Two weeks later…

My hands were shaking as the screen door swung shut behind me. "Come on," Elsa said hurriedly, "come here." She was already getting into the truck, the new red one Pop had bought the other day. I heard her turn the key and the engine roared to life. It was surprising that I could hear that, considering how loudly my pulse was pounding in my ears. "Come on, sweetie, let's go," she called out the passenger window. I trudged around the hood and hopped into the cab, slamming the door closed as hard as I could. Momma's car was already speeding off down the driveway as I threw the stick into reverse and started my three-point turn.

She's gonna be safe, I told myself, she'll find somewhere to stay the night. Tonight was the final straw. It's the last time Pop's going to lay a hand on Momma so long as I live. I'd given her all the money in my pocket to find herself a place to stay, and she'd gotten right out of there. I don't want to hear she'd only been staying for my sake…

As I twisted the wheel into its final place, I heard a shout from the porch behind us. "Get the fuck off my property, you ungrateful son of a bitch!" Anything else he said was drowned out by the roar of the engine as I slammed the gas pedal to the floor and peeled out of the driveway, but that shout had cut deeper into the wound that had opened just a little under twenty minutes ago.

Elsa and I had just come home from dinner, and Pop was drunk. Momma had met us at the door with an icepack on her face, and I lost it. "Sure as hell, she took a couple," he'd said, "did you see what you did to her?" What I did to her? What I did to her? Because I don't want your useless farm, Momma gets a black eye? Is that how it works? Like hell that's how it works!

I'd hit him back, throwing him down through the kitchen table. He'd hopped right back up and swung at me, but he was old and sloshed; I'd sent him reeling into the sink. If the girls hadn't gotten in my way, I was ready to keep on fighting. Every night I'd hid in my room while Momma's pleas rang through the house were eating at my conscience now as I remembered standing over the grunting old man, fueling the raging inferno inside and causing my knuckles to whiten on the steering wheel. I'd always been afraid of him; even if I had managed to fool myself into thinking everything was fine, I would hear Momma shout and remember that I was terrified of him. But no more, he was going to be alone. And for the better, too.

And the things he'd said about Elsa. "That whiny bitch hangs offa you like a natty dangle berry, calling you at all hours to whine about problems I could sort out before breakfast. The fact that you believed whatever lie she's been telling you about making a fortune in the big, wide world is proof that she's just a dirty parasite that you were stupid enough to let swim up your dick and fill your head with all kinds of bullshit." How fucking dare he. It's like because I treat her like a human being and not a weighted bag, he thinks I'm not a real man. The world doesn't work that way any more; another reason why I needed to get out of this backwards podunk and make something of myself.

Elsa had immediately withdrawn to the corner of the kitchen when I snapped, arms crossed around her midsection, but she had still called out to me to calm down. Momma had begged me not to hurt him, which broke my heart. She had even pushed me away with the ice pack still in her hand. While Pop was writhing on the floor, falling over his own boozed limbs trying to stand up again, I had given Momma money for a hotel. She said she'd only take it if I walked her to her car, so I did it. At least she was away from him, safe. He had no way left to get into town besides the tractor, and that thing was never going to run again. Even a John Deer can only handle so much rust. Besides, I was hoping Momma would skip town and head straight to the city, where there would be an even lesser chance of him finding her. Heck, she should just pass the city and head straight on to the Pacific Ocean for good measure. So long as she was gone, she would be safe.

"Baby? Slow down a bit, please." I gasped, suddenly aware that I was driving. My eyes instinctively leaped to the dash, and I saw that I was pushing seventy. I checked all my mirrors quickly and eased on to the brake, watching the needle drop—sixty-five…sixty…fifty…thirty-five. I took a deep breath and settled back into my seat as the truck rumbled along at a more reasonable pace. I stole a quick glance to the passenger's seat, where Elsa's white-blonde hair was glowing in the moonlight that shone through her window.

