Page 2 of Before I Should Leave
The city lights blurred against the rain sliding down the window as we pulled off.
It was that thick, restless kind of rain.
The kind that made the roads slick and the evening feel heavier than usual.
Diesel drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift, long fingers tapping slowly like he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the storm or the traffic piling up around us.
I leaned back against the seat, adjusting my Birkin beside me and checking the time.
My flight was in two hours.
Barring an act of God or a crash on the interstate, I’d make it. Barely.
I cleared my throat, not meaning to speak but somehow hearing myself say.
“You used to drive for Elite?”
His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror; sharp and observant.
“Nah, a different company. I’m independent now. Just started takin’ clients through referrals a few months ago.”
“My assistant said you're ex-military?”
He nodded once.
“Yeah. Army. Got out a few years ago.”
I tilted my head slightly, watching his profile. Strong jawline. Nice beard. Not overly clean-cut but intentional. Even the tattoos seemed deliberate, not sloppy or impulsive.
“And now you drive?”
His mouth curved just a little.
“You say that like I should be doin’ somethin’ else.”
I blinked.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Mmm.”
He didn’t press it, just refocused on the road like he had all night to read me slowly.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t calm either. It was… loaded like a waiting room before a confrontation. Like two people playing polite when they both lowkey wanted to say something slick.
I shifted in my seat, annoyed at myself for even noticing how good he looked. That wasn’t me. I didn’t flirt with strangers or do th.
“meet-cute”
thing. I was thirty-seven, booked, busy, and not in the market for any kind of distraction, especially not one that drove for a living and looked like he could make you forget your morals.
“So what made you start this?”
I asked, just to break the silence.
“Driving, I mean.”
He paused.
“It’s good money. No boss over my shoulder. No desk. People get in, I get ‘em where they gotta go. I’m cool wit' that.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Even with people like me?”
“You’re not the worst I’ve had.”
That made me smirk.
“Not the worst, huh?”
“Nah. You’re… sharp. Got a lil’ fire in you.”
His eyes met mine again through the mirror, and the way he said it didn’t feel like a compliment but like a dare.
I looked out the window again, biting down a smile. I wasn’t about to give this man the satisfaction of seeing he was getting under my skin. But he was in that subtle, slow drip kind of way. Traffic slowed on the freeway, red brake lights glowing through the rain like a warning.
“You might wanna call the airline and let ‘em know you on the way,”
he said, voice low and even.
“Looks like we gon' be sittin’ in this for a minute.”
I checked the app on my phone, cussed under my breath, and dialed. After a few minutes of going through prompts and verifying my confirmation number, I got off the line with a seat still held and my anxiety bubbling just under the surface. I glanced forward.
“This whole stretch is at a standstill.”
He nodded once, calm as ever.
“Storm must’ve knocked a tree or somethin’. Could be an accident, too.”
“You’re very… unbothered by all this.”
He chuckled, eyes still focused ahead.
“You want me to panic? Might as well both be stressed out, huh?”
I shook my head, crossing one leg over the other.
“No. I just… I’m not used to this.”
“I noticed.”
I looked at him, narrowing my eyes slightly.
“Oh, you noticed?”
“I did. From the moment you got in.”
His voice was smooth but solid.
“You used to takin’ charge of shit. Commandin’ a room. Callin’ shots.”
“Am I?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ it,”
he said.
“Just means I know what I’m dealin’ wit’.”
I felt something warm twist low in my stomach. Not from what he said, but how he said it. Cool. Confident. Like he’d already figured me out without trying too hard. He pulled off the exit without warning, sliding into a side street as the GPS re-routed. The sound of rain thudding on the roof filled the silence between us for a moment.
“Shortcut?” I asked.
“Back way. It’s longer distance-wise but faster tonight.”
“You sure?”
“I gotchu.”
That shouldn’t have made me feel anything but it did. The words were simple and unemotional, but there was something in the way he said it that made me feel… seen. Like, for once, I could unclench my jaw. Like maybe I didn’t have to hold it all up by myself tonight.
I looked at him again. His grip on the wheel. The way his voice didn’t change even when he turned down a flooded road. The stillness in his movements was like nothing could rattle him. Not storms or traffic. Not me. And that might’ve been the problem.