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The driver snorts, shaking his head. “Damn. She really fucked you over then. You’re over a four hour drive from there, closer to Las Cruces. You’re a big guy, aren’t ya?” he mutters to himself, eyeing me.
I wonder where his thought process is going, eyeing the gun warily.Please don’t let him be measuring me for a skin suit.
“I may have a pair of sweatpants that’ll fit ya, but you’re shit out of luck on a shirt for a while or shoes,” he continues and I relax a little.
“So… you’ll give me a ride?” I ask hopefully, raking my hand through my hair.
“Yes, of course. I can’t in good conscience leave you out here for the coyotes, now can I?” he huffs, shaking his head. The passenger side door opens and I exhale in relief.
Fuck. He damn well could just leave me, and I’d be fucked. Thank God for good people in the world. As I climb in, he leans back into his seat.
“Seriously, thank you so much for stopping,” I say as I close the door. Now, please don’t let him be some sort of serial killer and I’ll believe the angels are smiling down on me today.
Barclay grins, propping the shotgun next to him. “Here’s a pair of pants in the meantime,” he says, reaching behind him. “I have a feeling there may be more to your story, but I will let you keep your own counsel, you hear? If it’s illegal, you keep my name out of your mouth and we’ll be square.”
I nod frantically, because old Barclay could still kick me out. While what happened to Len and I was really fucking illegal, I did not commit an illegal act. That counts for something, right?
Taking the pants from him, I realize they may just fit me and somehow they’re also clean. Glancing up at him in surprise, I pull them on.
“My son came to see me, and my wife somehow got things mixed up in the wash. She’s a wonderful woman, but her eyesight is touch and go these days,” he explains with a shrug.
Nodding gratefully, I sigh once I have them on. “I’ve never been so happy for a pair of pants,” I murmur.
Snorting in humor, Barclay starts up the car. “Need my phone to make a call?” he asks as he starts down the road.
Chewing my bottom lip, I feel a tremor of nervousness. “Yeah, I do. How far can you take me?”
“I’m driving for quite awhile today, and lucky for you, I’m going through Albuquerque. I’ll drop you wherever you need. Wanna use the phone now, or want to catch your breath? You were running like the hellspawn were on your heels.” He observes.
My breath is still sawing a bit from running so hard and I nod. Barclay rummages behind him in an ice chest, and I’m in awe at how organized his rig is. I’ve seen videos of the life of someone who lives out of their semi, but I thought that was staged. Pulling out a bottle of water, he hands it to me.
“My wife taught me how to keep an organized rig,” he says with a shrug.
I guess my face displayed more than I expected it to. Damn, I’m usually better than this.Thank God I’m not around my father today or he’d have used every tick and raised eyebrow against me.
“Thank you, Sir. If you don’t mind, I’d love to borrow your phone once we’re closer to our destination. I need to organize my thoughts a bit,” I explain, which is as close to the truth as I can get.
I’m really just terrified of facing the guys and having to explain what really happened. Who the hell will believe me? Maybe I do deserve to spend some time with Sally, Turner’s bat. When all’s said and done though, I’m safe, and nothing extreme happened to me.
So I was tasered and emotionally traumatized by Lennon’s mother, a woman I fucking hate. Lennon’s where my thoughts lie. The unknown is fucking terrifying to me.
I crack open the bottle, praying it’s not drugged. Maybe Turner is rubbing off on me, but I’m surviving on the kindness of others right now. I can only hope that kindness continues. As I take a sip, I let myself enjoy the chilled water as it slides down my throat. Swallowing greedily, I sigh happily as I pull the bottle away from me.
Barclay chuckles at me. “I reckoned you were thirsty,” he teases me.
Flushing, I nod, glancing over at him. “I’m not really sure how long I’ve been walking,” I confess, glancing at the clock finally.
It’s almost as if I was scared of what it would tell me.Two in the fucking morning.
“Jesus,” I whisper. “I had no idea it had been so long,” I confess.
Barclay blows out a breath sympathetically and it reminds me of Len so much that my heart clenches in physical pain. Rubbing my chest absently, I almost miss his next words.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through tonight, but if you want to get some shut eye, you’re free to do it here. I’m your average Joe truck driver with two older kids and a wife at home. I’ll wake you up when we get about half an hour out.”
Nodding, I lean against the door. Barclay grabs a blanket and hands it to me as he continues to drive. It’s folded, and I can smell the light scent of detergent. I can tell he hasn’t been on the road long because you can still feel his wife’s personal touch on his things. As my eyes start to drift shut, I realize Barclay didn’t once ask my name, or pry into my life. I appreciate this because I’m going to be bombarded with questions when I get back into Albuquerque, so I’ll take the reprieve for now.
My vision fills with Lennon O’Reilly as I fall asleep.Please be okay. Just hold on for me. For us.
