Chapter Twelve
Linden
Fifteen minutes past the point of my tears falling, and two minutes before I let my pride go and called my in-laws for help, Jack just happened to call me.
I don’t know how he knew I was in trouble, but I couldn’t muffle my sob of relief hearing his voice.
The call cut out, though, and I couldn’t hear him.
He doesn’t know where I am, or that I’m in trouble. A loud pathetic cry fills the interior of my car.
This piece of shit car broke down on one of the worst curves between Noddingbell and Twinflower. Every set of headlights that zooms past me makes my heart stop, and my car rattle.
I couldn’t even get enough service to look up a tow truck, but even if I could, I can’t afford to spare hundreds of dollars on a tow bill.
If I were alone, I’d hoof it home and abandon the car, but Avery is soundly sleeping in the back, oblivious to everything, and this is a dangerous road. Hills on both sides, nearly no shoulder, and no street lights. We aren’t any safer on the side of the road when it’s this dark.
It’s moments like these, and so many others, that make me feel so alone in the world. I never have anyone to call. Even if I lived back home in New York, my parents would only be able to do so much.
All my friends from college abandoned me when they found out I was pregnant, or worse, when they figured out that Turner and I were headed towards divorce. I couldn’t believe how many people turned a blind eye to his abuse towards me.
I still can’t believe it.
Why would I ever want to tell anyone anything that plagues me ever again if I didn’t even have support during my lowest point in life?
Another car going way too fast speeds past me, making my car lurch, and a squeak of fear escapes me.
I have my hazard lights on; they should slow down, but they probably can’t even see me sitting here until it’s too late. I’m a sitting duck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the tears roll down my cheeks. I just want to go home.
If I call 911, it will get back to my in-laws, and I know they’ll spin this on me. Somehow they’ll accuse me of neglect and use this against me. But what other choice do I have?
Bright headlights fill my back windshield, and I gasp in terror when they come right at me, but instead of a rear-end collision, they stop right at my bumper.
My car door flings open, and I jump. Jack.
“Why aren’t you wearing your fucking seatbelt?”
“Wha– What?”
“This is a terrible place to stop!”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! My car just died!”
“You should have coasted further!”
“I tried! I couldn’t go,” my voice cracks on the last word, and his head drops to his chest.
“Go get in my truck,” his voice sounds like gravel.
“But, Avery.”
“I’ll get her. Go,” he demands roughly.
I should refuse. I should insist that I get her myself, but he came to our rescue when no one else would have bothered, and I’m too rattled to handle this alone.
He watches me with intense eyes as I shuffle out of my seat, continuously scanning the roadway for oncoming cars as he opens the back door to unbuckle Avery’s car seat. His attention bounces back to me every few beats even when I’m safely beside his truck.
Within seconds, he’s lifting her out, somehow still harnessed and sound asleep. He carries her to his truck, where I’m waiting with the back door open.
“Get in. Buckle your seatbelt,” he demands again, making me flinch, and I can’t understand why he’s being so curt.
I still don’t get in my seat until he has her tucked safely inside, and he just shakes his head angrily.
“What about my car?” I ask once he’s behind the wheel.
“I’ll take care of it once I get you guys home,” he states grumpily.
“Why are you so mad at me?”
“I’m not.”
“You seem mad.” The type of mad that puts a pit in my stomach.
He jerks his wheel, pulling back onto the roadway and leaving my car behind, and me wondering why he came if it put him out so bad.
“I can call a tow truck when we get better reception,” I insist.
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t need your help if you’re just going to act like a jerk,” my voice breaks.
He sighs and stares vacantly out the windshield to the road ahead of us for several achingly long minutes. “I apologize,” he utters sincerely.
“I don’t handle it very well when someone is angry with me. Especially if I don’t know the reason.”
His knuckles turn white as he grips his steering wheel, and I can’t take my eyes off them. He’s still angry… I just don’t understand why.
He notices where my attention is, and his hands loosen immediately.
“My parents died in a car accident. A roadside accident,” he admits softly.
“Oh, Jack. I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
Now the nausea in my stomach is there for an entirely different reason. I haven’t gotten to visit my parents in years, but I can’t imagine if they were both gone.
At least I get to talk to them on the phone whenever I want.
“My dad was out of the vehicle, changing a flat tire. My mom was sitting in the car on the phone, but she didn’t have her seatbelt on. A semi-truck clipped them going 75 mph.”
“Was it instant?” I don’t need to elaborate. He knows what I mean.
“For my dad, yeah. Not my mom. She suffered for about 10 minutes.”
“How do you know she suffered?”
“I was the one she was on the phone with when they were hit. I could hear her crying out for help, and groaning in pain. Sobbing. I stayed on the line the entire time, but by the time first responders got there, she was gone. I knew she was dead before they did.”
“How old were you?”
“17.”
“Jack.” I reach for his forearm where it rests on the center console on instinct. His arm jumps at the contact, and I pull away.
“Don’t,” he whispers painfully.
I tuck my arms around myself in my seat, trying to ignore the hurt that single word is causing me. I just wanted to express comfort in some way.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to people…” He trails off.
“Used to people doing what?” I ask, staring out the window, but I can still see his reflection, glowing from the interior controls. For as old as this truck is, the inside panel seems too modern.
“I’m not used to being around people who feel so much.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It’s not. The first thing I noticed about you is how much you love her.” He nods to the backseat, and my chest tightens.
“You were upset on the phone, and when it kept breaking up, I didn’t know if you were okay…
I was worried that something happened to Avery.
Then I saw where your car broke down… I didn’t mean to snap at you.
I was just worried,” he admits, clearing his throat.
“It made me think of my parents’ accident. ”
His honesty surprises me and renders me speechless. Silence lingers as we near our houses, and I take my opportunity to look at him up close.
He’s not wearing his usual hat, and it’s striking how handsome he truly is underneath it.
He’s sharp and serious, and I can understand why people are naturally nervous around him. His eyes seem soulless until you see how deep the depths of them are. How endless his soul truly goes.
They’re nearly as dark as his black shirt.
His eyes would be nearly impossible to replicate, and undeniable when you recognize them.
I swear I recognized them earlier tonight. Maybe I was seeing things… But I don’t think that I was.
I saw eyes that reminded me of his, and I wasn’t afraid to be alone in that hallway with Turner anymore.
“Do you do security at night?” I ask, and his shoulders shift slightly, but otherwise he doesn’t react.
“No.”
Maybe I’m wrong. I hope so, because that means he would be employed by my psycho in-laws… And I don’t know how I feel about living next door to one of their minions.
He pulls into my driveway, and I decide to let it go. He’s saved my ass so many times; I hate to give him grief over anything he does in his personal life. It’s not any of my business.
He lifts Avery into my house and sets her and her car seat down in the living room.
“I’ll have your car back by morning, then I’ll see what is wrong with it.”
“Thank you, Jack. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for how much you’ve done for me.”
He seems uncomfortable with my endearing words. “Just being neighborly.”
His stiff response makes me smile. Poor guy got stuck with a neighbor from hell and would probably prefer to avoid all my chaos.
“Well, I know you don’t like it when people show feelings, but I appreciate you.” I step toward him, and his entire body turns into a statue. “So thank you again.” I rise to my tippy toes, brushing a feather-light kiss to his cheek, and his stillness never wavers against me.
“I’m going to put her to bed, but if you want to stick around for a cup of coffee, I can make you one before you go,” I offer, unbuckling Avery from her seat. She squirms a little but lets me carry her to our room and settle her on the air mattress.
When I return to the living room, it’s empty.
Jack’s gone, and so is his truck.
I never remembered to ask him how he got my phone number in the first place.