Page 44 of Truck Up

Rather than answer her, I pull her into my arms and kiss her like it’s the last time we’ll ever kiss. This woman deserves so much better than me. If I were a wiser man, I’d never have let things get this serious between us. But here we are.

I release her, rub my thumb over her cheek one more time, and then slide out of her car. I shut the door behind me without a word.

“Christian,” she calls out. I turn around to see her standing outside the driver’s side door. “I meant what I said in there. I love you.”

Her words make my chest hurt in ways I never knew were possible. Shoving my fingers into my hair, I spin around. I can’t look at her when I hurt this much. I squeeze my eyes closed and take several deep breaths.

“You shouldn’t,” I whisper.

“Yes, I should,” she says with all the strength and certainty I’ve come to know she possesses. “And one day you’ll accept it.”

I turn around and meet her determined stare. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. If I return her sentiment, then we’re both doomed to a life of hell and misery. I can’t do that to her.

Instead, I nod and walk away. She may end up hating me for leaving her at a time like this, but the day will come when she thanks me for it. I need time to get my head on straight before I screw things up worse than I already have.

It’s the best thing I can do for her.

Posey’s Lounge,the local biker bar, is slow for a Friday night. It may be owned by the local motorcycle club, but all the locals frequent it. It’s the only bar near Beaver where we can go out for drinks, billiards, terrible music, and even worse, dancing.

Largely because the corporation limits of Beaver are dry. Stupid if you ask me. We’re a German settlement with thelamest Oktoberfest in the history of Oktoberfests. What German community doesn’t drink beer?

But we have Posey’s just a few miles outside town. It’s a rough hole-in-the-wall, but that doesn’t stop us from going.

Fridays are karaoke nights, and I suspect the usual attendees are at Grams’s birthday celebration-turned-disaster. I imagine the news Amelia and I dropped on them will keep them occupied for quite some time. I hope that means I can sit here and drink in peace.

I take a seat at the bar and glance around. There are a few members of the MC here with their women, a couple of locals I don’t know well, and that’s it.

A woman who looks like she’s seen better days and needs a new wardrobe is on stage singing. Badly I might add. Her skirt is so short it barely covers her ass. She’s wearing fishnet stockings that have large holes throughout. They should have been tossed ages ago. Her shirt is a thin tank top that’s falling off her shoulders. She’s too thin, and the sunken look on her face suggests heavy drug use.

I shake my head, grateful that’s no longer my life. Even at my lowest, I never would have gotten on that stage to sing. I don’t care how strung I out I used to get. Me and singing will never happen. But the drugs. They used to rule. Still do to a degree even though I don’t touch them anymore. Curse of a recovering addict.

“Hey Christian. Your usual beer?” Sally asks. He’s one of the oldest members of the MC and one of the nicest. No one knows his real name, not even the new president, and he refuses to tell anyone. He earned the nickname Sally years ago because of his obsession with Sally Field.

I shake my head. “Need something stronger tonight. Whiskey straight.”

“Bad night, huh?” he asks before he turns to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels. Not my favorite whiskey, but the options are slim at Posey’s. You drink what they’ve got or you don’t drink at all.

“Something like that,” I say as he sets the glass in front of me. I down it in one gulp and slide it back, ready for a refill. “Is Edge around?”

“He’s in the office.” Sally nods toward the door to the side of the stage. “He won’t mind the interruption if you want to go talk to him.”

“Thanks.” I grab the fresh drink Sally hands me and take my leave. A few of the members nod and wave as I make my way to Edge’s office, but no one bothers to talk to me. They all know I’m not much of a talker. If I have something to say, I’ll say it. Many of the club members are the same way. One of the many perks of this dive bar.

I knock on Edge’s door. A few seconds pass before I hear him call out. “Come in.”

I crack the door and poke my head around it. “Got a minute?”

“Christian.” The way he says my name suggests he’s surprised to see me. “Shouldn’t you be at Grams’s birthday party?”

“Got cut short.”

He raises his brow. “Oh, yeah?”

I wave him off and take a seat opposite his desk. “I’m sure you’ll know the entire story by morning.”

He chuckles. “In this town, I’m sure I’ll know before my head hits the pillow tonight.”

“Truth.” I take a sip of my whiskey before leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. “I need to disappear for a few. Got any jobs I can go on?”

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