Page 7 of All I Need

I TELL MYSELF TO STOP the car, turn around, do anything but follow Walker’s command to follow him but for some reason I can’t get my body to catch up with my head.

I do exactly as he told me to and follow his beast of a black pickup back the way I just came. Out of the driver’s side window, I can see his elbow sticking out as he leans against the door, driving with just his right hand resting on top of the wheel.

“Stop it,” I mutter, annoyed with myself for noticing every little detail and paying closer attention to watching him through the back window of his jacked-up pickup than my surroundings.

The only thing I know about Walker McKinstry is just that—his name. And the fact that he’s drop dead sexy with his arm tattoos and scruff, and has a nephew named Grayson. He could be a serial killer, his nephew could actually be someone else entirely—like his accomplice. Maybe they drive around searching for stranded motorists along the highway and tell them to follow and… oh God. I’m such an idiot.

My heart begins racing as my mind plays a loop of all the horror movies I’ve ever watched. Dumb girl follows muscles around with her tongue hanging out and bam! She’s the next victim.

I reach down and do a quick check of my phone to make sure I have plenty of bars and battery, you know, in case I need to report an attempted murder. The little red box next to my text message icon reads 42 and I’m sure if I opened up my voicemails it would be similar. But right now, in my mini crisis of wondering if I’m the next casualty of the gorgeous highway murderer, the people on the other end of my phone don’t bring me an ounce of comfort.

Just before we reach Liberty, the same town I had driven through about an hour before. Before I decided I needed to get rid of all of Gary’s possessions carefully packed and placed in the trunk for our honeymoon—gag. Following Walker, I turn down a side road. To the left is an enormous Victorian style home with a sign out front that reads The Clover Leaf Inn.

He pulls off on the side of the road and parks in front of the almost majestic house, waving his arm slightly to direct me to park in the driveway. Which, of course, I do, because I’ve apparently lost all sense of reason and have become his little pet.

I sit in the driver’s seat of Gary’s pretentious Mercedes, annoyed that the soft leather seats are like butter against my skin, and stare at the gorgeous home. With its pale-yellow siding and bright white shutters that match the beams bracing the wrap around porch, it closely resembles a doll house I once had as a young girl. A sense of nostalgia hits me as I recall the birthday my parents gave it to me when I turned eight. Little did I know at the time; the extravagant gift was only to soften the blow of the news that they were getting a divorce.

Slowly climbing out of the car, I don’t take my eyes off the Inn. The landscaping around the porch is obviously cared for a great deal. Large green and pink hydrangea bushes are in full bloom and rose bushes of varying shades are trimmed to perfection. It’s breathtaking.

I reach inside and grab my purse off the passenger seat and shut the car door and pressed the button on the key fob to lock the door. Before I take my first step, the screen door squeaks open and a curvy gray-haired woman with an apron on walks out. She lifts a hand to wave me over but my feet stay grounded. Suddenly Walker is by my side.

His nearness catches me off guard and I startle. He cups a hand around my elbow to steady me. The contrast of his calloused palm on my soft skin sends a zip through my body. “That’s Miss Polly,” he says simply, not giving me any more to go off of than her name, much like I know about him.

I turn my head to look up at him rather than the house. His eyes a deep shade of brown stare back down at me. “You’ll be safe here. Miss Polly, she’ll take good care of you.”

“I’m supposed to believe you, huh?” I can’t help but snark.

His hand is still touching me and much to my dismay, I like it a little too much.

“You can trust me.”

Four words.

That’s all it takes to bring me back to reality. How many times have I been told that before? When my parents divorced and my mom said I could trust her, that life would carry on as a new normal and they’d both still be there for me. Even though they’d never really been there for me to begin with. I spent most of my childhood alone then Dad moved away, leaving me alone with Mom who blamed me for the demise of their marriage. My nights were spent not knowing if she would come home. An endless string of men coming in and out of the house and I was just in her way. The unfortunate baggage she was left to deal with. I learned early on how to cook basic foods simply because she wasn’t there to do it for me. The local food pantry had a back door that I would sneak into to fill our cupboards. Mom never questioned where it came from. Never cared enough. As long as I wasn’t bothering her or asking her for anything, life was good.

One would think it would be the ideal way for a teenager to live. No parental supervision. It’s not. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I didn’t have the support of one of the counselors at the high school, I never would have received the financial aid and scholarships that allowed me to go to college because she certainly didn’t care what my future looked like.

I was just a sophomore in college when I fell in love with Michael—and his family. He asked me to be his wife only a few months after we started dating. He was a few years older than me and about to graduate and didn’t want to leave without me. Everyone told me I was crazy but I had spent so much of my life searching for love and when I finally had it, there was no way I was letting go. Especially when his parents had welcomed me into their family with such wide-open arms. It was an incredible feeling, to have unconditional love, people who supported me, remembered my birthday. It’s why I ignored all the signs of who he really was. A few months before our wedding day, he cheated on me. Of course, I didn’t find out he got the woman pregnant until I was about a week away from walking down the aisle. And I only did because I overheard him talking about it with his best man.

One-night stand or not, I knew I would never be able to look him in the eye again and not think about him with another woman. It messed me up. I couldn’t trust my own instincts with men. I had no basis for knowing what true love looked like. Looking back, he wasn’t a bad guy. Sure, I was needy and likely overwhelming with my desire for reassurance and declarations of love, but it’s no excuse. If he wanted out of the relationship, he should have just said so. Even with friends, I wouldn’t allow myself to open up or let people in. Then later when Crystal introduced me to Gary—the pompous ass—they both said I could trust them with my life, my heart. And well, we know how well that turned out. I was such an idiot. How did I not see it happening?

Trust may as well be a four-letter word as much as it’s screwed me over.

As to not make a scene in front of Miss Polly, I gently pull my arm from his grasp.

“Trust isn’t something I have the luxury of giving.”

I move past him, ignoring the confused look on his face, and walk toward the Inn. Miss Polly has her arm out, ready to welcome me. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, she pulls me in for a hug despite not ever being introduced to one another.

“Come on in, Ellie.”

Obviously I don’t do a very good job at hiding the surprise at her knowing my name because she chuckles lightly. “Walker had Grayson call me. Let me know they were bringing you to me.”

I glance over my shoulder at Walker who’s still standing by my car, hands in his pockets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Sunday services,” Miss Polly calls to Walker. He nods over to Grayson and she shifts her focus to him, who’s watching out his window he has rolled down. “You, too, young man,” she adds in a way that makes it clear they will be seeing her tomorrow.

“Only if you make me fried chicken for lunch afterward,” Grayson shouts back.

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