"Hey." He greets back, staring at me like I'm a ghost. "You...you're here. In town, I mean."

"I moved back." I fold my arms, nervously holding my elbows.

"Oh," He says, still dumbfounded, "how long have you been in town?"

"Three weeks," I answer, turning my attention to the truck he was driving outside, "I, uh, rented a place on Sloane."

"Cool."

I remember why I'm still standing here, despite wanting to evaporate, and reach into the pockets of my apron. "Do you need more time, or are you ready to order?"

He blinks, disoriented, and glances at the menu. "Uh, yeah, yeah. I'll get the, uh, the house omelet."

"Side of hashbrowns, or toast, or both?"

"Both."

I nod, writing it down while my eyes stay glued to him. "White, whole wheat, or sourdough?"

"Sourdough."

"Alright, comin' right up." I give him the scripted line and tread over to clip the order to the wheel for Louis. I tuck my hands in my apron and look at him from behind the counter. Besides having longer hair, the makings of a beard, and being biologically older than when I last saw him, Dwight doesn't seem like he's changed a bit. I look over to Louis in the kitchen. "I'm gonna take my ten, if that's alright."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead, hon."

I walk outside and go around to the side where I can smoke. When I got pregnant with Jolyon, I stopped smoking and didn't pick it back up until six months ago. I've tried to kick it again, but the only thing I can brag about is that it takes me three weeks to finish a pack. As I make my way to the designated smoking area, my eyes make contact with Dwight's as I pass the window and he watches me do so.

The stark morning has a breeze, but it's sort of warm out, so I don't mind. I light a cigarette and smoke slowly, fully intending to take the whole ten minutes of my break. After those ten, short minutes pass, I put it out and go back inside. Perfect timing too, because Louis works fast and rings the bell as soon as I walk in.

"Order up!"

I take D's omelet and side of toast in both hands, while balancing the hash browns on my forearm. "Here ya go."

"Thanks." He replies, as I set down the plates.

"Enjoy." I grin and then go back over to the counter to pour myself some coffee. I wipe down the counter that doesn't need to be wiped down, stealthily staring at him.

"Could I get some more coffee?" Dwight shyly asks me after a few minutes.

"Yeah, sure." I take the pot over to him.

"Thank you."

"You bet." I look towards my cup on the counter. "How's everything tasting?"

"Good, thanks."

I walk back to the counter and pick my coffee up and go over to his booth. "It's been awhile," I say, sliding into the seat across from him, "How have you been?"

"Uh, good, good," Dwight dumps a packet of sugar in his coffee, "How about you?"

"I'm doing alright," I bleakly smile, reaching for the little thing of milk I brought over, "Getting by."

"Good. So, you've moved back here, huh?"

I stir milk and sugar into my coffee. "Yeah...um, I fell on some hard times and needed a change. My folks have been begging me to move back for a while and so, I figured it'd be nice to be close to family."

"Yeah, I bet..." Dwight replies, clearing his throat, "I see them around from time to time and they're always as nice as ever."

"Yeah," I chuckle into my coffee, " well, they never change." I peer out the window at the rig parked out front. "So, you drive trucks?"

"I do," He nods, looking out as well, "I work for a brewery."

"Oh, where do I send my resumé?" I retort and he snickers, which makes me smile more confidently.

"I'm starting a new job in about a month or so." He takes a bite of toast.

"Where at?"

"I'm gonna be driving a truck still, but just for a fuel company," D explains, "It's riskier, but it pays more."

"I'd hope so," I put my crossed arms up on the table, "I thought you were gonna go into the Army?"

He nods his head. "Yeah, I did, but I didn't re-up after serving my four years."

"Oh, how come?"

D's thumb rubs against his ring finger, which I suddenly notice has a wedding ring. "Sherry didn't want me to."

My eyes move from his wedding ring to him. "Sherry? Sherry McKee?"

"Uh, yeah, we...we got married."

I take up my coffee and sip it. "Wow, that's...that's great," I smile at him, "How long have you two been married?"

"It'll be thirteen years in September."

I hold my smile. "Thirteen years in September, wow. I didn't even know that you dated."

"Yeah, we starting dating shortly after graduation."

"Well, congratulations," I point to his side of the table, "Do you want me to clear anything off the table for you?"

