m-mean—”
“I know, and I do, but I’ll worry far less if I know you’re okay.”
And I’d not only have to deal with my past, but his as well. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. “I’ll think about it.”
***
We drove for a few hours toward home after dropping off the trailer, but a massive storm rolled in, leaving almost no visibility and slowing the traffic to a crawl. Every flash of lighting and rumble of thunder amped up my anxiety, but as long as it was storming and we were on the road, there was no way I was sleeping.
“I'm going to have to get off the road soon,” Ben said.
“Okay,” I whispered, trying to daydream away the storm. “I go where you go.”
The rain slammed against the windshield and I jerked, scrunching down in my seat.
“Where I go might be a rest stop, but we'd be stuck in the truck all night.”
I shrugged. We’d already shared a bed twice. What was one more? One night in a cramped compartment with the promise of him nearby. Maybe that was too good.
Ben pulled off at the next large truck stop. The parking lot was already packed with truckers who were smart enough to get off the road long before us, but he found a good spot in the back, and as soon as he cut the engine, I grabbed my phone off the charger and ducked into the back of the truck.
I was exhausted. Between the storm and the rest of the events over the last twenty-four hours, I needed to shut down. I pulled out my bag and started to dig for my anxiety meds. I stared at the bottle for a moment but dropped it in favor of my music.
I scrolled through, picking a Halestorm playlist and cuing up one of the louder songs before popping the earbuds in my ears and curling up. It wouldn't chase away the feel of the storm, the rumble that the thunder sent shaking through my chest, but it gave me some relief from the onslaught of noises. The drums drained out the water pelting the roof and sides of the truck. I squeezed my eyes closed trying to ride the flow of music somewhere else.
Even though I was already in the only place I wanted to be. Two songs played through, leaving me on a deadening riff that carried on to the next slower song. I reached for my phone when the mattress shifted and Ben's hand caught my outstretched hand. I took a long breath and opened my eyes. The cab was dark and I couldn't see the storm, but opening my eyes still reminded me of its raging existence.
Ben's lips moved, but it was hard to tell if he made any sound. “You okay?”
I nodded and slid toward the back side of the mattress against the wall. As Ben stretched out next to me, the words in my ears encouraged letting walls down, letting someone in to help, no longer holding back. Words so meaningful that I couldn't bear to skip the song.
Ben tugged at the cord. “What are you listening to?”
I offered him one ear piece, facing the sounds of the storm in lieu of a connection with him. Albeit a thin meaningless wire.
Another song—even slower than the last—but just as powerful. This one begging to be let in. I closed my eyes and drifted away on the lyrics and music. Ben's arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, secure, in our tiny shelter against the wind and lightning.
Ben pressed his lips to my temple, and I felt defenseless.
On the brink of sleep, thunder cracked and the truck shifted. I jerked upright, ripping the earpiece out.
“It's okay Cas. Just the wind.” Ben's arms were hesitant, but this time I wasn't stuck in a flashback. I just needed away from the storm.
I dropped against his chest, where I could hear his heartbeat. Closing my eyes, I focused on Ben’s fingers moving slowly through my hair.
“Remember when I stayed at your house during Rach's dance competition?” I asked.
“First time you watched a football game,” he said quietly forcing me to concentrate on his words rather than the storm. “First time I got you to talk to me. And then, I couldn't seem to get you to shut up.”
I spent the rest of the
“I know, and I do, but I’ll worry far less if I know you’re okay.”
And I’d not only have to deal with my past, but his as well. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. “I’ll think about it.”
***
We drove for a few hours toward home after dropping off the trailer, but a massive storm rolled in, leaving almost no visibility and slowing the traffic to a crawl. Every flash of lighting and rumble of thunder amped up my anxiety, but as long as it was storming and we were on the road, there was no way I was sleeping.
“I'm going to have to get off the road soon,” Ben said.
“Okay,” I whispered, trying to daydream away the storm. “I go where you go.”
The rain slammed against the windshield and I jerked, scrunching down in my seat.
“Where I go might be a rest stop, but we'd be stuck in the truck all night.”
I shrugged. We’d already shared a bed twice. What was one more? One night in a cramped compartment with the promise of him nearby. Maybe that was too good.
Ben pulled off at the next large truck stop. The parking lot was already packed with truckers who were smart enough to get off the road long before us, but he found a good spot in the back, and as soon as he cut the engine, I grabbed my phone off the charger and ducked into the back of the truck.
I was exhausted. Between the storm and the rest of the events over the last twenty-four hours, I needed to shut down. I pulled out my bag and started to dig for my anxiety meds. I stared at the bottle for a moment but dropped it in favor of my music.
I scrolled through, picking a Halestorm playlist and cuing up one of the louder songs before popping the earbuds in my ears and curling up. It wouldn't chase away the feel of the storm, the rumble that the thunder sent shaking through my chest, but it gave me some relief from the onslaught of noises. The drums drained out the water pelting the roof and sides of the truck. I squeezed my eyes closed trying to ride the flow of music somewhere else.
Even though I was already in the only place I wanted to be. Two songs played through, leaving me on a deadening riff that carried on to the next slower song. I reached for my phone when the mattress shifted and Ben's hand caught my outstretched hand. I took a long breath and opened my eyes. The cab was dark and I couldn't see the storm, but opening my eyes still reminded me of its raging existence.
Ben's lips moved, but it was hard to tell if he made any sound. “You okay?”
I nodded and slid toward the back side of the mattress against the wall. As Ben stretched out next to me, the words in my ears encouraged letting walls down, letting someone in to help, no longer holding back. Words so meaningful that I couldn't bear to skip the song.
Ben tugged at the cord. “What are you listening to?”
I offered him one ear piece, facing the sounds of the storm in lieu of a connection with him. Albeit a thin meaningless wire.
Another song—even slower than the last—but just as powerful. This one begging to be let in. I closed my eyes and drifted away on the lyrics and music. Ben's arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, secure, in our tiny shelter against the wind and lightning.
Ben pressed his lips to my temple, and I felt defenseless.
On the brink of sleep, thunder cracked and the truck shifted. I jerked upright, ripping the earpiece out.
“It's okay Cas. Just the wind.” Ben's arms were hesitant, but this time I wasn't stuck in a flashback. I just needed away from the storm.
I dropped against his chest, where I could hear his heartbeat. Closing my eyes, I focused on Ben’s fingers moving slowly through my hair.
“Remember when I stayed at your house during Rach's dance competition?” I asked.
“First time you watched a football game,” he said quietly forcing me to concentrate on his words rather than the storm. “First time I got you to talk to me. And then, I couldn't seem to get you to shut up.”
I spent the rest of the
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