Chapter Three #2
I should’ve been saving my tips, hoarding a little escape fund. Instead, I’m out here like some idiot who’s probably going to be sleeping in her car tonight with her young child.
God, what if someone sees me and turns me in for being a horrible mother? My hands begin to shake as my brain spins worst-case scenarios over my new life choices. I’m—
A light knock taps on the side window, and my heart stills. As limited as my options are, I still don’t want to talk to Pete. Heck, I think I’d rather take my chances in the disheveled snow cabin than go back inside that apartment tonight.
I turn my head slowly, debating how fast I could drive away if I had to. Except when I turn my head, it’s not Pete at the door. It’s Wade.
Wade?
Wade!
I squint my eyes and crane my neck forward as though I must be seeing things, then glance down at the clock.
It’s nine thirty. Why is Wade here at this time of night?
No one comes down here this late. The stores closed an hour ago, and though the diner is open until midnight, it’s usually tourists or folks driving through that stop.
Not locals. That said, Wade’s a grown man who can do what he wants with his time, so I guess he could be at the diner late.
I roll the window down and lean my elbow onto the console. “Hey, everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He swallows hard and stares toward me as though he doesn’t know what to say. “I was going to ask you the same.”
My brows narrow. “Oh, yeah. Jasper and I are just going for a ride.”
“A ride? At this hour?”
I glance down at the hem of my sweatshirt and fiddle with a loose string. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to air my dirty laundry but I’m kind of in the middle of a breakdown here.
“Umm… you’re also out for a ride this late. What’s up with that?”
He leans forward and rests his arm on the top of the car. “I’m worried about you. Something felt off today and I got this voice in my head tellin’ me to do stupid things, so I drove over here.”
“So, you’re stalking me?” My eyes widen, and though I know this behavior is the darkest shade of red, I’m not angry. In fact, I’m really glad to see him.
“Stalking is probably a good word to use, yeah.” He drags his hand down over his salt and pepper beard. “I’ve been doing loops for the last hour.”
“What did you think you’d find?”
“Not sure, but I couldn’t leave for some reason.”
He glances into the back seat where my bag is sitting. “You goin’ somewhere?”
“Somewhere,” I sigh, glancing back down at the hem I can’t stop fidgeting with. “I just officially left my fiancé. The ring is on the counter. It’s been bad for a while.” I swallow hard, my voice shaking as I speak, though I don’t know why. It’s probably the stress of the last few nights.
“I’m assuming you need somewhere to sleep?” His voice is low and comforting. “You can’t sleep at the shop.”
“I think there are some blankets in the trunk. We’ll be fine. It’s just one night while we figure things out.”
“No.” He opens the back door and grabs my bag off the seat. “You two are staying with me. I have plenty of space and an extra truck you can drive. Leave everything here and let me help you.”
“Why wouldn’t I bring my own car?”
“You only have the one, right?”
I nod as he unbuckles the car seat and lifts it out, careful not to wake my boy.
“He’s already going to be pissed that you’re taking Jasper. Maybe he’ll be less pissed if he has a way to get to work.”
“I’m not sure he’ll even be mad. He hasn’t left the bedroom.”
“He’ll be mad come morning. That’s not your concern, though.” He sets Jasper’s seat into the back seat of his truck and buckles him in gently. I’m so glad he’s stayed asleep for this. If he can get through tonight without any memory of all the drama, that would be ideal.
I’m standing behind Wade’s truck when he lands his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just tired.” I glance up at him. “Thanks for stalking me tonight. I’m not sure where we’d have gone if you hadn’t.”
He opens the truck door and helps me inside, one strong hand on the back of my arm, the other on the small of my back.
“I know this is hard, but you’re doing the right thing.
I saw it on your face this morning. You’re ready for change.
” He shuts the truck door quietly then makes his way around to the driver’s seat as snow falls lightly beneath the streetlamp.
I know everyone is ready for spring, but I prefer the coziness of wintertime.
It reminds me of childhood and the time I spent with my parents in the woods.
A crackling fireplace, a warm pot of soup on the stove, homemade bread and cookies, my dad reading aloud from a book while Mom and I cuddled up in one of her quilts.
I want Jasper to have those memories too.
“That doesn’t mean change is easy,” Wade says as he shifts the truck into gear and pulls away from the curb.
I should ride quietly. I shouldn’t open up about my feelings.
For one, Wade probably doesn’t want to hear them.
I’m sure he was joking about the stalking thing.
I bet he was getting dinner when he saw us.
Two, I don’t want to be the girl who airs all her dirty laundry.
I’m not sure if it’s the stress of the moment or what, but I start talking despite all my better judgment.
“I mean, what if Pete’s right and I really am too much? What if no one ever loves me again and I spend the rest of my life alone because, turns out, I was asking for too much all along?”
“What are you asking for?” He keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his knee as he watches the road ahead.
I shake my head as I stare out into the darkness. “I don’t need love to be perfect, but I want someone who cares about my feelings. Someone who wants to protect my heart. Someone who desires me for who I am, ya know?”
I exhale softly as I fidget again with the string on my sweater.
“Like, if I come across a stray dog and my heart wants to bring her home, I want to know someone is going to love me because I’m that girl, not be mad at me because I didn’t ask them first.” I narrow my gaze and look at him.
“I want to be that love for someone else too,” I shrug, “but maybe it’s asking too much. ”
Wade glances toward me in the dark light of the truck, the silver in his beard highlighted by the moonlight. “Honey, you’re not asking for too much. You’re asking the wrong man.”
His words are short and few, but they settle inside of me like the glowing warmth from a fireplace on a cold snowy night, and for a second, I feel something mending inside of me.
One sentence, that’s all it took.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been asking the wrong man.