Of all things that could happen to me today, this is thelastthing I needed; stranded on the side of the road miles away from Stillwater as smoke billows out from under the hood of my car. I’ve been working at The Ape Hanger for almost a week and for my first day off, all I wanted to do was to take an afternoon out for myself and cross into Clydesdale, a town about an hour’s drive away, grab a bite to eat, maybe do a little retail therapy. Anything to help me forget all the shit with my dad and his constant passive aggressiveness where law school is concerned. I wanted to flush out the traitorous thoughts I have regarding a certain bearded biker who hasinvaded my mind far more than I’d like, and instead I’m stood here in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, the exact thoughts I’ve been trying to silence.
There’s no signal out here, so trying to call for help is pointless. I climb up onto the trunk and let me legs dangle off the end, staring down the endless road that disappears into the distance. There’s nothing out here, except for a few cows in the field to my left and a wide expanse of nothing to my right.
All I can do is wait, and hope that someone comes along soon so I can hitch a ride back to town while also hoping they’re not a murderer or a rapist and I end up bundled into the trunk of a car never to be seen again.
The autumn sun is warm on my skin, but there’s a slight chill in the air as a strong breeze sweeps through, blowing a piece of tumbleweed across the road. With nothing else to do, I watch the breeze carry it away until it blends into the nothingness that surrounds me.
After what feels like an hour, the deep rumble of an engine has my head snapping up, my heart lifting as a black truck approaches me.Thank god.I jump off the trunk and wave down the driver, but as the truck nears me, I snag a glance at the driver and I groan.
When I said earlier that my car breaking down was the last thing I needed, I lied. The last thing I needed today was the first car in forever to pass by me to be driven by none other than KillianfuckingHunt.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble as Killian pulls up in front of my car and switches off the engine before swinging out thedriver’s door.
He’s dressed in his usual black t-shirt that hugs every chiselled inch of his upper body and the ripped jeans that ride low on his hips. I realise too late that I’ve been eyeing him up for far too long because his mouth stretches into a knowing grin. “You need rescuing, darlin’?”
I fold my arms over my chest, lifting my chin. “Not by you.”
“Ouch.” He slaps his hand to his chest like he’s offended while he rounds the side of my car, leans in and pulls the lever that pops the hood. “You know, for someone stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, it sure looks like you do.”
“Remember what I was saying a while back about Ted Bundy?” I ask.
He laughs, lifting the hood to take a look at the problem. “How could I forget being likened to a serial killer? It’s one of the few highlights of my life,” he says sarcastically, shooting me a sideways glance.
“Could you maybenotenjoy this so much?”
He rests a hand against my car and turns to me. “Why would I enjoy having to rescue a pretentious princess off the side of the road who very clearly doesn’t want me here?”
“Pretentious?” I scoff. “Are you serious?”
How dare he?
“You clearly have a very low opinion of me and a very high opinion of yourself. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the Watson family tree, huh?”
I stumble backwards, the reference to my father comes at me like one of his punches last week.
Thatone hurt.
“I wondered how long it was gonna take for you to bring up my father. Are you ever going to let this stupid little grudgego?”
He barks a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea how far thisstupid little grudgegoes for me. Besides, it’s kind of hard considering he just got Myles’ fiancée suspended.”
I stop. “He what?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t know since you seem to know me and my club so well, I’d have thought you’d be all clued up on what daddy’s up to.”
“You do realise I’m not privy to what my father does, right? I barely even speak to him and he only acknowledges I’m there when I’ve done something to upset him.”
“And yet you still believe everything he’s told you about me and my club. You know what you are? You’re a hypocrite.”
“H—How am I a hypocrite?”
“What was it you said before? You can make up your own mind about me? Yet all you’ve done since we met is judge me based on the shit your father has told you despite not even attempting to get to know me.”
“Then stop proving him right! You know what, forget it. Just go on with your day and forget you ever saw me, okay? I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, okay. If you’re sure.” He shrugs, slamming the hood closed then turns back towards his truck.
I watch him retreat, thinking on what he said. It struck a cord because deep down I know it’s true. I am a hypocrite. Even knowing what my father is like, I let his opinions of the club dictate my own.
