“That was a long time ago.” I pushed a hand through my too-long hair, breathing a sigh of relief when she scooted back across the bench seat and took to gazin’ out the window.
The miles of open road rolled by in silence after that. Hours of thoughts hanging heavy between us, neither one of us brave enough to bring a voice to the things we’d been waiting a decade to say.
I’d had different words on the tip of my tongue a dozen times, and then I’d sneak a glance at her, looking all lonely and lost in her thoughts. And for the first time in nearly a fucking decade, I wondered what in the hell it’d been that I was chasing out here.
For so long, I’d run from town to town following some lofty idea that I might find her again.
And then I’d resigned myself to the fact that she was gone forever.
And then finally, I’d decided that everything she’d done, she’d done with the sole purpose of tearing my fucking heart out and burying it in the cold country clay under her feet.
Truth be told, none of those estimations was quite right, and havin’ her here turned every damn thing I thought I was thinking upside down.
We were passing the “Welcome to Memphis” sign a dozen miles later when I punched the address of the little dive bar into my navigation system and followed the route to Slick Willy’s.
I grinned when we pulled up alongside the little establishment, so small they probably couldn’t pack in more than a hundred folks at a time. I could smell the burn of cheap whiskey already.
“Looks like this is home the next few nights,” I said aloud before realizing she was with me and I had promised to boot her once we got to Memphis.
And now here we were. Only thing was, she was huddled up over there looking so sad and broken.
I suppressed a groan before I took in our surroundings. A chain hotel perched just down the street looked clean enough for my needs.
I steered the truck in that direction, then shifted into park and paused, lingering at the door handle as I wondered whether or not to say anything before I went to the reservation desk.
I shook my head silently, opting to leave her to her thoughts.
I’d had a damn decade to get used to the fact that my life had changed irreparably that night, that I’d soon found myself as the sole caregiver for a man in rapidly failing health, that the girl I’d sworn my whole heart to had vanished without a trace. That the fire that’d taken so much away from me may have been an act of arson.
The fact that Augusta Belle wasn’t there for any of it was inconsequential to me at this point.
I’d had to get along regardless, and I hadn’t done a half-bad job, whiskey bottle aside.
I stepped out of the hotel’s main office fifteen minutes later with two keycards in hand, a healthy drizzle now coating my windshield, and Augusta Belle still curled peacefully in the passenger seat, just like I’d left her.
My eyes quickly registered an Italian pizzeria joint across the street, with a liquor store right beside it.
Memphis catered to all my essentials.
I frowned. The familiar warmth of that smoky aroma curling around my nostrils as I opened a bottle of Jack for the first time had me fightin’ to keep myself in line. Cravings tore through my veins as the need to soak myself in liquor reared it’s ugly head.
I swallowed the memory of warmth washing my insides, heart ratcheting up to a gallop as the neon lights across the street called to me.
I chomped down on my bottom lip, struggling for any sense of control to keep me planted in the present, when a clap of thunder echoed across the sky.
My eyes cut across the lot to Augusta.
The only thing stopping me from walking through that liquor store’s swingin’ door was the little girl perched in my front seat, not a soul left on this earth to love her but me.
I grunted to myself, uncomfortable with the idea of anyone at all relyin’ on me and leaving a pit of something like dread deep in my stomach. But I didn’t think about that, just trudged on across the street, eyes trained on the homemade pizza that would soon be in my future.
I was walking back across the street a handful of minutes later with a warm pie in my hands when I approached my truck to find Augusta Belle perched on the seat, passenger door open and a bottle of booze between her thighs.
“Christ,” I muttered under my breath as she took a slow swig with her lips, throat contracting in numerous swallows.
The way she was hugging my best stuff made me think she’d been doin’ this a lot of nights, but that wasn’t any of my business. In fact, nothin’ about her was. I was just doing my duty to humanity, making sure she was fed and had a roof over her head.
“Pizza, party for two?” I flipped her the keycards in my palm, and she snagged one, pulling her backpack over one shoulder and tucking the whiskey bottle under her armpit before we pushed through the double doors of the hotel and headed for the third-floor room.