"No, I'm good, thanks," He claims, shaking his head," So, what about you? I thought you wanted to teach?"

"Yeah, I'm actually starting a new teaching job in two weeks."

"Really? At Camden High?"

"Oh, no. It's three towns out," I answer, "Southcastle High School."

"Ah," Dwight taps his finger on the table, "So, did you move here with your husband, or..."

"No, I'm not married," I snicker, briefly looking down into my cup, "I moved here with my kid."

"Kid?" D sounds somewhat taken back. "You've got a kid?"

"Yeah, a son; Jolyon. He turned three in February."

He nods for the fiftieth time. "That's great."

I glance over at the I Love Lucy clock on the wall. "So, did you just get back from a delivery, or something?"

"Yeah, I did."

"How come you're eating here, instead of at home? It's late."

Dwight sighs, taking a look at his wristwatch. "Yeah, well, I was hungry and I didn't want to wake Sherry; banging pots and pans around the kitchen, you know?"

"Sure." I nod, sitting back in my seat. "Would you like the check?"

"Yes, please. I should head home."

I get up from the booth and go retrieve his check for him. "Here."

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. I spy a little wallet sized photo that seems like it's of him and Sherry. He puts down a twenty-dollar bill.

"I'll be back with your change."

"No, keep the change," D stands up from the booth, "as a tip, I mean."

"Okay, thanks." Who am I to turn down a fourteen-dollar tip?

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Well, it was good seeing you again."

"Likewise." I smile, putting my hands in my apron.

"I guess I'll see ya around."

"Yeah, maybe."

Dwight smiles back at me. "Bye, Pippa."

"Bye."

Dwight leaves the diner and looks back over his shoulder at me as he walks over to the truck he came in. I don't clear the table until his truck disappears out of sight down the road.

...

"Mommy!" Jolyon runs up the porch steps.

"Hey, baby!" I scoop him up in my arms. "How was the sleepover?"

"We made snores." He smiles.

"You made snores?" I laugh, kissing his cheek. Snores are what Jolyon calls s'mores. "Did you miss me?"

"No," He giggles.

"No?" I smile at him, while waving at my dad. "Should I pack up your stuff and let Pop take you home to keep, then?" I poke his belly. "Huh?"

"No, I live with you!" Jolyon laughs.

I kiss his cheek again, before putting him down. "That's what I thought."

"Here." Dad hands me the little backpack I dropped Jolyon off with.

"Where's Mom?" I ask.

"Lunch with the girls."

"Oh," I nod, slinging Jolyon's backpack over my shoulder, "What are you up to for the rest of the day?"

"Nothin'," Dad claims with a grin, "I don't mean nothin' as in I don't have plans."

"You mean nothin' as in you're planning on doing nothin'." I finish his quip with a laugh.

"That's right," He chuckles, "See ya later, pipsqueak."

"Hey, wait a minute," I step down one porch step, "You know who I saw last night while I was working?"

"Dracula?"

I chuckle, shaking my head no. "Dwight Rollins."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah, did you know he was married?"

"Yeah, I had heard...but that was awhile ago," Dad scratches his scruff, "You didn't know?"

"How could I have known? I haven't really been back since I left."

Dad shrugs. "I don't know."

I squint a little, studying his expression. "Why did you think I knew?"

"Oh, I don't know, I figured your sister or mother told you."

"Well, they didn't."

He looks me over. "Well, I'll see ya later, honey."

"Bye, Dad."

I decided to take Jolyon with me to run errands, since the weather got a little windy overnight and the river would be too choppy to swim in. I have to go pick up some shit from the school I'll be teaching at and I figured I would go to this store in the same area for a new comforter.

I put in an audio book, so Jolyon will nap on the car ride over. As I drive, my mind wanders away from narrator and back to Dwight. Dwight and I have known each other since grade school. We didn't become friends until the second grade, after we had to be safety buddies on a field trip to the zoo two hours away and bonded over the nocturnal exhibit. We became sweethearts in the eighth grade when he asked me to the spring dance and then dated throughout high school. We broke up about a month before we graduated and after that, we never saw, or spoke to each other again.

It's not like we planned on estrangement, but it happened. Dwight was my first love and the breakup, or more specifically the circumstances that led to that, was devastating. And I mean what I say, so I'm not being fucking dramatic when I say devastating. Remember when I said that I knew the exact moment of when everything started to dull? Well, what caused our breakup thirteen years ago was the very moment the lights went out.

