Chapter 5
JUDE
I wake before Zennika, her warm body still nestled against mine, soft breath tickling my neck as dawn light filters through the thin motel curtains.
Last night replays in my mind, not just the physical connection, but the vulnerability we shared afterward.
The way she looked at me in the darkness, admitting this feels like something significant.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her.
The intimacy of this moment, just watching her sleep, hits me with unexpected force.
I've had my share of casual encounters over the years, but nothing has ever felt like this, like something clicking into place that I didn't know was missing.
As much as I'd like to stay here, watching her peaceful expression, I know we need to get moving if we're going to make Saddleback by nightfall. Reluctantly, I ease out of bed, tucking the blanket around her before heading to the shower.
When I return, towel wrapped around my waist, Zennika is sitting up in bed, hugging her knees to her chest, a pensive expression on her face.
"Morning," I say, keeping my voice light though I can sense something's shifted. "Sleep well?"
"Yes. Actually, better than I have in ages." She offers a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Jude, about last night..."
My stomach tightens. I know that tone, it's the prelude to regret, to walking back the closeness we shared.
"What about it?" I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, giving her space.
She takes a deep breath. "It was amazing. All of it. But I—" She hesitates, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "I'm worried we're moving too fast."
Not quite what I expected. Not "it was a mistake" or "let's forget it happened," but caution. I can work with caution.
"Too fast for what?" I ask carefully.
"For whatever this is becoming." Her eyes meet mine, vulnerable and honest. "Three days ago, I thought I hated you. Now I'm... feeling things I didn't expect. We still have all these practical issues to consider, your life in Washington, mine is about to be in Georgia."
"You're overthinking this," I tell her gently.
"That's what I do," she admits with a self-deprecating smile. "Professional overthinker."
I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "What if we just take it one day at a time? No pressure, no expectations beyond getting you to Georgia. See where things stand when we get there."
"And if we keep..." She gestures between us, a flush rising to her cheeks.
"Having mind-blowing sex?" I supply, earning a laugh from her.
"That. If we keep doing that, what does it mean?"
"It means we enjoy each other's company. It doesn't have to be complicated." I brush my thumb across her knuckles. "Unless you want it to be."
She studies me for a long moment. "I don't want to ruin the rest of this trip with awkwardness. But I also don't want either of us getting hurt when reality catches up to us."
"Fair enough," I agree. "So we keep it light. Enjoy the journey. No morning-after regrets or overthinking. Deal?"
She nods slowly. "Deal. But..."
"But?"
"I need a little space this morning. To get my head straight. Is that okay?"
It's not what I want, but I understand. This thing between us has gone from zero to sixty in record time, and Zennika's the type who needs to process. The last thing I want is to push her away by crowding her.
"Of course," I say, standing. "I'll get dressed and grab us some breakfast while you get ready. Take all the time you need."
Relief and gratitude flash across her face. "Thank you."
I dress quickly, giving her the privacy she needs. As I head out to find coffee and something edible for the road, I remind myself to be patient. What's happening between us is new and fragile, and Zennika's caution isn't rejection—it's self-preservation.
I get it. I've been protecting myself for years too.
Three hundred and twelve miles to Saddleback, and I can't stop thinking about last night. But I promised Zen to give her space, and that’s what I’m going to do. I just wish it wasn’t this hard.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, trying to focus on the highway ahead instead of the woman beside me.
Zennika stares out the passenger window, the silence between us less tense than I'd feared but still weighted with unspoken thoughts.
Since I returned with breakfast, she's been polite but distant, clearly still processing.
"We should stop for gas soon," I say, breaking the silence that's been stretching for over an hour. "Tank's getting low."
"Fine." Her voice isn't cold, just distracted.
I spot a sign for the next exit. "Looks like there's a town coming up. Heartstone, Missouri. Should have a gas station."
She nods, offering a small smile that feels like a peace offering. The careful distance she's maintaining isn't as severe as I initially feared, not a wall per se, just a buffer zone while she sorts through her thoughts.
The exit takes us down a winding road lined with oak trees, their branches creating patterns of light and shadow across the windshield. Heartstone appears around the bend, a small cluster of buildings with charm to spare. A neon sign for "Kathy's Diner" stands out against the rural backdrop.
I pull into the gas station next to the diner, cutting the engine. "Need anything from inside?" I ask as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
She shakes her head, still not making full eye contact. "I'm good."
Inside the convenience store, I grab two bottles of water and pay for the gas.
My reflection in the refrigerator door looks tired, a muscle jumping in my jaw from clenching it too hard.
I need to give her time, but the distance between us after the intimacy we shared is harder to take than I expected.
When I return to the truck, she's tapping away on her phone, frowning at the screen.
"Everything okay?" I ask, handing her one of the waters.
"Just work stuff. I got an email from a client who's suddenly decided their entire campaign needs to be revamped by Monday." She sighs, tucking her phone away. "Not much I can do about it from here."
"Sorry." I start the truck, pulling away from the pump. "Must be hard being away from your job with no notice."
"I had time off scheduled for the wedding anyway." She shrugs. "Just not quite this much time, and I'd planned to be somewhat accessible. Coverage is spotty on this route."
"Welcome to rural America."
She finally turns to look at me, her expression softening slightly. "Thanks for the water."
"No problem."
We fall back into silence, but it feels less strained now. Progress, I suppose. Small victories.
As we drive through the main street of Heartstone, the diner's neon glow catches her attention.
"That place looks straight out of the 1950s," she comments, the first unprompted thing she's said in hours.
I follow her gaze to Kathy's Diner, with its cherry-red and chrome exterior. "Hungry?"
She hesitates, then nods. "Actually, yes."
