She inhales a breath, and I can tell she’s trying to stay calm. She’s impatient with my concerns. “I’ll be okay,” she maintains. “I’m not your kid. My dad is here.”
“Your dad isn’t…” I bark but stop.
Insulting her won’t get us anywhere.
I press my back into the seat and grind my fist over the wheel.
Her father isn’t a bad guy. From what I know of him anyway. We’ve even talked a few times in passing.
But he’s weak.
He’s a drunk, and he’s a loser. He’s the type who does the bare minimum in life and puts up with scraps, because he’s too lazy to fight for better. He can’t be there for her.
“This is stupid,” I say. “You’re not trading in a perfectly good home, in a nice, safe neighborhood, for this. Swallow your prid
e, Jordan.”
“I don’t belong at your house!” Fury burns in her eyes. “And this is where I come from, thank you. Cole is going to be back, eventually, and he’s your son. How do you think that’s going to work out with both of us there? I have no right.”
“We’ll deal with it.”
“No,” she fires back. “This isn’t any of your business. This is my home.”
“It’s not a home! You don’t…”
I open my mouth to finish, but my heart is pounding so hard, and I’m afraid of what I was going to say.
I breathe shallow and fast, turning my eyes forward again and away from her. I lower my voice. “You don’t have anyone who cares about you in this shithole.”
“And I do at your house?”
I shoot my eyes to her, the answer to that question coming so easily and so heavy on the tip of my tongue that I want to tell her.
But I don’t.
And she stares at me, my unsaid reply hanging between us. She falters, realization softening her eyes.
“Just get in the truck,” I grit out, “and let’s go home.”
“But—”
“Now, Jordan!” I slam the steering wheel with my palm.
She sucks in a breath, her eyes flaring. I don’t know if I scared her, or if she’s worried about making a scene, but she quickly pulls herself into the truck and slams her door. She’s tense and pissed and probably thinks she’ll deal with me away from prying eyes later, but I don’t care. I’ve got her, and we’re out of here.
I shift the truck into gear and pull ahead, swinging around and then reversing to do a U-turn. Finally facing back the way I came, I lay on the gas and get us out of there, driving back down the lane and pulling onto the road leading back into town.
I have no idea what her stepbrother or stepmother were probably thinking, and I really don’t care about that either. Let them think what they want for the next five minutes, because that’s exactly how long it will take them to forget she exists again.
No wonder she moved out there in the first place. I don’t think she was abused or anything—I never heard talk like that about her father—but she was definitely neglected. She deserves better.
The trees loom on both sides of the dark highway, and I roll my window down for some much-needed fresh air.
She doesn’t say anything, just sits there frozen, and I could kick myself, because I should’ve just talked to her at the house instead of going through all this. I knew how this was going to end. There was no way she was staying in Meadow Lakes. I wasn’t seriously helping her move tonight. I was finding my mettle.
But what if she wanted to move in with her sister? Or stay with a friend? I still would’ve fought her. I know I would’ve.
It’s not that she can’t take care of herself. I know very well she can.