My life was perfect up until that moment. I was an honor student, captain of the cheer team, editor-in-chief of our school's newspaper, pitched for our softball team, and I even had a lead part in the school's musical. And Dwight, I had Dwight. He played baseball, so I never formally cheered at any of his games, but I was always in the stands, hollering, and he'd always do the same for me. I know a lot of people say that when you're young you don't really know what love is, you just have schoolyard crushes that you perceive to be more than what they actually are; but that wasn't what Dwight and I had.

We were in love and I don't fucking care how eye- rollingly unoriginal that sounds. We talked about life after school the way I suppose that most high school sweethearts do, but as we got older, the plans became more realistic and pragmatic and better than some white picket fence in the happily ever after pipedream. Then, out of nowhere, the candles were blown out and everything became more complicated and our relationship dissolved like sugar in coffee.

The high school looks like any other school in a small town. Plain and optimistic with "Home of the Vikings" on the electronic information board. It's empty, since school doesn't start for two more weeks, but the main office is open. The principal was supposed to give me a quick tour of the grounds, but apparently decided to go play golf instead. So, the secretary, Diane, gives Jolyon and I the tour.

She gives Jolyon a sucker and so he's pretty much silent through the whole tour, except to ask what sort of games are played in the gymnasium and if they serve pizza for lunch. Irrelevant for him, since he's three, but Diane finds it cute. She shows us to the classroom where I'll be teaching and claims that I can decorate it if I want to.

"Mommy, can we go play with the basketballs?" Jolyon asks as we walk down the halls.

"Honey, the basketballs are locked away in the equipment room." I brush a hand over his head.

"Can we go outside and play catch?"

"No, Jol, that's locked away, too."

"Someone likes sports," Diane laughs, "Does he and his father play a lot?"

I look down at Jolyon. "No, his dad's...not in the picture."

"Oops, sorry." She glances away, embarrassed.

"Mommy plays catch with me." Jolyon informs her.

"That sounds like so much fun." She smiles at him.

"I played softball in high school." I casually tell her. I was planning on playing in college, but only lasted half a season, before I got cut. It was my fault, I didn't put my all into it and skipped practices for no reason, other than I just didn't want to go.

"Oh, maybe you could coach our softball team," Diane suggests, "The gym teacher that usually coaches always makes the girls nervous."

"A real hard ass, huh?"

"Mommy, you said a swear word!"

"Sorry, baby," I apologize, while Diane giggles, "Too rough?"

Diane looks over her shoulder, as if this coach might be lurking around the fucking corner. "Well...yes. Yes, he is."

I snicker. "So, the girls want a coach that isn't going to yell at them, or something?"

She chuckles nervously. "The yelling's not the issue."

"Oh," I take Jolyon's hand when he reaches out for mine, "So what's the problem?"

"Uh...I think they get a little distracted by his looks."

I guffaw lightly, remembering those days. "I take it he can pull off gym shorts?"

Diane just smiles, uneasily. "I don't feel right about saying this, but...no, I'm not gonna say anything bad."

"Alright."

"It's just that he's..." She stops herself, "No, never mind. You two have a nice day. It was a pleasure to meet you." She shakes both mine and Jolyon's hand, which he gets a kick out of, and we leave.

"I'm hungry."

"Yeah? Let's get some lunch."

...

Jolyon and I stop at a pancake house that also serves lunch and we eat. I'm not too hungry, but I order a turkey club anyway. Jolyon sits on his knees, dipping every single bite into ketchup before consuming it. He's half distracted by the paper placemat that the waitress gave him with a little box of four crayons. He broke them all in half, because he holds them wrong and presses down too hard on the paper.

I briefly flicker through the packet of papers Diane gave me in a manila envelope. It's a bunch of curriculum shit that just expects me to teach the bare minimum, which I think is fucking malarkey. There's also some school rules, teacher-to-student procedural conduct, and an emergency contact form to fill out.

"Oooh, look at that one!" Jolyon sticks his ketchupy finger on the window, pointing to another dog that's strolled by with its owner.

I put all the paperwork back in the envelope. "Yeah, that's a cute one."

