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My key doesn’t hold any special button to open the trunk, so once my door is open, I bend over, trying not to flash this man, and search for the switch.

Honestly, I have no idea where the thing is, and I don't want to appear brainless. I’m right outside the driver’s side door when the warm presence engulfs my back.

I peer to the side, and in my peripheral, the tall tow truck guy leans over me.

One hand braces the Honda's roof, the other on the door frame.

He has me trapped and if I were to stand, I would seriously head butt tow man into the next universe.

I also really wish I knew his name so I can stop calling him tow man or Mr. Grouch.

He leans forward, reaching, arms almost touching when the trunk pops open, all feeling of warmth leaving my back. Then the sound of his work boots hitting the pavement grows faint.

About a minute later, he slams my trunk shut, allowing me to get a good look at his face again. “You don’t have a spare.”

We both seem to share the same tired and frustrated energy. This is the result of finding the old car online. I hadn’t really thought about checking if it had a spare.

“Huh,” I reply, faking my ignorance.

He grunts, stalking back to where I stand, and I huddle through the open door. He doesn’t frighten me in a murderous way anymore, but a girl can’t be too safe.

He runs a hand over the short beard that covers his sharp jaw. “I have to tow your car to my shop and get you a tire.”

Perfect.

“Oh.” I hug my middle as a small gust of wind blows by.

He eyes my legs for a split second before turning away and climbing his body into the front of his truck.

Is he leaving me?

He drives around and parks in front of my car and for about five minutes he does his thing before hooking the chain to it.

After he’s finished, he returns to his driver’s side door, opens it, but then pauses, eyeing me like I know what should be happening. “You have to ride with me.”

Right. Makes sense. At least he isn’t leaving me. But why would he do that, anyway? I mentally roll my eyes at myself. Oh, well. This should be fun and not remotely uncomfortable.

I need to boost myself up to get into the passenger side, where I take a quick nosey look around.

I’ll admit I am a bit surprised when I find it clean, except for a couple of empty water bottles lying around.

Normally, work vehicles are filthy. Another rude stereotype I picked up from my bastard stepfather.

Not all such workers lacked cleanliness.

Neither of us speak during the ride. To be fair, what can we talk about? Ask him his favorite color? What kind of music does he listen to? Country? Alternative? He seems like a classic rock guy, in my opinion. Asking those types of questions doesn’t seem legal because he isn’t very personable.

The scent of cedar mixed with a rich pine invades the space and I’m not complaining. It’s manly and smells good. I wonder if it’s the soap he uses.

I rub my bare legs trying to get warmth back into them. It’s not quite Autumn, but tonight is chilly in Vermont. Mr. Grouch must have noticed because he reaches forward to turn on the heat.

Well, that’s nice of him.

I glance over and his presence makes the cab of the truck seem smaller. Besides the rattling of the chains behind us, there’s nothing but silence.

With the slight motion of the vehicle, my eyes grow heavy, sleep tempting me like a carrot dangling in front of a rabbit.

But the thought of sleeping next to a man I met a whole five minutes ago feels weird.

With everything ending, and the adrenaline slowly depleting, my body, mind, and soul are exhausted. Utterly exhausted.

I fight like hell to force my eyes to stay open, but I lose the battle.

With a jolt, my eyes fly open and that’s when I realize I had the best sleep in what feels like ages. Even if it had only been minutes.

“We’re almost there.”

With heat rising from my neck meeting at my cheeks, the embarrassment pours out of me, and I straighten in my seat. At least there’s no drool evidence anywhere.

I turn my head to yawn when I notice the thick oak sign reading Sunlight Creek.

Well, damn, that’s convenient. This is the same town Lana lives in. The town I was headed for. A slight weight lifts off my shoulders.

Out my window, the side-by-side businesses blur by, giving me a quick surge of nostalgia.

Lana moved here right after graduation and that was the last time I visited. The last time we could ever really hangout. Not that I had options. Even so, the guilt punches me right in the gut.

