Finding My Own

51. Truck Stop

We were three hours into our drive when I finally struck up a conversation with Elijah. He was busy making calls, so I had been trying my best not to bother him. Toni called to wish Maison and I luck. Of course, I wouldn't need it. I've always told myself luck didn't exist. Nothing's ever really a coincidence. Anything that happens to Maison and I will happen for a reason. But I'm going to have a plan for it all.

"Where's Rory?" I asked.

"With his mother." Elijah put his phone away. "I'm usually with him, but I'm not about to subject my son to--"

"My family's ruthless behavior?" I shook my head. "Yeah, it's better he's with someone who actually loves him."

Maison and Stacey were quiet in the front seat, occasionally fighting over the aux. It was cute. I knew they both liked each other, but it was fun seeing them act so oblivious to the truth. I know I'm a little slow when it comes to relationships, but at least I know how to act. Now that I knew this little piece of information, I could only hope they'd get together during this trip.

Elijah glanced at me out the corner of his eye. "You're not so bad, you know." He said it like he was surprised. Like he'd never really thought that about me before.

I raised an eyebrow. "Not so bad? What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to figure out."

He left it at that, leaving me to wonder what I'd done. After another four hours of driving, Stacey finally stopped at a truck stop for us all to stretch our legs. It was three in the morning, and I was already tired of being in the car. Stacey and Maison went inside to buy some snacks, while Elijah and I stayed in the car.

After a few minutes, I needed to use the bathroom. Elijah offered to come with me, but I assured him that I could handle myself. And that was where I went wrong.

The man came out of nowhere.

After asking a few sober men where the bathrooms were, I was directed to another part of the rest stop. It was lit up enough to make anyone comfortable with using the restroom in this area. But I knew something was going to go wrong. I did what I had to do, rushing out to avoid being confronting by anyone.

As I was walking back to the car, a man stepped in my way. He was older, probably in his fifties, and he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He wasn't wearing a jacket, so I could see the tattoos on his arms. I knew immediately what was about to happen.

"Hey, pretty thang," he said with a leer, "you got a light?"

I took a step back, my heart racing. "No, I don't smoke. Can you get out of my way?" I tried to walk around him, but he blocked my path again. His breath reeked of cigarettes and alcohol. "Look, I don't want any trouble."

He laughed, a wheezing sound that made me shiver. "Oh, I'm not looking for trouble, sweetheart. I'm just looking for some company." He took another step closer, his body language threatening. "Why don't you and me go somewhere quiet and talk? You can't be that important, right?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the panic rising in my throat. "Get your hands off of me. I will hurt you."

The man laughed again, a cruel sound. "Oh, I don't think you could hurt me, sweetheart. Now, why don't you just calm down and--"

Before he could finish his sentence, something connected with his jaw. He stumbled backward, clutching at his face. I couldn't look to see who'd done it, afraid they also had ulterior motives. But then strong hands wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the ground.

"It's okay, babe. I got you." It was Elijah. He set me back down, his hands lingering on my hips for just a second too long. I could feel the heat radiating from his touch, and it was a welcome sensation. "You should have just let me come with you. These men don't have much to do at rest stops."