Page 125 of Truck Me

The text message from my mom came through a little after six o’clock this evening. All I saw was we got the results scrolling across my screen before I darkened my phone and shoved it under the cushion. I haven’t been able to click on the message to read the rest of it since.

Instead, I’m curled into a ball on Sierra’s couch, trying to make myself as small as possible.

After we submitted the samples at the family services office, I needed to get away. Mrs. Engle understood and gave me a week off. Since Dad is in a facility, Mom doesn’t need much help from me. She said she could handle Rayne on her own for a week.

So I called Sierra, arranged to stay with her for a few days, and got in my car and drove the six and half hours to Chicago.

That was three days ago. I’ve hardly eaten or showered or left this spot on her couch in all that time.

I’m a mess.

“Alright, babe. Enough.” Sierra shuts her door behind her with a little too much force. “You don’t look like you’ve moved since I left for work.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” I mumble.

“Get up.” She kicks the side of the couch. I look over my shoulder and glare at her. She’s standing over me with her hands on hips, giving me her best mom scowl.

“I don’t want to.”

“Tough shit. You’re stinking up this place. Go take a shower while I make you something to eat. When’s the last time you ate?”

I shrug.

She lets out a heavy sigh.

“Let’s go, babe. Now!” She yanks the cover off me and tugs at my hand. She’s relentless in her efforts to pull me to my feet and push me toward the bathroom. I fall against the bathroom wall and slide to a seated position. She turns on the hot water.

“This will be warm in a minute. I’ll go grab you some clean clothes.”

I nod. I want to fight her, but there’s no use. Sierra can be relentless when she wants something, and in this case, she’s not wrong to want me to shower. Even I can smell my own filth.

Twenty minutes later, I’m freshly showered and in a pair of my favorite comfy pajamas. Mentally, I’m still a mess, but I do feel better now that I’ve cleaned up.

Sierra is in the kitchen making me a grilled cheese sandwich. I glance around at the array of cheeses she has out, and my eyes widen. “Is that brie?”

She nods. “And prosciutto.”

A deep moan escapes me. “Please tell me you also have some of the peach preserves I love so much?”

She chuckles. “You know I do. It’ll be ready in a minute. In the meantime, talk to me. What are you thinking right now?”

I drop my head into my hands and run my fingers through my wet hair. “That I was banging the same man that may have knocked up my sister before she died giving birth to that child. How messed up is that?”

“I’ll admit that’s a little weird, but there’s nothing wrong with it. Stuff like that happens all the time.”

“Not to me!” I raise my voice.

“This isn’t the end of the world, Char. A few months ago, you experienced a very public rejection and breakup that changed your entire life. That’s far worse than falling in love with a hot lumberjack of a man who loves you back.”

“I don’t love him.” I mumble, and the lie tastes sour coming from my lips.

“Yes, you do.”

Choosing to ignore her, I change the subject to what really upset me just before she got him. “I got a text from Mom.”

Her hand freezes just as she was about to flip the grilled cheese sandwich in the skillet. “What does it say?”

“That the results arrived. That’s all I saw before I hid my phone. I can’t bring myself to read the rest of it.