Jolyon cackles. "She looks like a hotdog."

"How do you know it's a girl dog?" I ask, mildly curious.

"Because it doesn't have a wiener."

The old waitress looks at him and then me, appalled. "Here's the check, whenever you're ready."

"Thanks." I smile, moderately embarrassed. I hear a husky, throaty laugh coming from three booths behind me and I can't fight a small smile as I get into my purse. The waitress returns shortly to pick up my debit card and to take our plates away.

"Would you like a box?" She asks, still unimpressed at my three year old's innocent observation of the wienerless wiener dog.

"Uh, no thank you."

"Mommy, do boy dogs have boobs?"

The crone huffs and stalks off with our plates. What like her kids never asked questions about dog anatomy? Meanwhile, another laugh from the same man three tables away makes me snicker through my nose. "Yes, but let's not talk about it here, okay?"

"Why come?"

"How come," I softly correct, "and because that's an at home question."

"Can they feed babies like girl dogs?"

"No, I don't think so," I hand him a napkin, "Wipe your face and hands, please."

The waitress gives me a rigid, Puritanical face and drops the receipt on the table. What, no mints? I leave her a fair tip, despite the bitchy judgment, because I hate lousy tippers and then help Jolyon off his seat.

"Have a lovely day." She calls over to us with a rude inflection in her tone.

I cover Jolyon's ears. "Go fuck yourself, you old witch."

The one man audience laughs at my remark, probably being the only one who heard it. We cross the parking lot to the car and I reach my hand down to get into my purse for the keys. Oh, shit...I left my purse in there.

"Hey!" A booming voice calls out and I turn around to see one tall, dark, and handsome stride my way with my orangey- brown leather purse on his shoulder and packet of school papers under his arm. "You fuckin' left these in the restaurant."

I take my purse and envelope from him. "Thanks."

"You, uh, teaching at the high school?" He asks, working his eyes up to mine with a dimpled grin. "The envelope has the school seal on it."

"Uh, yeah, I start two weeks from Monday." I answer, while buckling Jolyon into his car seat.

"Whatcha teachin'?"

I arch my brow at him, now giving him a look over. "English," I flatly respond, walking over to the driver's side, "Thanks again."

...

I offer to switch shifts with another waitress, because her daughter's got a fever, so I'm fucking back to the dreaded graveyard shift. I could've said no, but I felt bad since I can empathize with having a sick kid. It just sucks, because I promised Jolyon we'd go to the river before school starts in two days and I was suppose to take him today, but I might be too tired after getting off at six in the morning.

It's a usual night, empty, because almost everyone on this side of the goddamn world is fucking asleep. After my fourth cup of coffee in the last hour in a half, I go out to take my smoke break. Since there aren't any customers, I figured I could smoke on the bench right out front, so that I'm not alone in the dark on the side of an old diner. What a horrible place that would be to be murdered.

I look back through the window and see that it's three in the morning. We haven't had a customer at all, but we're not allowed to close down, because this is a twenty-four hour diner. A stray cat saunters in the parking lot with no fear of human presence, as it makes it's way to the nearby woods to hunt for mice. I want a cat. It'll solve the mice problem that I think I might be having.

A flatbed truck with a camper shell pulls into the lot and parks in one of the farther spots, despite the parking lot being utterly vacant. The driver gets out and comes around into view. I take a drag from my cigarette, tapping the ash off the end, as Dwight walks up.

"Hey." He holds his hand up in greeting.

I exhale smoke from my lips. "Hey, D."

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his own cigarette and lighter. "How've you been?"

"Fine," I cross my leg over the other, "Yourself?"

"Same." D moves his cigarette from his lips.

I itch my middle finger that's got mine between it. "That your car?"

"Yeah."

I nod thoughtfully, "So, that must mean that you didn't come from work."

Smoke exits through his nostrils. "Actually, I did. I left the rig at the yard, since the company owns it and because today was my last delivery for them."

"Oh, cool." I flick my cigarette on the ground. "Can I get you some coffee and a menu?"

He nods, taking another drag. "Yeah, please."

I go back into the diner, while he finishes smoking outside. I get a mug out and pour in some freshly brewed jet fuel. Dwight comes in and sits where he did nearly two weeks ago. I bring him his coffee and menu like I would any other customer. "Would you like to hear our specials?"

