Be Brave With Me

by J. B. Havens

  Flipping the locks, I jerk open the door. “What?” I snap before I even look to see who’s standing there.

  A man greets me with most of his face cloaked in shadow, so I can’t make out his features beyond the glare of his glasses and the shadow of a thick beard. I hadn’t bothered to turn on a light.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?” His thick, southern drawl flows like honey on a hot day.

  “What the hell are you playing at? Knocking on my door in the middle of the fucking night?”

  He jerks back, surprised by my anger. “I heard screams.”

  “Well as you can no doubt see, there isn’t an ax murderer here chopping me up, so you can piss off.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I slam the door in his face and lock it.

  I was unnecessarily rude, I know it, I own it, and I don’t give a shit. I don’t want to talk to anyone, for any reason. It’s unfortunate my screams woke him up, but seeing as there’s little I can do about it, I decide to go back to bed. I need to sleep a little more before heading back out on the road. The fact that I have no destination in mind isn’t something I allow myself to think about. My goal is to move and keep moving, for as long as it takes. Eventually, I’ll find what I’m looking for, even if I have no idea what it is yet.

  Chapter 4

  Meg

  I wake up again before dawn fully lightens the sky. Dressing and packing the few things I’d bothered to get out of my bag, I pull my duffel over my shoulder and leave the room behind. I spare a glance over my shoulder at the door next to mine, assuming the man from last night came from there. I did feel bad for waking him up, but there wasn’t shit I could do about it. What was I supposed to do? Apologize over coffee and tell him my sad life story? Not fucking likely.

  I head over to the office. The chill of the September morning cuts through my light sweater. The door opens as I reach for the handle, almost hitting me in the face. I jerk back, cursing under my breath.

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Looking up, I see the guy from last night. I hadn’t gotten a good look at him then, but who else could it be? The glasses and the beard are a dead giveaway. In the full light, I can’t help but notice, now, everything the shadows had hidden last night. His sea blue eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the curiosity there, or the warmth. I realize he’s only a few inches taller than me, lean with wide shoulders that seem strong enough to carry the weight of the world. I look at where his soft grey shirt is tucked into fitted jeans; there doesn’t seem to be an ounce of extra fat on him. Meeting his eyes again, I watch, transfixed, as he brushes a lock of dark hair off his face, just for it to fall back down again. My fingers curl in my palm; my desire to touch his hair is unwelcome and pisses me off even more. What kind of psycho wants to touch a stranger’s hair?

  “Sure.” I move to walk around him, but he steps into my path. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I look up at him and glare. “I would be, if you’d get out of my way.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and stares me down. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you any manners?”

  “She tried. It didn’t take. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I need to go into the office.”

  “Need? Seems like what you need is an attitude adjustment.”

  My eyebrows rise in shock, and I feel my face flushing red with anger. “Oh, really? Do I now? And I suppose you’d be the big, strong man to give it to me, huh?” I poke his chest with my finger, anger tightening in my belly. “I don’t need or want your help. You should try to keep your nose on your own face and out of my fucking business. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re messing with the wrong girl.”

  He lowers his head, putting his face closer to mine. I can smell the toothpaste on his breath and see the anger sparkling in his blue eyes. “You need your mouth washed out with soap.”

  I laugh in his face and elbow past him. “Get a life.” I give him the finger over my shoulder as I walk away. I swear I hear a growl in response before the door shuts behind me.

  “Good morning, hun!” A too cheerful voice calls to me from the counter.

  I’m tired and pissed off. It’s way too early to be this happy. “Morning,” I grumble, doing my best to inject at least a sliver of kindness. “I’m checking out.”

  “So soon?” She raises an eyebrow, looking me over. “You don’t look like you’re rested. Was the room okay?” Genuine worry colors her tone. This sweet little old lady is honestly bothered that I might have slept poorly due to something on her end.

  “The room was great, ma’am. Really, it was. I just don’t sleep well.”

