As expected, the fucking traffic going through Atlanta does not cooperate.
There's construction on I-75 about forty miles in, two lanes narrowed down to one, orange cones everywhere. Brake lights stretch out ahead of me like a red river. I sit in the crawl, fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel, watching the minutes tick by.
I text Jay at a dead stop. "Stuck in traffic. Construction zone. Might be late. Sorry."
His reply comes a minute later. "How late?"
"Don't know yet. We're moving again now."
"Ok. See you when you get here. Drive safe."
The traffic clears, finally opening up, and I push the speed limit the rest of the way. I know I shouldn't. I know a speeding ticket would eat up all the overtime I just earned. But every minute feels stolen from us.
By the time I pull into the Vista Inn parking lot, my hands are cramped from gripping the steering wheel. My eyes feel gritty. The exhaustion has settled deep into my bones.
It's ten, according to my dashboard clock.
Jay probably hasn't gotten off work yet at Betty's. I park the truck and kill the engine, leaning my head back against the seat. I close my eyes. Just for a second, I tell myself.
I wake to a tapping on the window, sharp and insistent.
Jay is standing outside the truck, still in his work clothes, worn jeans and a t-shirt that says Betty's Diner, grease stains on the front. There's a worried look on his face, his eyebrows drawn together.
I blink, disoriented, and check the clock. I was out cold for ten minutes.
I open the door and stumble out, my legs stiff. "Sorry. I just closed my eyes for a second. Didn't mean to fall asleep."
"You scared me. I saw your truck pull in from the window, but then you didn't come up and you weren't moving." He reaches up and touches my face, his palm cool against my hot skin. "Jesus, Ivan. You're completely exhausted. You look like you're about to fall over."
"Long day. Ten hours of work, then a long drive." I lean into his hand, turning my face to kiss his palm. "Traffic was a nightmare."
"Come on. Let's get you inside before you collapse out here." His arm wraps around my waist, taking some of my weight.
We climb the stairs together, and I'm embarrassed by how much I'm leaning on him. My legs feel like jelly. He's half-supporting me, basically keeping me upright.
Jay unlocks the door and we stumble inside together. He kicks it closed behind us and turns to look at me, his dark eyes scanning my face with concern.
"You're here," he says, like he still can't quite believe it.
"I'm here. Barely. Told you I would be."
He crosses the distance between us and wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me down into a hug. I pull him close, one hand on the back of his head, the other pressed flat against his spine. He smells like dish soap and kitchen grease, and I don't care even a little bit.
"I missed you," I say into his hair.
"It's only been five days since you left."
"The longest five days of my life."
He pulls back just enough to look at my face, then wrinkles his nose. "We both need a shower. You smell like a construction site. Like drywall dust and copper wire."
"Well, you smell like a deep fryer and old coffee."
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You first though. You're exhausted."
"I might fall over in the shower. Might just sit down and let the water run over me."
"Then make it quick. Five minutes max."