"Sure."

"Oh, well, that's too fucking bad, because we stop serving the specials at midnight, so you can only have what's on the menu."

D chuckles under his breath. "Then why'd you ask?"

"Because I'm suppose to," I smirk, "We do have some blueberry pie and ice cream left over, if you want some."

"Uh, yeah, alright."

"Can I getcha anything else?"

"Mm, maybe some eggs and toast. Over easy and sourdough."

"Comin' up." I stroll behind the counter and peer into the kitchen, where Louis is sleeping on a stool with his back against a wall. I ring the bell twice. "Eggs over easy and a side of sourdough toast!"

Louis blinks himself awake. "Over easy with a side of sourdough, comin' up."

I turn back towards Dwight. "Do you want the pie now, or after?"

"Now's good." He stirs his coffee.

I lift up the glass dome and take the pie off the cake stand. I fetch the vanilla ice cream from the freezer and then proceed to cut him a slice of pie. I sling a dollop of vanilla on top and bring it over with a fork.

"Thanks."

"No problem." I grin and just as I do so, I hear my phone ring in my purse from under the counter. That's the one good thing about the graveyard shift; it's just two workers and neither of us are going to snitch on each other if we take a longer break, or answer calls. I fish out my phone and see that it's my mom. "Hello?"

"Pippa?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, Mom, it's me. What's the matter?"

"Are you busy?"

"It's three- twenty in the morning, so yeah, we're slammed."

She groans tiredly. "Don't be such a snot."

"What'd you call for?" I lean on the hand I've got on the counter.

"Well, Jolyon woke up crying, saying he had a bad dream and wanted you," Mom explains, "So, I told him that you were at work, but I'd try to call you."

"Alright, put him on." I decide to cut myself a slice of pie. I hear my mom gently talking to my boy, while Dwight casually looks over at me.

"Mommy?"

"Hi, baby," I perk my voice up, "Did ya have a bad dream?"

"Yeah," He sniffs over the phone, "Can you come get me?"

I take a deep, sighing breath. "Sorry, baby, I've got to work for a little bit longer, but how about I come straight to Gran and Pop's as soon as I'm done?"

"Okay."

"Okay? Go back to sleep for Gran and when you wake up, I'll be there."

"You pinky swear?"

"I pinky swear," I promise, holding up my pinky, even though he can't see.

"What if the bad dream gets me again?"

"Just say what we always say before bed," I scoop some ice cream onto my plate of pie, "Good dreams in, bad dreams out, good dreams in, bad dreams out."

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Bye, Mama."

"Bye, baby. Love you."

"Love you, too." He hangs up the phone without giving it back to my mom. I sigh, putting my phone back into my purse.

Louis taps the bell. "Order up."

I take D his eggs and toast, then put away the ice cream and toss the empty pie pan in the sink to soak. "Was that your son?"

I glance back at Dwight. "Yeah, he's spending the night at my parent's and had a bad dream."

"How old did you say he was?"

"He's three," I caravan my pie and coffee over to his booth, sitting down, "technically, three and a half."

Dwight nods at his eggs. "You're gonna think this is rude, but I forgot what you said his name was."

"Jolyon," I say, cutting a piece of pie with my fork.

"Right, sorry."

I shrug, sticking the bite in my mouth. It's so good; my eyes roll back a little. "Don't be. People forget it, or get it wrong all the time. Sometimes I think I should've just named him Julian."

He grins and we're silent for a little while as we eat.

I take another bite of this orgasmic pie and sip some coffee. "I forgot to ask you the last time, if you and Sherry had any kids."

Dwight's eyes flicker to me and then back at his eggs. "Uh, no," He shakes his head, "No, kids."

"Oh," I push some melting ice cream around with my fork, "why not? You know what? Don't answer that; it's none of my business."

"No, it's okay," He assures me, nonchalantly, "We want kids, but Sherry wants to wait for the right time."

"When's that?" I close my eyes and shake my head. "You don't have to answer that."

D chuckles, somewhat timidly. "It's cool. Um...I don't know, when she's ready, I guess."

I nod, understandably. "So, what does she do?"

"She works at the bank as a teller."

"Oh, nice. Your mom still work there?"

"Yeah, she got Sherry the job."

"How is Caroline?"