  The old woman surprises me by coming out from behind the desk and tugging me by the hand, forcing me to follow her to a loveseat in the corner of the office. I shock myself by allowing her to pull me along. I sit beside her but pull my hand free. Unsure what to do next, I stare at her with a questioning gaze.

  “You can call me Nana, everyone else does. I have the privilege of being a Nana to not just my own grandson, but also to anyone else I feel needs me.”

  “Oooo-kaaaay.” I draw out the word. I’m so confused by this tiny woman. “Nana.” The word feels strange on my tongue, I’d never had a close relationship with my own grandparents.

  “I don’t mean to stick my nose in your business. I’m sure you wouldn’t welcome the intrusion, but I can see it plain on your face that you’re runnin’. To or from something, I don’t know, but you’re runnin’ scared like a rabbit through a field.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but quickly close it. She raises a finger, indicating she’s not finished. Something tells me this is not a woman you interrupt.

  “This is a nice town. Quiet. Maybe people don’t always mind their own business as well as they should, but we do it out of love. I want you to take your bag back to your room, then climb in that big Jeep of yours, and go have breakfast. A good meal will help you.

  When you get back, if you still feel like you want to leave, you can stay the night and go in the morning. I won’t even charge you for the room.”

  I consider arguing, but the rumbling in my stomach betrays me. It’s been days since I’ve eaten anything other than snacks from rest stop vending machines. I can feel the exhaustion of the past month pressing on my shoulders like a stack of bricks.

  “I’ll need to shower first.” Looking in her soft blue eyes, I can see the undercurrent of steel. There would be no arguing with her.

  “Yes, child, you do. Not to be rude, but you . . . smell.”

  Hours of nightmares that made me soak the sheets with sweat would do that. I crinkle my nose in amusement and manage a half smile. “You win. I know when I’ve been beat. Where’s breakfast?”

  “About three miles down the road is The Blackened Skillet. Best breakfast and lunch you’ll find anywhere.” She pats my hand again and rises to go back behind the counter.

  Interpreting her movement as my cue to leave, I do just that, taking my bag with me.

  Maybe she’s right, I should take a little break from travelling. The ghosts that ride along with me aren’t going anywhere, probably ever. A shiver snakes its way down my spine, and I shudder. Back in my room, I head straight for the small bathroom. Stripping off my clothes, I flip on the shower and am surprised to see only a small trickle of water coming from the shower head.

  “Great.” There’s hardly enough pressure to take a decent shower, so I settle for washing my body, keeping my hair up in a sloppy bun on the top of my head. I remind myself to call down to the office and let Nana know. It feels strange to think of the older woman in those terms, but since she didn’t offer me any other name, I didn’t have much choice.

  After drying off and dressing in capris and a T-shirt, I slip on my flip-flops. I grab my keys and jam my wallet in my back pocket. With my hand on the doorknob and thoughts of French toast on my mind, I remember to call down and tell Nana about the shower. I pick up the phone, press one, and wait for
it to ring.

  “Hello, how can I help you?”

  “It’s Meg, in room eight. The shower isn’t working very well. There’s almost no pressure.”

  “Oh, my goodness, I’ll see that my grandson takes a look at it first thing tomorrow. He’s not available to do it right now.” Nana’s voice sounds concerned. She must truly care about this stuff. Most motel owners couldn’t give a shit.

  “That’s fine. Just not before ten, okay?”

  “Thanks for letting me know, Meg. Enjoy your breakfast!”

  “Thanks.” I hang up and double check I have the room key safely stashed in my pocket, slam the door, then climb up into my Jeep. My heart beats a little faster, just as it always does when I sit in this seat. I can almost smell him and feel him in here. The rich timbre of his voice rings through me like a bell from beyond the grave.

