Small Town Big Man

“Steady now. Just hold on.”

“What?” I say, trying to move around him. “Didn’t you hear me? I have to go. Now.”

“I heard you, and I also see the state you’re in. You need to get home, but you can’t drive like this. Give me five minutes to throw on some clothes and I’ll drive you myself. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“No, I can't ask you to do that.”

“You didn't. I offered,” he says. “Besides, the roads are crap, and I have a truck. You'll never make it in your little car. Plus, I can hold a lot in the bed of my truck. We can grab it all without a problem.”

He turns away from me and heads toward the bedroom. I follow him and watch from the doorway as he slides on his jeans and throws his shirt on.

“It is pretty cold out, and it takes the truck a while to warm up, so grab your coat and why don’t you make a couple of cups of coffee for us to take on the road.” All the frenzy I’d felt just a minute before is disappearing. Anders is right. He is also calm and taking me seriously. Suddenly I feel calm, and I follow his instructions. Not because I’m intimidated by him or afraid to contradict him, but because I know his plan is solid and he only wants to help me. But he has work to do. He shouldn't abandon it to help me.

“What about the shower doors?” I call from the kitchen as I put the kettle on to make coffee. “Aren't you worried Marla might show up?”

“Nah, I'll tell her I went for supplies. It's not a problem at all. I can help you.”

Smiling, I nod as I scoop some coffee grinds into the French press and rummage through the cabinets looking for travel mugs. “Thank you, Anders. I really appreciate it.”

Tears well in my eyes with his kindness. No one has ever gone out of their way for me. Not my ex, not any of my friends, no one.

He walks into the kitchen dressed, his face wet, probably from splashing himself with cold water, and he walks up behind me and wraps me in his arms. “I'm happy to. I’ll go start the truck. Just don’t forget those coffees.”

I look over my shoulder to watch him wrestle his large frame into his heavy coat. Snowflakes flutter in as he opens the door to leave. And then he’s gone. But the feelings he gave me; the security, the confidence, the warmth, those are still present. Like a force shield around me, I feel stronger than ever. What felt like an insurmountable battle just minutes before now seems like a mere annoyance.

He has no idea what this means to me.

I won't forget this, and I'll make it up to him.

That's a promise.8AndersShe looks so vulnerable sitting beside me. The panic I saw in her when I first woke up this morning is gone, but she’s so quiet. Her hands nervously fumble over each other as we drive to her old place. I can tell she's thinking. Her mind must be rolling with all kinds of emotions.

I just can't tell what they are.

I don't know if she's nervous about her belongings, or if it's the possibility of running into her ex, or maybe it's just being here with me.

I'm trying so hard not to let myself fall for this girl.

It's obvious she's still really upset over her breakup, and it kills me to think I'm just a rebound fuck for her. The thought sends a knife through my gut.

She's not yours. Not yet anyway.

The mountain road is slick, and Laney’s pale as we wind down it. Her knuckles white as she grips the dashboard in front of her. A couple of times we hit some ice and I need to correct the truck, but I know how to drive these roads. My truck might be old, but she's great in the snow. And this treacherous road convinces me even more that I made the right choice insisting I drive her.

As soon as we hit dry pavement, I pull off to the side. “I need to take the chains off.”

Climbing out of the car, I expect her to stay inside where it’s warm, but she surprises me. Laney climbs out and starts to help. Cara never would have done this. She was always too worried about her nails, and the thought of getting dirty made her cringe.

But not Laney. Her hands are under the tires, coming out black from the rubber and dirt. Staring at her for a second, she wipes her hands off on her jeans and then pushes her hair from her face.

She's nothing like Cara. . .

It’s not right to compare Cara and Laney. I knew who Cara was when we first started dating. I fell for her anyway, despite all the red flags. And Laney … well, she’s been exactly who I thought she was since the first night she drunkenly approached me at the bar. I can’t say I understand her completely, but there’s nothing phony about her. She may not be showing me all her cards, but what she has shown me is knocking me off my feet.