"Sorry," I said shortly, "I wasn't paying attention." The road looked familiar; it was about twenty minutes to town from here, and another twenty to Elsa's godparents' house on the other side of town. Aarondale was probably as big as a "small town" could get. There were so many farms and acres it was like everyone was connected by spiderwebs of dirt roads that could very well be longer than Interstates. I have no idea what the people who settled this place were thinking, putting everything so far apart; the firemen had to be little more than racing drivers in order to be any sort of help. Lord knows they weren't fast enough for Tay.

Elsa let out the smallest of sighs. "I figured," she mumbled, shifting in her seat. "That was…intense."

I chuckled dryly. "Say that again, why don't you." There was silence for a long time after that; I think the biting sarcasm in my response was a signal that I didn't want to think more about what had just happened. And I didn't. I wanted to leave all that behind me and forget it ever happened. I didn't want to have to remember Aarondale or Pop or his worthless farm any more.

Town came and went, all the dark storefronts and dim street lamps reminding me that Aarondale was a dump. Serves me right for thinking I could forget about this place. It's funny how the world works like that; wishing for one thing will always give you the opposite. Not even two minutes after thinking how nice it would be to get away, the truck rolled through town as if the world was saying, "Tough luck, idiot. This is where you are, and good luck trying to shake it."

I could feel that Elsa was staring a hole in the side of my head, but I didn't look over at her. I pulled into her driveway, just like I'd done a few hundred times before, and flicked off the headlights to coast slowly up to the house. Her godparents were early risers, which meant nine o'clock was pushing the front end of their self-imposed curfew. I'd done this crawl so many times it was like breathing to me now; headlights off, stick up to neutral, kill the engine, and cover the brake. I counted the seconds as I watched the speedometer drop down and down past ten, then I pressed the brake lightly and watched it plummet to five, then two, and finally zero as the truck eased into a stop not three feet from the garage. Just like every other time before, the passenger door lined up perfectly with the front steps, and I hadn't made a peep.

I put the gear into park and turned the key all the way off. My arms dropped heavily onto the seat on either side of me, and I let my head flop back onto the headrest. I waited for the door to open, but I never heard the click of the latch. I peered over at Elsa, who was staring blankly at the glovebox. She hadn't moved an inch since the last time one of us had spoken, aside from spinning her ring around her finger with her thumb. It was a beautiful ring, she'd been saying over and over. She'd been so happy to put it on. It had belonged to Pop's great-grandmother, who had given it to her son, whose wife had given it to Pop, and Momma had given it to me. It had three small diamonds set in a line, cut into squares and polished to a crystal clear sheen. It was modest, but it was more than enough for us.

"What?" I asked. Her head snapped up and towards the window before turning back to me.

"Oh," she said quietly, "sorry, I—"

"Wasn't paying attention," I finished her sentence. "It's fine," I continued, "I just thought you'd want to go inside and get some sleep."

Elsa looked down at the floor. "Yea," she said, biting her lower lip, "yea I do."

I gestured towards her house. "Well, we're here," I muttered, "feel free."

She still didn't move. She looked me up and down, hiding her hands deep under her arms.

"What is it? What are you waiting for?"

"I just…" She let her words trail off slowly, wriggling in her seat. "I want to know that you're okay."

I turned to face her, putting my arm on the steering wheel. "I'm fine, Elsa," I said, "I can handle it. All right?"

She took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Because I don't have to go yet, if you don't want me to."

"I'm fine, I can handle it, okay? If you're tired, go on inside."

"If there's anything at all, you know you can talk to me."

"I know, it's fine. Please, if you want to go, don't let me stop you."

"You're sure? Sweetie, I'm serious—"

"Dammit, woman!" I shouted, pounding the steering wheel as hard as I could. "If I say I'm fine, I'm fine! Just let me be! What could you know about having your family fall apart like this?"