"Same old, same old."

"That's good," I always loved Dwight's mom and grandpa, " How about your grandpa? What's he been up to?"

Dwight's glance lowers down to the table. "He, uh, died."

I'm sullened by this news. "Oh, no. What? I'm so sorry to hear that. I...I didn't know."

"Well, how could you have?"

"When did it happen?"

D scratches his eyebrow. "About three years ago. He died of pneumonia. February's one cold fuckin' month."

"Yeah," I murmur, "That sucks. He was such a nice man." I rest my cheek on my fist in a sad pout.

He gazes at me and the corners of his mouth tip upward. "You haven't changed all that much."

"Really? 'Cause I'm still packing twelve pounds of baby weight."

Dwight smiles, humored. "You look good."

I glance down at my plate. "Well, I moisturize."

He shifts in his seat to get out his wallet. "Thanks for the pie."

"It's my job."

D puts a twenty on the table. "Keep the change."

I get to my parent's house around six- twenty and from there I go into my old bedroom where Jolyon is. I remove my uniform and shoes, throw on an old t-shirt, and then climb into bed to get a few hours of shuteye.

...

"When Mommy?" Jolyon asks in the backseat.

"We just have to go to one place and then we'll go straight to the river, I promise." I tell him as I accidentally run a red light. "Shit."

I got a call from this store about a comforter set I ordered the other day when Jolyon and I went to go pick up my school packet. Jolyon's wearing his swim shorts and trying to put his water wings on, while sitting in his car seat.

We get into the shopping square parking lot and I rove around to find a parking space. As I pull into a spot, a car horn honks angrily. I look over my shoulder to see what the fucking fuss is about, but the car speeds around out of sight. Jolyon and I walk hand in hand to the shops and I entertain his whims about what we're going to do when we get to the river.

"Hey!" A thunderous voice yells behind us. I turn around and am a little shocked to see that it's the same man who brought me out my purse from the pancake house, like two weeks ago. "Do you fucking know what a fucking turn signal means?"

"Excuse me?"

The guy points his thumb over his shoulder. "That fucking parking spot you just fucking pulled into? I had my fucking turn signal on for it and you whipped the fuck into it anyway!"

I stare at him in astonishment and brewing anger, before peeking over to where I parked.

"Mommy, he said swear words." Jolyon whispers.

"Look, man, I didn't know, alright?" I respond with a composed tongue. "I'm sorry, but how about you watch your mouth in front my son?"

"Oh, right," He chuckles coolly, "Because you set such a good fucking example." He stalks off and I flip him the bird as he does, which only makes him laugh and give it right back to me as he continues to go.

"Dick." I say low enough to not catch any grief from Jolyon.

As promised, we get in and out and off to the river we go. Well, that was the plan anyway...

About twenty miles down the road, I realize that one of my tires is low. I pull off to the side of the road and get out of the car and...behold! The back fucking tire on the driver's side has got some kind of metal thing stuck in it.

"Fucking really?" I curse, going to the trunk where I have a spare.

"Mommy!"

I go over and open the door. "Mommy's got to change the tire real quick and then we'll go."

"Can I eat my Cheetos?" Jolyon asks.

"Yeah, sure." I stopped at this little deli that was in the shopping square and got some lunch for when we're at the river, including a little bag of Cheetos. I pull open the bag and give them to him to eat in his car seat.

Just about the time I get my tire out of the trunk, a car pulls up behind me. I glance over and scowl. Fucking really?

"Need some help?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." I roll the tire over to the side.

"Do you have a fuckin' jack?" The asshole that just went off on me in the parking lot asks.

I stand up and put my hand on my hip. "I've got a tire iron."

He grins and breathes in a throaty laugh. "Damn, honey, I'm just tryin' to fuckin' be nice here."

"Did you follow me?" I try not to sound paranoid, but you never know who's going to hold a grudge over a stolen parking space.

"Did I-? No, I'm going home," He scoffs, pointing straight ahead, "I live down the fucking road from here."

I glance down the road. "Well, be on your way, then. I don't need help."

"So, you do have a jack?"

My eyes look to the trunk. "No, but, I-"

"Then how the fuck are you gonna change that damn tire?"

I mull over my very limited options, before raising a suspicious brow to him. "You have one?"

