Meet Me Halfway(14)

I puckered my lips, pretending to consider it, then shrugged and nodded my head. She was right, I was pessimistic as hell. Life had made sure of it.

“Speaking of male number two…when was the last time you called him?”

My entire body tensed, her words triggering my fight or flight response. And since there was no safe way to fly, I went with the first choice.

“Why would I call him?” I demanded, “I haven’t called him since the day the divorce was finalized.”

She darted her gaze at me, her eyes narrowing and lips curving down. “And when was the last time he called you?”

“Does it matter?”

“That recently, huh? What a fucking asshat. Seriously, I hope someone takes a shit in his exhaust pipe.”

I sighed, reaching up to rub my temples. It was too early in the trip to already be touching on sore subjects. “He’s called me a few times, but it’s always random and spaced out.” I paused, clasping my hands in my lap. “He called last week, late evening. Don’t give me that look, I didn’t answer.”

“Good. I’d fucking castrate you if you did. He was probably drunk.”

I nodded in agreement, but internally flinched. Her statement wasn’t meant to sting, but it did all the same. When we were together, Aaron had only cared about me when he was sober. Once we separated, he only cared when he was drunk.

A half-hour later, we were driving onto the gravel parking lot of a…company? Where in the hell were we? “Layla, are you sure this is the right place? It’s kinda shady looking.”

“Yeah, this is the address the guy gave me, and look, there’s the moving truck and car trailer parked over there.” She turned off her Miata, but neither of us moved as we glanced around, the same look of apprehension on our faces.

“O—kay. Let’s get this over with then. Keep your key between your fingers.”

She pinned me with a side glare, shoving her door open and hopping out. But as we rounded the vehicle, I could see the key sticking out between her fisted fingers.

Two grimy men, some suspiciously wrinkled paperwork, and one hour later, we were gunning it out of the parking lot. “Okay, you were right, that place was shady as fuck,” she said.

I responded with an exaggerated, wide-eyed nod. It had been the right place, they’d had paperwork ready for us and everything, but it had been the most awkward experience I’d had in a while.

The two men hadn’t even assisted us with getting Layla’s car onto the trailer. In fact, they’d acted like they’d never done it before in their lives, so we’d had to figure it out ourselves. It’d taken longer than we’d wanted, and we were now behind schedule.

“At least it was cheap.”





We arrived at the apartment she’d been sharing with a friend from college. We were both starving, but neither of us had felt confident attempting to grab a quick bite with the truck and trailer.

We’d be lucky if we made it the entire trip without getting stuck somewhere as it was. Our driving skills weren’t something to brag about even on the best of days.

But two hours, two sets of sore, shaking arms, and two pairs of sweaty pits and tits later, we were done packing.

“Why do you have so much stuff? Where are we going to put all of this?” I asked, sagging against the driver door. The thought of raising my noodle arms to hold the steering wheel for the next few hours sounded horrendous.

“It’s not as much as it looks. It’s mostly clothes. And shoes,” she said, walking toward the apartment door one last time.

I huffed a laugh. My fashion sense tended to be ‘thrift store snazzy,’ whereas Layla’s was ‘come get me sexy.’ She’d always had the most amazing closet.

“I really don’t think all your bedroom pieces and your music stuff will fit in the room, Layla. The rooms are small.”

“Eh, I’ll shove it all in the garage since you don’t use it. The acoustics will be bomb in there anyway.” She disappeared into the apartment to give one final look over and to grab her fur baby.

I walked around and gripped the rope to pull the rolling door shut, eyeing Layla’s keyboard and sound system. She’d been singing and performing since she was old enough to hold a guitar, and there was literally no one who could hold a candle to her. Banjo, violin, electric, twelve string, she could play them all.

During middle school, she’d even added piano to the mix. I was just patiently waiting for her to become famous and support me for the rest of my life like the dependable baby daddy she was.

Confirming the back was latched and wouldn’t fly open, I’d just started turning when something slammed into the backs of my knees, sending me forward and smacking my forehead into the truck.

“What the hell, Sadie?” I yelled, shooting a glare at the wet nose and lolling tongue staring up at me. That adorable face silently watched me rub my forehead while her butt moved a mile a minute. “Yeah, yeah, hello to you too, mutt.”

Sadie was a pit-bull, golden retriever mix, and at only a few years old, she was as sweet as she was rambunctious. We’d already shoved her giant bed in-between the captain chairs of the truck cab, and I opened the door, letting her leap in.

“We all set?” I turned to see Layla locking the front door with a licorice stick hanging out of her mouth.