Her face fell instantaneously, and immediately I felt mine do the same. I turned and grabbed my face, clawing at my own eyes and gritting my teeth. "Elsa," I said.

"No," heard her say softly, "it's okay, I know you didn't—"

"It's not okay!" I ripped my hands away from my face and slammed them into the dashboard, staring directly into her eyes as intensely as I could. "Don't you ever say that's 'okay,' you hear me?" She looked completely closed off, and I felt my heart break. I took a deep breath. "It's never okay. I'll never let myself be like him."

We stared at each other for a minute or two before she turned away and pulled open the door handle. She dropped out of the cab and closed the door behind her. Her eyes barely reached the bottom of the window. She tapped gently on the glass, and I turned the key a click to roll the window down. "What're you going to do?"

I knew she was talking about my plan for the night. I shook my head. "Stay in the truck," I said, "head out into the sticks somewhere and lay down in the flatbed, I guess."

She nodded. "Okay," she said, backing away from the cab slowly. "I'll call you in the morning." She started up the front steps slowly.

"Elsa?" She paused, looking back over her shoulder. I thumped the passenger seat softly with my fist. "I'm…I'm so sorry. I know that you—"

"I'll call you in the morning," she interjected, "okay?"

I sighed heavily. "Okay." I turned the engine over and reversed the gear, twisting back over the seat to make sure I didn't back over anything. I reached the end of the driveway, and I turned back around to look at the front door. It was closed, and Elsa was gone. I flicked on the headlights and backed into my lane before shifting into drive and setting off away from town.

The shifter felt like it weighed a ton.

I just drove for a while, getting fed up with the radio almost instantly. I wasn't in the mood for Keith Urban at the moment, especially not when he was singing about being together with someone. I punched the power off and drove in silence, listening to the cylinders churn and the tires roll along the broken pavement of the roadway. The quiet was nice, but it left too many opportunities for me to replay that moment in Elsa's driveway again in my mind and pile more and more guilt onto my soul.

Then, my pocket started to buzz. I debated what I should do; it could be Pop calling to chew me out again, or it could be Momma calling to tell me she didn't have enough money to stay anywhere. I didn't want to answer it either way. I just wanted to get away from all this. I'd get a message from whoever it was, so I could just listen to that. I wasn't in the mood to talk any more. The ring stopped, and I paused to wait for the voicemail notification. I felt my pocket buzz once more, and I felt satisfied in my small victory.

But then it buzzed again. And then again. It was still ringing. I slowed down a bit and fumbled around to retrieve the phone from my pocket. Why didn't they just leave a message? Once I checked the screen, though, my thumb couldn't have moved any faster to answer the call.

"Is everything okay?" I braked heavily, making sure nothing could distract me from this call.

The line was quiet for a second. "How far away are you?"

"Twenty minutes. What's wrong?"

More quiet. "I…We have a futon you can use…you know, if you want."

I put the truck in park. My mouth was dry. "You're…you're sure?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay with your godparents?"

"You woke them up with the truck, and they asked why I was home so early. I had to tell them."

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Elsa; I really am, from the bottom of my heart."

"You said twenty minutes?"

"Yes."

A pause. "I need you here, please."

I threw the truck into reverse at lightning speed. "I'll do it in ten."

"Make it five."

I smiled. "I love you," I said, finishing the second point of my turn, "I'll be there in two."

"I love you too, baby," Elsa said. "Drive safe, please."

"Yep, yep." She hung up first, and I tossed my phone into the passenger seat so I could crank the wheel back into position and floor the gas back towards her house. Anything I had been feeling about home was gone from my mind in that moment. Home had a new meaning for me now. Home had nothing to do with Pop any more, it had nothing to do with Aarondale. Home wasn't about being in a suped-up, shiny, red, new truck if she wasn't to my right.

Home meant Elsa now. Home meant being with my girlfr—no, not girlfriend any more.

Home meant being with my wife.