I hung up. “He must be busy,” I told her, my voice rising an octave as a feeling of irrational panic squeezed my chest.

  Colton would never ignore me on purpose.

  But that wasn’t quite true, was it?

  Old feelings resurfaced as I remembered all the afternoons I spent staring at my mailbox and the disappointment that followed every time I sorted through the envelopes.

  It was well into the afternoon now, and even though Colton was on the road he should’ve stopped and gotten my messages.

  The rational part of me knew he would call back when he could, but that didn’t stop me from mentally flipping the fuck out.

  By the time we walked through the front door, Ava was running to the bathroom to inspect the badge of courage on her face, and I was in the middle of a mind-fuck of my own creation.

  I called again. Straight to voicemail—again. I left a message this time.

  “Hey, we’re back from the hospital now.” I paused awkwardly. “It’s not like you to not call me back… Please call me back? Bye.”

  When dinner time came and I still hadn’t heard from him, I officially felt like I had crossed over into ‘crazy girlfriend’ mode. I’d sent a couple of texts, basically saying the same things I did in the voicemails, and checked my phone about every five minutes.

  My dad could tell I was having a hard time, but he didn’t pry, which I appreciated. When he offered to put Ava to bed for me, I got the feeling he felt guilty because she got hurt under his watch.

  “You know it’s not your fault, right? Kids get hurt,” I told him as I helped load the dishwasher.

  “Oh, I know. You forget this ain’t my first rodeo,” he said in a bad accent while miming throwing a lasso.

  It made me smile a little. “You’re such a goofball, Dad.”

  His face got serious. “It’s been a long day. I can tell you need a break,” he made a shooing motion with his hand. “I’ve got this.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed out before drying my hands and heading to the living room to find Ava watching Tangled. “Hey, Bug.” I sat next to her on the couch. “How you feeling?”

  “Good,” she replied cheerfully, and I smiled at her ability to be unaffected by what could have been a traumatic day.

  “Grandpa wants to put you to bed tonight. Is that okay with you?”

  “Of course! Do I get to stay up yate?” she asked, jumping to the floor and doing a ballerina twirl.

  I pinched my fingers together. “A little bit late.” Leaning down, I kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, baby.”

  After leaving another pathetic voicemail on Colton’s phone, I went to the bathroom and was relieved when I saw the smear of red on the toilet paper. Even though the tests confirmed I wasn’t pregnant, it was sti
ll good to see the evidence.

  I put on some black leggings and a gray hoodie, then I went to the closet to get the memory box.

  I was looking for something specific.

  My fingers closed around the faded, somewhat wrinkled picture.

  Holding it up, I studied it. A six-year-old Colton and I stood together, arms looped around each other as I proudly displayed a mason jar full of lightning bugs we had caught. Colton was grinning at the camera, but my face was turned, smiling at him like he’d hung the moon.

  Was this an honest representation of us?

  I remembered hearing someone say that in every relationship, there was a ‘reacher’ and a ‘settler’. I couldn’t help feeling like I was the former. I wasn’t even close to being at Colton’s level, which meant he was settling for a life with me.

  Instead of romantic dates, he settled for coming to watch me work at Caged. Instead of adult conversation or hot phone sex, he settled for watching me read bedtime stories to Ava.

  He had his shit together. A career he loved. His own apartment.

  In comparison, my life was a hot mess.

  What if he changed his mind about us? How long would it take for him to realize he was getting the shitty end of the deal?

  Clutching the picture in my hand I collapsed into my bed, feeling exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed.

  I checked my phone one more time. Still nothing from Colton.

  Then the emotional dam broke and I cried.

  As I finished up the delivery, I still couldn’t get my mind off things with Ellie. I pulled the semi over at a rest stop just before the Missouri state line to check my phone. No texts, no missed calls.

  It made me worry. Even when I was off on a haul, I usually heard from her.

  I tried to bring up her number to call, but something was wrong with the screen. It was frozen. I turned it off then started it back up, thinking that would help. No such luck. In fact, the screen started flashing at me and I had no idea what that meant.

  However, it was clear that my phone had finally met its untimely death.