The rattly noise from the truck heightens as we turn into a gravel lot with an average-looking building that reads: George’s Tow Service.

How generically simple. You can tell it’s not a vast company, but a small, single owner business just by how it stands.

But I’m not entirely surprised. Most businesses here are mom and pop stores.

Mr. Grump exits first, circles the truck, then opens my door. I just about fall out, figuratively speaking, of course. It’s from the shock alone. To be honest, I don’t believe this man to be mean, maybe a tad rude, like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but not cold-hearted.

His broad back faces me as he heads toward the garage. Opening my door was an unanticipated gesture, but I would have welcomed it. And would it have killed him to wait for me?

As I catch up to him, he unlocks the front door and flips on the light, revealing a counter with a register almost dead center.

On one side, there’s a couch, and opposite stands a long table by the wall, featuring a coffeemaker and to-go cups.

There are complimentary chips as well, which don’t exactly go with coffee but can’t be meticulous with free snacks. It’s the thought that counts.

“Wait here while I get the new tire on. Shouldn’t take too long.” He nods over to the couch with the same straight-faced expression, and I plop down half expecting it to be comfortable, but my spine immediately jolts in pain.

“Thanks, George,” I tell him as I rub the pain out of my lower back.

His shoulders go stiff as he glares at me. “My name’s not George.”

Confusion strikes me. “Oh. Sorry. I thought—”

“I’ll be back in a few.”

The door closes, and within minutes, I hear the start of the chain lift.

I strum my fingers on the sticky couch, realizing I’m going to need a serious shower when I get to Lana’s place.

Not just to wash off the uncomfortableness of the couch, but to get rid of all the shit I’ve gone through.

With these distractions, I haven’t been able to fully process everything, but as I sit here in the silence, I’m reminded that while I am a grown ass woman, being on the run is extremely terrifying.

With the ticking of the clock on the wall and nothing but clanking noises from the back, my eyes grow heavy. It’s not just physical exhaustion, but mental as well. Knowing damn well I’m going to fall asleep again, I accept it.

It felt like I was out for hours when a gentle shake on my shoulder wakes me.

With panic rendering me frightened, I frantically scan the area, forgetting for a half second where I am.

Two bright eyes stare at me, leveled with mine and I realize not George is crouching down by the couch where I sit.

He’s studying me. His eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit.

And if I move an inch, my leg will brush his knee.

The air is suddenly thick, my throat has never been dryer, and it’s significantly harder to breathe.

“Done,” he says nonchalantly while still holding my gaze.

“Great,” I say in a fast tone. “Thank you.” I swallow, rubbing the haziness from my eye and probably smearing last night’s makeup.

He stands and I follow suit, him handing me my keys.

“What do I owe you?” I hope for a reasonable bill since I don’t have my credit card, and I only brought so much cash.

Saving up for the escape was the simple part. I used the tips I earned. Even when Jason held out his hands at the end of the night for me to place the money into, I was able to sneak a twenty here and there.

Not George hesitates before answering, “Nothing. I had an extra spare. But you’re going to have to replace all four of your tires at some point. And soon.”

My mouth gapes open. He is seriously not going to charge me. Is he for real?

“But… you drove all that way to get me, towed my car to your shop, and now you’re giving me a new tire. I don’t understand.”

“It’s not a new tire. And like I said, you’ll need to get them all replaced. Especially before winter.” He pretends to be busy writing something down. “I was already heading your way, anyhow.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but I decide not to press it. Normally, I wouldn’t accept such generosity, but I’m desperate and it’s nice to not have bad luck hovering over me for once. I’ll worry about the guilt eating away at me later.

“I deeply appreciate this. You have no idea. Thank you. And tell George I said thanks, too.”

His right brow twitches, and without looking up, he lets out a grunt. I take that as you’re welcome before leaving the shop.

I give the tire a once over before thunder rumbles through the once silent night sky and the clouds open, drenching me within seconds.

Perfect.