Page 44 of Truck Me

Deep down, I want it to be me. I want to be her father even though I doubt my abilities to be a good one. With the shitty example of a father I have, chances are high I’d suck at it just as much as my dad.

I don’t know why I’m allowing myself to ponder this again. Rayne is better off without me. Besides, I’ve waited too long to say anything. At this point I’d hurt everyone involved. And now that I’ve fucked Charlotte, I’ve complicated matters even more.

Definitely not a good man.

I turn away from the trail and continue my walk to my house. Bullet is bouncing around my feet, letting me know she wants to play. I pull a tennis ball from my pocket and toss it. Bullet takes off down the hill after it, catches it, brings it back, and drops it at my feet. We do this a few times before I reach my front door.

“Come on, girl.” I call out for her. “Let’s eat dinner.”

She immediately runs toward me and crowds past my feet to get inside. She stops by the small pantry door where I keep her food and whines.

“I know. I know.” I grumble. “We stayed in the garage too long, didn’t we?”

Once she’s taken care of, I open the refrigerator and frown. The leftovers are gone. I’d finished the last of the enchiladas Charlotte brought me last night. The empty pan is sitting on the counter, taunting me.

I grab a beer, pop the top, and take a long pull before I look in the pantry for something to make. All I have are cans of soup, and after the enchiladas, that sounds about as tempting as cardboard.

Bullet’s ears perk up and she rushes to the door we just came through.

“What is it?” The question comes out of me so rough and full of frustration, my dog sinks back and sits like she’s in trouble. Before I can comfort her, there’s a knock on my door.

My mind instantly jumps to Charlotte, and my cock twitches.

I scrub my hands over my face and groan. “Fuck, this is a problem.”

I’ve got to get that woman out of my mind. If she ever finds out my truths, she’ll hate me. My wounds and hidden scars are too deep and too painful. They’ve already destroyed my life. I can’t let them destroy anyone else’s life either.

There’s a second knock. This one is louder than the first. “Garret! I know you’re in there. I saw you walk in.”

My shoulders relax and my dick wilts at the sound of Liam’s voice. I’m both relieved and disappointed it’s not Charlotte.

My boots pound against the hardwood floor as I make my way across the small room, and the sound rings in my ears. My house is always so silent, and my heavy steps annoy me.

My brother at my door annoys me. I annoy myself.

I’m disappointed in the decisions I’ve made, and the secrets I’ve kept. Why can’t everyone just leave me the fuck alone and let me wallow in my self-pity in my tiny house with no one but my dog to keep me company?

I open the door with every intention of telling Liam to fuck off, but he doesn’t give me a chance to speak before he’s pushing past me.

“Here.” He shoves a container at me. “This is for you. Grams made it up and asked me to bring it to you. She’s worried you’re eating too much processed food. Too much salt intake or some shit like that.”

My brows furrow while my heart does a little leap, knowing I’m eating a home-cooked meal tonight. I barge past Liam and straight for the flatware drawer. I don’t even bother warming it up. I grab a fork and dig in—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn. It’s orders of magnitude better than canned fucking soup.

Liam chuckles, then his eyes fall on the cleaned, empty pan that Charlotte brought over with enchiladas in it. He nods toward it with a knowing grin on his face. “Someone else bringing you food too?”

I cut him a glare as I take a bite of chicken. I swallow a groan. Grams makes the best fried chicken.

“Yeah,” I say with a mouth full of food. “What’s it to you?”

“Wouldn’t happen to be Charlotte, would it?”

My glare hardens, and my hands freeze midway to my mouth. “Why would you ask that?”

He shrugs and smirks. I hate it when my brothers fucking smirk. “Rayne was at the house the other day telling us how much Charlotte loves to cook and bake. Told Grams Charlotte can bake as good as she can, and that she’s been bringing you food. Grams took that as a challenge.” He points to the leftovers in my hands. “Hence her insistence that I bring you food.”

I scowl. “I don’t understand. What does Charlotte bringing me food have to do with Grams?”

Liam’s smile grows. I growl as I realize my mistake. I just admitted to Charlotte bringing me food. Now, my entire family is going to think there’s something more going on between us. That can’t happen. It was just one night. A fucking great night, but one I can’t repeat.