  “I’m getting there, baby. I just need time,” I say to him aloud, unable to stop myself. Speaking to him is my way of picking at the scab. When the deep wound inside me begins to heal, just as I feel it closing over, I refuse to allow it. So I pick, scrape, and prod. Letting it heal would mean it would disappear and my last connection with him would vanish with it. I can’t allow that; I’m incapable of letting go. Even if I want to, I don’t think I can.

  Backing out and leaving the parking lot behind, I head down the road, keeping an eye out for the diner. I’m monstrously hungry and in desperate need of a gallon or so of coffee.

  Suddenly, the Jeep shudders under me, jerking and clanking. “No! What the actual fuck?” I curse as the engine dies. I coast to the side of the road, shifting into neutral and wrestling with the steering wheel without the aid of power steering. Coming to a stop, I keep one foot on the brake and step on the clutch with the other, turning the key. Nothing.

  “Fucker!”

  I shift back into neutral, apply the parking brake, and get out.

  “What are you doing to me? What are you trying to tell me, huh?” I kick the front tire in frustration and immediately feel guilty. Burying my face in my hands, I take deep breaths, calming my racing heart and fighting back the tears that threaten to fall. With no cell phone, I’m stuck until someone comes along. Even if I did have a phone, I have no idea who to call. Sighing, I climb onto the hood of the Jeep and settle in to wait.

  Chapter 5

  Drew

  Drew wound his way down Highway 78, humming along with the radio. Today was his day to work at the garage in town and tomorrow he’d be back at the motel helping Nana. His thoughts drifted as he drove, going back to the angry face of the woman he’d encountered last night and this morning. She was striking, not just in her beauty, but from the pain in her eyes. A tragic beauty. No rainbows or happy endings for her. He recognized the anger, the pure rage that lived inside her. When she’d snapped at him, he wasn’t offended by it. He remembered all too well acting the same way all those years ago.

  A few moments later, the object of his thoughts came into view. Her white Jeep was on the shoulder, and she sat cross-legged on the hood. Drew slowed to a stop behind the SUV, climbed out, and walked toward her.

  Turning to see who had stopped, she gave him an evil glare. “You again!”

  “Seems you got yourself into a pickle.” He chuckled as her face turned red with anger.

  “Yeah, because I thought to myself, gee, wouldn’t it be nice if I broke down in some no-name piddly town on the way to breakfast? Wouldn’t that make my day more interesting?” Huffing and blowing her bangs from her face, she hopped down off the hood. “It just fucking died. It’s been fine for months, and suddenly took a shit on me.”

  “Well, lucky you. I work for the local garage and can arrange a tow for you pretty quick. Unless you think it will start?”

  “How dumb do you think I am? If I could get it to turn over, do you think I’d be sitting here?” Glaring, she leaned her hip against the side of the Jeep.

  “You know, you could try to be just a tad nicer, since I’m tryin’ to help you out here.” He walked back to his truck. Opening the passenger door, he waved her over. “Well, come on. Unless you’d rather sit here and wait for the tow truck?”

  “You could have asked,” she muttered as she stepped up and in. He didn’t bother extending a hand to help; he knew she’d ignore it.

  “Maybe. But you’re grumpy as hell and rude, so I figured I’d go this route instead.” After shutting her door, he walked around to his side. As he climbed in, he noticed her looking at his leg, watching the way he had to grip his thigh and lift slightly to get his lower leg into position. He raised an eyebrow in question, daring her to ask, but she just shook her head and looked out the window instead. “Were you heading to the diner?”

  She just nodded in response, her face still red with anger—or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell. Both, maybe.

  “Nana sent you there, huh?” He stole a quick glance over at her as he drove. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun thing on her head, making it hard to see how long it was, but judging by the size of the bun, it was very long. His palms itched to feel its softness. Why he found her attractive, he wasn’t sure. She was prickly at best and a downright bitch at worst. He remembered last night hearing her screams and the fear that had propelled him to her room. He’d woken up often enough drenched in sweat with shaking hands and nausea tumbling in his stomach to recognize the aftermath of trauma in someone else.

