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Thumb out, bare feet taking me forward at a wincing jog along the roadside, I've nearly given up hope when a semi pulls over onto the shoulder in front of me. The truck rolls to a stop and I eye it warily, until the door opens and a burly, scary-looking man who's at least six-foot-two and well over two-hundred-and-fifty pounds hops out. He looks like the offspring of a silverback gorilla and a brick wall.
He walks toward me. Lumbers is more like it.
"A pretty girl like you shouldn't be out all alone on a road like this. It's dangerous, honey."
I take a few steps backward, hand holding tight to the rock. I wonder if I can throw it hard enough. I wonder if the rock's hard enough. Or if his big, bearded head might be so hard, it’ll just harmlessly bounce off.
Would the rock shatter to pieces if I threw it at him and hit him in the face? Would it knock him unconscious, or just provoke him?
"Don't come any closer," I warn him. But my warning isn't too loud. My voice shrivels in my throat.
Then he trips.
It's a light stumble, a boot scraping over a loose rock.
"Whoopsie," he says, inordinately loud and in a high pitch. "Oh, dear me, I'm such a Clumsy Cathy. But then, what else do you expect when you're coming off fourteen hours of driving? Look, honey, I'd love to offer you a ride and help you get where you need to go. It really would bug me for absolutely ages if I just left you to wander barefoot — though you have really cute feet, and did you paint your nails? They look gorgeous; that color is a real keeper — out here all alone. But I can't stand around forever, because I need to get home, put a moisturizing mask on and my feet up, and drink some fucking Zinfandel through a straw while I watch the shittiest reality TV known to mankind." He stops five feet in front of me, lets out an enormous sigh and a giggle. "Where the hell are my manners? Of course you're scared of me. A big guy, ranting on about his need to get to his stories. I’d be frightened, too. My name's Moose. Yes, I know, you're probably wondering how I got the nickname when I don't have any antlers and I look way more like a bear — which is true, I definitely am — but I don't have the time or energy to tell you that story. So why don't you just hop in my truck and tell me your name and where I can take you?"
"I'm Danielle."
"Hi Danielle. Get on in. The step up from the passenger side is a bit of a bitch, but I've got extra pillows on all the seats, so the effort to get up there is worth it. The additional cushioning is just miraculous on the bottom. I swear, you'll sit down and feel like you're sitting on a cloud."
Moose gets into his truck on the driver's side, and I crawl in on the passenger side. He's right — this seat feels softer than a kitten.
"Where can I take you?" Moose says as he shifts the truck into gear and starts down the road.
I look out the window for a moment. Even though I know where I have to go, the idea of going back to the Vertucci compound — even though it's to save my friends — is still a hard thing to admit. I know my odds aren't good; I know there's a likely chance I'll die and, deep down, there's a part of me that just wants to go back to Reid's Repairs, to see if I can patch things up with Owen, and try to recapture some of that happiness I had. There's this certain feeling in my heart that it will be a long time, if ever, before I have any happiness again.
"Do you know the Vertucci Family?" I say.
"Bunch of evil, sexy Italian men? Yes, I know them. From my fantasies."
"I need to get to their compound. They're having a wedding and I'm supposed to be one of the bridesmaids."
"Looking like that? Honey, they won't even let you through the door wearing that outfit. Heck, I doubt they'd even let you in to take out the trash."
"I have a really nice dress back in my room," I say. I'd been looking forward to wearing it, too. To wearing it as Owen and I shared dance after dance while the wedding band played on. "I'm just wearing this because..." Stopping, I freeze, wondering just how I explain my outfit — and everything else — to Moose. "I had a really rough night."
"Trust me, I've been there. Though instead of a mechanic's outfit, I woke up in a cheerleader's outfit in Baton Rouge. Which is something I still can't figure out because, when I started drinking, I was at a dance party in Dallas. Well, either way, sweetheart, I'll get you to the Vertucci compound. No worries about that."
While he drives, I stare out the window.
I can see myself back at the wedding. I know I'll find a way in, even if I have to fight, but I doubt I'll have to — already the gears in my head are grinding out a story, and I'll claim whatever substance abuse, drunkenness, or sexual escapades I have to admit to in order to get back to my friends. But though I know I'll make it back inside, that I'll be there for my friends, a deep pain sits in my chest. Grips my heart. It's pain, and it's loss.
Because I still love Owen.
I'll always love Owen.
Even now, I love him. Love him just as much as before. Because I know that what he was doing was to protect me. He may have done it in absolutely the wrong way. He may not have trusted me the way he should have. But he was just trying to protect me.
This nightmare of a wedding was made so much easier by sharing it all with him. How am I going to keep it together during the ceremony? Or after? I wanted to dance with him, to see him in his suit, to kiss him under the stars, to live out so many things I've fantasized about since I was a girl. I'm making the right choice by keeping to my promise to Morgan and Riley, but loyalty has a cost, and this is one I'll be paying in pain for the rest of my life.
"Dani, you're crying."
"I am."
"You want to talk about it?"
"No. I want to forget about it. But I don't think I ever will."