I don't need further encouragement. I pull into the small parking lot beside the diner, relieved at the prospect of food and a brief escape from the confines of the truck.
The bell above the door jingles as we enter.
Despite the late hour, the diner is half-full, locals nursing cups of coffee and sharing slices of pie.
The whole place does indeed look like it was pulled straight from another era, complete with a checkerboard floor, red vinyl booths, and chrome accents everywhere.
"Welcome to Kathy's!" A blonde woman in her fifties approaches us, menus in hand. Her seafoam green eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles. "Sit anywhere you like, sugar. I'm Kathy."
"Thanks," Zennika says, choosing a booth by the window. I slide in across from her, careful to keep my legs from brushing against hers under the table.
"What brings you two through Heartstone?" Kathy asks, filling water glasses from a pitcher. "We don't get many strangers this time of night."
"Road trip," I explain. "Heading to Georgia."
"Emergency landing," Zennika adds. At Kathy's questioning look, she elaborates. "My plane had mechanical issues and landed in Kansas. He's helping me get to my best friend's wedding."
"Well, isn't that something," Kathy says, studying us both with knowing eyes. "Sounds like the start of a good story."
"It's been an adventure," Zennika says, and I catch her glance at me, something softer in her expression now.
"Honey, I've been married to my Bill for forty years," Kathy says with a wink. "And I know that look between two people."
Zennika flushes, and I find myself suddenly very interested in the menu.
"I'll give you two a minute to decide," Kathy says, clearly enjoying our discomfort. "Our Hearty Breakfast is good any time of day, but the Club Special is my personal recommendation for dinner."
After she walks away, Zennika raises an eyebrow at me. "Subtle."
"Small towns," I shrug. "Everyone's in everyone else's business."
"Clearly."
We order when Kathy returns, both choosing the famous Club Special, which turns out to be an impressive sandwich stacked with ham, turkey, pastrami, and two kinds of cheese. The homemade chips that come with it are still warm from the fryer.
"So," Zennika says after we've both taken a few bites, her tone more relaxed than it's been all day. "I'm sorry about this morning. I didn't mean to be cold."
The apology surprises me. "You weren't cold. Just... processing."
"Still. After last night..." She looks down at her plate, pushing a chip around with her finger. "It was special. I meant what I said about it feeling significant. I just got scared in the light of day."
Relief washes through me. "Scared of what?"
"Of how fast this is happening. Of what it might mean when we reach Georgia." She meets my eyes. "Of how much I don't want this to end."
The admission is honest and vulnerable.
"It doesn't have to end," I say carefully. "We can figure it out."
"How?" She looks genuinely curious, not dismissive. "We're not the first people to navigate distance," I point out. "And Washington to Georgia isn't exactly opposite ends of the earth."
She smiles then, a real smile that reaches her eyes. "Listen to you, being all practical and solution-oriented."
"One of us has to be, and you're busy overthinking."
She laughs, and the sound loosens something in my chest that's been tight all day. "Fair point."
"So, what do you say?" I reach across the table, palm up in invitation. "We take it one day at a time, see where we stand when we reach Georgia, and if we both want to keep exploring this, we figure out the logistics then?"
She places her hand in mine, her touch sending warmth up my arm. "That sounds... manageable."
"See, I’m charming and smart," I tease.
"Oh, shut up." But she's smiling, the tension of the morning finally dissipating.
We finish our meal in companionable conversation, the earlier awkwardness replaced by the easy rapport we've developed over the past few days. By the time Kathy brings our check, Zennika's foot is hooked around my ankle under the table, a small but significant gesture of reconnection.
"So," Zennika says as we head back to the truck. "What's the plan for tonight? It's getting late."
"There's a B&B just down the road," Kathy chimes in as she refills our waters, apparently having been listening from nearby. "The Nighty Night. Run by the sweetest couple, Dawn and Jeremy Lincoln. Tell them Kathy sent you, they'll treat you right."
"We were thinking of pushing through to Saddleback," I say, though the idea of continuing to drive is becoming less appealing by the minute, especially now that Zennika and I seem to be back on track.
"In that old truck?" Kathy clucks her tongue. "Not tonight, you're not. There's a storm rolling in from the west. You'd be better off waiting till morning."
As if on cue, a distant rumble of thunder punctuates her words.
"Great," Zennika mutters, and I remember her earlier confession about being afraid of thunderstorms.
"Sounds like we're staying in Heartstone tonight," I say, trying to gauge her reaction.
She nods, and this time there's a hint of anticipation in her eyes as they meet mine. "Looks that way."
The rest of our meal passes with safer topics of conversation, guided by Kathy's occasional interruptions to tell us about local landmarks or to introduce other patrons.
By the time we finish our food, I feel like I know half the town, from Penelope who runs the ice cream shop next door to the Miller siblings who own the auto repair shop down the street.
"You folks should stop by Miller's in the morning," Kathy suggests as she brings our check. "That truck of yours could use a once-over before you hit the road again."
"It's fine," I say defensively. Old Blue has never let me down.
Kathy just gives me a look that reminds me eerily of my third-grade teacher. "Wyatt Miller knows his way around old Fords. Wouldn't hurt to let him take a look."
"We'll think about it," Zennika promises, clearly more diplomatic than I am.
Outside, the air has grown heavy with the approaching storm. Lightning flashes in the distance, illuminating the clouds piling up on the horizon. Zennika tenses beside me.
"Let's find that B&B," I suggest, opening the truck door for her.
As we drive through the quiet streets of Heartstone, Zennika's hand finds mine on the seat between us, her fingers lacing through mine. The simple gesture says everything about how far we've come today. It’s not an agreement to forever yet, but for now, it's enough.