Page 83 of Trucker
“Mayson. Don’t do that alpha thing where you try to protect me from everything.”
He hung his head.
“I went to stock up on a few things.” I began then coughed. “Water?”
“Sure.”
He quickly rushed from the room and returned with a cup filled with ice-cubes. After I sucked one gone, he fed me another.
“I picked up a new camera, laptop and—” I continued, then remembered what else I bought and flushed.
“And?”
“I was leaving the tech store and for some reason I was thinking about our time together.” I cleared my throat. “And I started thinking I didn’t have anything sexy to wear for you.”
I averted my eyes.
“You don’t really need anything sexy to wear.”
“Just…”
“I’m serious.” Trucker was insistent.
“I get it.” I offered him a smile.
Trucker nodded, but he still had that crease in the center of his forehead that stretched down between his eyes. He was still in protective lover mode, and I didn’t think he’d stand down until my story was finished.
“So, I stopped at a store to pick up a few things.” I confessed. “I was on my way back when someone in a red SUV rammed me from behind.”
I held his hand tighter, needing the strength from him.
“I thought it was an accident.” I continued. “Maybe they were following too close, on their phone or fiddling with their radio—but I soon figured it wasn’t that.”
I had flashbacks.
“Then they hit me a second time and I knew, it couldn’t be an accident.” He continued. “I tried getting them to go around but they just pulled up beside me and crashed into the side of my car. Oh my god, Trucker, they tried to kill me!”
I couldn’t breathe.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as the realization swam in on me, slamming into my soul like a tidal wave.
“They were trying to kill me!”
“Shh.” Trucker climbed into the bed beside me. “It’s okay and I got you. You’re safe—I promise.”
He drew me into the warmth of his body and held on to me. It was as if I was being folded into the world’s warmest blanket—a bullet proof blanket that kept me safe.
I tried desperately to ward off a panic attack as it coiled into my chest like a fist. It had been years since I suffered through one—and it wasn’t fun.
As it grew worse, I turned my face into his chest and resting my forehead against his chin.
Trucker’s arms tightened around me as much as they could and I ignored the slight pain it all caused and moaned.
We stayed that way until the doctor came in to check on me followed by a nurse with something for me to eat.
Frowning into the bowl I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.
“What is this?” I asked her.
