Page 6 of Welded Defender
“Knock yourself out.” I hand him the keys and he leans into my car, and turns the key in the ignition. It whines but doesn't start. Landon tries again before popping the hood. He takes a look for a few minutes before stepping back, shaking his head.
“I don’t see an issue right off, but by the sounds of it, it might be leaking fuel. I’ll know better once we get it back to my shop and I can take a closer look.”
“Your shop?” I ask.
“You didn’t think I was driving a tow truck for kicks did you?” He grins. “Some buddies and I own and run the garage in Black Pines. I was looking for you after you left.” He chuckles. “And that sounds super creepy. But I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It was pure coincidence that you called my shop. I heard the name and thought I’d make sure if it was you that you weren’t left stranded for long.”
I stand there shivering in the snow, half-wondering if this is some sort of twisted way to pick up chicks. But I was the one who approached him at the bar and asked him to kiss me, not the other way around. Landon’s presence is both a balm anda barrier, stirring up emotions I’m not ready to confront. The adrenaline from earlier still tingles in my veins, but it’s mixed with a growing sense of safety that feels foreign. I don’t know how to reconcile this man’s kindness with the chaos that has been my life lately.
As he examines my car, I can’t help but notice the way his muscles ripple beneath his jacket, the way his confidence radiates like warmth on this freezing night. But then the memories of Brett claw at the back of my mind, scratching at the surface of my newfound peace. My heart is an erratic drumbeat in my chest, and it pulses through every fiber of my being as I remember Brett's threatening words.“See you soon, Marcy.”His voice is a haunting echo that reverberates in the chambers of my mind, refusing to be silenced.
“You’re cold,” Landon’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Come on. Let’s get you in my truck. You can warm up while I hitch up your car.”
I collect my purse from the car and clutch it like a lifeline. Landon leads me to the truck and opens the door for me, waiting as I climb up into the passenger seat. The seat is blanketed in a faded red-and-black checkered flannel blanket, covering the cracked vinyl peeking through. The dashboard is cluttered with tiny figurines—a blue plastic dinosaur, a bobblehead moose, a waving cat from a sushi restaurant. The air smells of pine needles and gasoline. Landon closes the door and gets to work on my car.
As I wait I mentally go over my budget. My tiny budget that barely has enough for a fresh start. Fixing my car is going to put a dent in that. I don’t know how far I can make it on what I’ll have left. I pull out my phone. My battery is quickly draining as I pull up my aunt’s contact information and send her a quick text.
Won’t be making it tonight. The car broke down and I’m getting it towed.
It’s only a couple minutes before her response comes in.
Are you safe?
I pull my knees up to my chest as I sit in the passenger seat. The silence presses down like a weight, and I can’t help but glance at him through the windshield. He’s focused, brow furrowed, muscles straining against his jacket as he works. He’s handsome, in a rugged country boy kind of way. Nothing like the guys I’ve known in the city. Glittering snowflakes catch in his thick beard but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care.
Landon glances up and catches me staring. He winks before flashing a grin. My cheeks heat and I duck my head, not letting myself look again.
I occupy myself by typing a response to my aunt.
I’m fine. I’ll find a place to stay for the night and let you know how the car is in the morning.
Do you need any money for a hotel?
Even though it’s only a text I still burn with embarrassment. How have I lost my way so much that even as a grown ass woman my aunt feels the need to offer me cash?
I’m fine. I got this covered. Talk soon.
I just finish sending the message when the door swings open and Landon steps up into the truck. “Good to go. Sorry about the mess—I haven’t had a chance to clear things out since the last snowstorm.”
He checks his mirrors before pulling out onto the road. His hands are easy on the wheel as he steers us back in the direction I just came from.
“How long have you lived up here?” I ask, after several long minutes of awkward silence.
“Born and raised,” he says. “Left for a while, bounced around the country, but the pines have a way of pulling you back. Or so my mother claims.” He makes a turn and then looks at me. “What about you? You like living in a city?”
I shrug. “I guess. It’s all I’ve ever really known.”
“Never thought about trying a slower pace of life?”
“It’s crossed my mind from time to time. I think it does for most city folk. Every so often we get tired of the traffic or the hustle and bustle, and think about throwing in the towel. But then we remember that we wouldn’t be close to a Starbucks and that shuts things down pretty quick.”
Landon laughs. The sound is deep and rumbling.
I find myself leaning against the cool glass of the window, watching the snow swirl in flurries. The world outside feels like a distant memory; it seems almost unreal compared to the warmth that radiates from Landon’s presence beside me.
“Do you ever get tired of all this?” I ask, motioning vaguely at the towering pines hidden by the darkness and falling snow.
“Tired of epic views and fresh mountain air?”