"I do," He smiles, putting his hands in his pockets with a satisfied air, "Shall I get it for you, or are you gonna be all fuckin' prideful, standing there in your boner- raising shorts?"

I widen my eyes at him. "Move on."

The guy leans back as he laughs, holding a hand to his chest. "Sorry, that last part just sort of fuckin' slipped out."

I twist my mouth to my side, unpleased. "Have a nice day."

He strolls over to the trunk of his car. "Alright, alright, look, I'm sorry. Let me just get the jack."

"Are you hard of hearing?" I snap at him. "I said, move the fuck on, asshole!"

"Mom!" Jolyon points a warning, Cheeto coated finger at me from the back seat.

"Yeah, Mom," The man smirks, walking over with the jack, "How about you watch your mouth in front of your son?" He winks, before getting down on the ground to change my tire.

"Look, just put the jack under and I'll do the rest." I lean my arm on the open door.

"Nah, I've got it."

I scoff. "Boy, you sure are a one- eighty from a half hour ago."

He snickers, jacking up the tire. "Is that so?"

"One minute you're biting my head off in a parking lot and the next, you're changing my tire."

"Did you forget that I also brought you your purse awhile back?"

"Yeah and I'm missing forty bucks." I retort dryly. He stops mid-action and tilts his head up at me to see if I'm serious. "Relax, dude, I'm joking."

The man huffs with a grin on his face. "Good one, bitch."

"I got plenty more, asshole."

"Well, I may be an asshole, but I'm not that big of an asshole to pass a lady and her kid on the side of the road."

"I don't know," I peek into see Jolyon still eating his Cheetos, "You seem like that kind of asshole to me."

The guy chuckles, looking up at me with a charming smirk. "Jesus, I change your tire and you bust my balls?"

I shrug, casually. "I call 'em as I see 'em."

"Damn," He replies, while pulling the flat tire off, "Remind me not to help a gal just because she's got a nice pair of legs."

"Aha, so you aren't some noble boy scout here to serve the community."

"Doesn't saving damsels in distress count as serving my fucking community?"

I shake my head, chidingly. "Nope, not when you only save the damsels with nice legs."

The man laughs to himself as he twirls the tire iron. "I don't just save the damsels with nice legs."

"I'll never know that." I claim, which makes him laugh more.

"I guess you fucking won't," Finally, he stands up, wiping some sweat from his brow, "but you should know, that I abso-fucking-lutely would help damsels that didn't have nice legs."

"Hm."

"I'd save a damsel with a nice ass, or a good set of titties, too." He adds with a chuckle.

I roll my eyes in disgust. "How altruistic."

"I know." He says with a deep husk in his tone.

I furrow my eyebrows at him and put my hand out for the tire iron. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome."

"Hi." Jolyon rasps from his car seat.

The man bends forward until he sees my son and smiles. "Hey, kid," He waves.

I glance him over as he straightens out and gives me his leftover smile. I take the iron to the trunk. "I guess I have to take the flat with me, right?"

"Not unless you want to fuckin' pay a littering fine," The guy replies, "But it's just you and me on this road right now, so I won't fuckin' tell, if you won't."

"...You aren't a cop, are you?" I study his disposition with some skepticism, "You won't take down my plate number and send me a fine in the mail?"

He guffaws at my implications. "Honey, I wouldn't fucking do that, even if I was a fucking cop. Which I'm not, so don't insult me."

I look down at the flat tire, as I shut my trunk door down without loading it. "I think I parked on a nail, or something."

"No shit? Well, then thanks for stealing my spot."

I snicker a little. "Thanks, again," I say, closing the back door and opening my door to get into the car.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

I turn my head in his direction. "Yeah?"

"Can I get your name?"

"I don't know, can you?"

He smolders a toothy grin. "May I get your name? I did just fuckin' change your tire for you."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Dude, I don't owe you my name, because you didn't want to leave my nice legs stranded on the roadside. So, no, you may not have my name, but you can have a nice day."

"Catch ya later, then." He calls back.

I huff, starting my car and driving off. "Doubt it."

"The river now?"

My eyes look at Jolyon through the rearview mirror. "Yes, sir."

He kicks his legs in excitement. "Yay!"

"Yay!" I repeat with a subdued glee, looking back at the man closing his trunk and walking back to get into his car.