  Her voice, raspy but steady, broke through the quiet of the truck. “What’s your name?”

  “Drew Moyer.” He reached over with the hand he wasn’t using to drive, offering it to her. To his surprise, she took it, shaking it firmly.

  “I’m Meg Taylor. Thanks—for the ride I mean. Sorry about this morning. I’m not much of a people person on a good day, and you’ve caught me on a long string of bad ones.” Her eyes met his own for a brief moment. He’d never seen eyes so green before, or ones so sad. His heart broke a little bit more for her.

  “You’re welcome.” He pulled into the gravel lot of the garage he worked at. “Sit tight for a minute. I’ll go in and arrange your tow.” He left without giving her a chance to reply. Though he was careful this time to minimize his limp, he swore he could feel her gaze bore into his back, her questioning stare heating his skin.

  Entering the shop, he made his way past the guys working under lifts, sidestepping parts and creepers, until he reached the office in the back. He knocked twice and entered without waiting for a reply.

  “Hey, Nolan. I got a tow for you.” Drew spoke to the salt and pepper-haired man sitting in front of the computer, who tried to pretend he hadn’t just been caught playing games online when he was supposed to be hunting parts.

  “Yup.” Nolan spun around. “Where at?”

  “’Bout two miles back. A white Cherokee. Stalled on the driver, won’t start. Probably the fuel pump. I found her on the side of the road.” Drew crossed his arms over his chest and leaned a hip against the door jamb.

  “Who’s the client?” Nolan asked, as he stood and grabbed the truck keys from the peg on the wall.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. She’s staying at Nana’s. Out of towner. I’m giving her a ride to the diner.” Drew didn’t go into more detail, although he wasn’t sure why.

  “That all, huh?” Nolan gave him a knowing smirk. “I bet she’s pretty.”

  Drew nodded, but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t about to follow that train of thought.

  “You comin’ in later? You’re already an hour late.” Nolan pointed to the blue Toyota on the lift at the end. “I promised it’d be done today.”

  “Yeah, I’m takin’ her to breakfast, then I’ll be back.” Drew followed him through the shop and outside.

  “All right, I’ll pick up her Jeep and bring it back here, but be sure you tell her we won’t get a chance to even look at it until tomorrow.”

  “Sure thing, Nolan. See you in a bit.” Waving over his shoulder, Drew went back to his waiting truck, careful of his steps on the gravel. The
loose stones always made walking a little more challenging.

  Hopping in, he threw his arm over the back of the seat as he backed out. His fingertips accidently brushed Meg’s hair. She jerked her head forward, shooting him what he was beginning to think of as her signature glare.

  “Sorry, it was an accident. I’m not used to having anyone in my truck.”

  “It’s fine. I just . . .” she paused, seeming to consider her words carefully. “I’ve been alone for a while. I’m not used to anyone touching me. Even by accident.”

  It was the calmest thing she’d said to him. He’d come to expect her scorn, so her near whispered response felt like a confession.

  “I’ll take you to the diner and give you a ride back to the motel after you eat. Nolan, the guy who owns the garage, is going to tow your Jeep in. He said he wouldn’t have time to look at it until tomorrow, though.”

  “I was hoping for today.”

  “We’re really busy right now.” He shrugged.

  “We?”

  “I work there part-time, a couple days a week. The other days I spend helping Nana.”

  She nodded, turning her face toward the window once more. They drove in silence for a few more minutes until they reached the diner. He pulled in and searched for a spot big enough for his oversized truck.

  “Here we are,” he said, throwing the truck into park. “Best breakfast around.”

  “That’s what Nana said, too.” Meg climbed out and didn’t wait for him as she walked up the small ramp to the door of the diner. He couldn’t resist appreciating the view as he followed her in. Her snug capris showed her toned legs and firm bottom. When she reached for the handle to pull the door open, her top rode up a few inches and he caught a glimpse of her smooth skin.

  Chapter 6

  Meg