Halfway Hidden

“I need you to go now.” She swallowed hard. This was more difficult than she’d imagined. “Nobody’s going to offer me a lift with you around.” She tried to laugh like it was a joke. She failed miserably, her heart clenching with agony.

He sighed again. “Call me when you get somewhere. Let it ring three times, then hang up. Let me know you’re safe.”

She nodded, unsure if she’d actually do it. She wasn’t sure he deserved her consideration. Not when he was being an asshole.

The awkwardness descended, the goddess of embarrassing goodbyes showering them with discomfort. Rachel wiggled her fingers for something to do.

“I guess I’ll be off.” Murphy pulled open the door. “Just call me, okay?” He turned to stare at her a final time, his eyes narrowed as he tried to work her out. She looked back, emotionless, not willing to break down in front of him.

“Okay.” Her reply was soft. She bit her lip to stop herself from saying anymore. He climbed in and pulled the door closed behind him, and the engine started up with a load roar and an expulsion of fumes.

The vapors made her cough.

She turned away, unwilling to watch him leave, picking up her bag and walking around to the other side of the building. There was a bench there, and she sat down. The cold, wet wood was freezing against her ass.

Ten minutes. She’d give herself ten minutes to think things through and succumb to the fear. Then she’d brush h

erself off, stand up and walk toward the rest of her life.

She’d done this before, and she could do this again.

Couldn’t she?

The hum of the engine faded to nothing as he drove away, and she let her head fall into her hands, no longer able to hold back the emotions. Her throat was holding her breath captive, burning the skin inside and making her lungs ache for more.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, pooling at the bottom rims. Then a single, salty drop tipped over the edge and the trickle of tears turned into a flood, transforming her soft sobs into loud wails.

She was alone—again—with nothing but a few clothes and a wad of bills in her pocket. It was more than she had last time, but it was still a pitiful excuse for a life.

Another car pulled into the lot, full of chatting patrons who walked in a large circle around her, not wanting to look at the girl crying into her hands. Rachel buried her face deeper, palms as wet as her cheeks with tears, her chest wracked as she tried to breathe in. She’d really thought this time was different. There’d be a connection there, no matter how tenuous.

She’d felt safe when Murphy was around.

A rumbling engine made her head shoot up. A delivery truck parked in the bay reserved for freight, and a middle-aged trucker climbed down from the cab. He loped toward the diner, barely noticing Rachel sitting there with red eyes and a desperate stare. She watched his back as he walked inside. She rubbed her eyes, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. She guessed she had about half an hour before he came back out again, but was it enough time for her eyes to de-puff and her tears to dry? A blurred glance at the side of his truck told her he came from Kentucky, and the thought of travelling southwest made her feel uneasy somehow, even though it was the opposite direction to Boston. That thought was enough to make her sob again. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle the noise, not wanting anybody to notice.

Her thoughts were buzzing like flies in her brain—incomprehensible, flying around too fast to catch and pin down. She curled into a ball, feet propped on the bench, head buried in her knees. Maybe that’s why she didn’t notice the rumble of another engine; she didn’t even look up when the door slammed. She was too consumed with misery to notice anybody else, too alone to care about how she looked. She carried on sobbing, body tensed into a crouch, soles pushing on the seat of the bench.

She heard the footsteps, but they were muffled by the rubber on the soles, enough for Rachel to think she was alone, just her and the self-pity that wanted to eat her alive.

Then she heard a voice…his voice as he started talking.

“I nearly made it to the highway.” Murphy cleared his throat. “But it was too quiet—made me feel nervous.”

Just like him to make a joke of it. Despite her tears, she felt her lips tugging into a smile.

“You should have turned on the radio.” Her voice was thick, muffled by her knees.

“I tried that. It’s just full of crap.”

Her smile got bigger. “There’s a little knob in the middle. You can twist it and find different stations.” She raised her head a little, enough to see his legs. She wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye yet. She still needed to get her breathing under control. “All sorts of music out there if you know where to look.”

“I’m shit at that sort of thing. Thought I might pick up a hitchhiker who could help.”

This time she glanced farther up, raising her red, swollen eyes until she could see his face. “Hasn’t anybody told you how dangerous it is to pick up strangers?”

He tilted his head to the side, voice soft as he spoke. “I figure I’ll take my chances.”

And there it was. A little explosion of hope in her heart. She let it burn, warming her body, while sweet anticipation ran through her veins. He reached down and curled his fingers around the handle of her bag, lifting it with ease before he turned and starting walking to his SUV. He was nearly there before he turned back to call to her.