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But I know what she's thinking because I'm thinking it now myself. So I level with her. “Those… men. They’re just hired hands. But they get paid per pound, so to speak… If they saw you and came back for you. It wasn’t just because you saw them snatch some other girl…”
I can’t believe I'm even saying it out loud. My grip on the wheel tightens and I clench my jaws like a vice. The singing pain in my arm nothing compared to the thought of those pigs even looking at my girl. And I feel my chest ache, considering how many other girls there are. How many moms and dads still waiting for them to come home. Never knowing the worst of what they went through being their only blessing.
“They’ll come after us, won't they?” She finally says rather than asks me. Finishing tying off the bandage she's fixed and pecking it better with her lips. My mouth creasing to stop me telling her the only thing I can think of to explain how I feel. But it’s way too soon for that. I mean, I've only just learned to smile tonight. Anything more than that is gonna take some time.
“Not if we find them first,” I drawl. Hoping she buys my bravado. But Petra puffs air out of her cheeks, staring ahead at the road with me before she asks me again, “So you really have no idea what’s in back there? What you’re hauling?”
10
PETRA
Idon’t mean to open up so many wounds in the man, especially after just closing one over. I could literally interrogate him for days on end, asking everything I want to know about him. And even though he seems more concerned with those men and maybe one of them coming after me. I’m still stuck on the part where he had another young girl in his truck all those years ago.
Ancient history? Maybe. But to a girl who’s just snagged her man, I can't help feeling a stab of jealousy. Even if she is dead, it means she was still in the truck with P.T. before I was. Guess a jealous girl is always gonna be a jealous girl…
“So…Tell me more about the girl youdidn’tkill?” I ask suddenly. Breaking the long silence after he only shrugs when I ask him yet again what the heck he's hauling back there.
P.T.’s no dummy and he senses the jealousy in my voice. He frowns and groans for a moment, but it seems the more I push him, the funnier he starts to think it is.
“What do you need to know?” He asks, crimping his mouth to stop from grinning. But it only makes my mood worse. Makes me need to hear him tell me if he has feelings for me, I guess. I mean he’s amazing at- Well, you know…
I just thought he might’ve said something nice, or I dunno… He might’ve just done more than grunt and start driving again is all I’m saying.
But dammit if he isn't as pig-headed as he is handsome. Once he can see how jealous I am over nothing, P.T. eases back into his seat with his chest puffed a little further and a wry smile dancing on his lips.
But I’m serious. I’m getting green-eyed monster over here thanks to a dead girl. And only because it hits me like a wall that I already need some more of that trucker loving he’s really carrying already.
“P.T…” I whine, batting at him and growling in frustration when he chuckles. It’s a deep and full laugh that’s totally disarming. But his own thick arm around me like a tree trunk isn't and in a second he has me right back where he wants me. “You can be jealous, I don't mind.” He murmurs, accepting the unintentional compliment.
I know nothing happened with that girl, or nay girl since. He said so himself. But maybe in the same way he seems to want me within arms reach from now on is what I’m really trying to tell him. It’s only been a few hours and I already can't imagine my life without him right next to me. Just like this.
It makes me feel like we could handle anything that happened. And if tonight's anything to go by, something tells me we’re not out of the woods yet.
“So what happens when we do get to the border?” I ask, needing to change the subject or else we’ll be stopping every five miles for another roll in the sleeper compartment.
“You mean with the truck?” He asks, glancing down, “The people I work for have a… arrangement with the border patrols.” Is all he’s gonna say about that. But it’s not what I mean, as useful and interesting as it is to know.
“What about me is what I mean,” I murmur, knowing it sounds selfish, even bratty. But I’d like to know before we get there just what I'm in for.
“You can duck down or you can sit on my lap,” P.T. answers cheerfully, as if he prefers the second idea. “Like I said, the paperwork I got here? Always a green light all the way through.” He says confidently. And it’s the kind of confidence I could use right now myself.
I mean, I love P.T. Even though he'd probably make a face and grunt if I told him so right now. And I wanna be with him like nothing else. But just disappearing like this? Floyd would most likely already be having a seizure if he's made it back to the diner. And I know the police will be looking for me.
“I guess I’m just a little new to the life,” I joke. Trying to sound like I’m signing a blood pact with my new partner in crime. But P.T. doesn’t think it’s funny at all.
“There is no ‘the life’ anymore, not for me! Got it?” He snaps, relaxing his tone once he feels me jump.
“I mean… This is my life now. You and me… I don’t wanna run or hide from anything anymore, Petra. I just wanna get this run finished, settle down and have a normal life. A boring one even.” He exclaims.
It’s about as close to him telling me how he really feels as I'm gonna get right now, I guess. But he says it with such intensity that I can't help feeling just as special as if he'd said those three magic words I can't help saying to myself every time I look up at him.
“I don't think it’ll be that boring…” I remind him. Letting my hand slide down into his lap. Shifting both our minds and bodies to a better place in a moment. Making us both feel the same need that started long before he grabbed me.
“Let’s just get over the border, huh? Then I can show you what I mean…” P.T. says cryptically.
It’s kinda weird. But when we sit apart, we end up squabbling and when we butt up together like bookends, it's like the only thing either of us needs to feel complete. So we travel like this for hours. P.T. at the helm with me under his arm. May arms hooked around as much of him as I can hold. Sometime moving my hand south, but never long enough to distract him a hundred percent from doing his job.
“We’re gonna be fine.” He assures me, “Now how about you tell me just how come you know so much about the inside of a truck?” he asks, mimicking my own petty jealousy so well I have to giggle. But there is a reason and it’ll be me telling him more about just who he's getting mixed up with as much as me getting mixed up with him.
