Page 122 of Truck Up
We wait for Hadley, the silence between us thick with unspoken anxieties. As soon as she steps out of her car, she rushes towards me, engulfing me in a warm, comforting hug. “Are you okay? Whatever it is, we’re here for you. We’ll figure this out together.”
A genuine smile finally breaks through the tension. “I know,” I say, squeezing her back tightly. “Now let go, before my family comes outside and we get stuck in the driveway forever. I need to sit down.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stand tall, to project an image of strength I’m far from feeling. It feels like I’m walking on broken glass, every movement a painful reminder of the impending conversation.
Suddenly, a wave of longing washes over me. I wish Christian was here. He knows this pain, this fear, better than anyone. He’s been my rock through the darkest of times, his support an unwavering anchor. But I need to face this alone. It’s best if my family hears it from me first.
The front door opens before we reach the porch steps. Linden is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “Finally going to tell us what’s going on?”
The tone in his voice causes me to cringe. My brother means well, but he can be a little harsh in his delivery. It makes me want to run back to the car and forget this whole thing.
“Don’t be an ass.” Nova scolds him. “It wasn’t easy for her to come over here.”
Linden has the decency to look remorseful, and it puts me a little more at ease. He shocks me even more when he says, “Sorry, I’m just worried.”
I nod and take a step past him, but he stops me.
“I went to see your boyfriend,” he says.
Shocked again, I look up and meet his worried gaze. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Asked him about what happened. He refused to talk to me. Said I had to ask you.”
“Well, get inside and I’ll tell you what you need to know,” I say. My insides feel like they’re trying to fight their way to the outside. My stomach is a wreck, and my heart won’t stop pounding like an overzealous hammer.
The sight of my family, all gathered in the living room, waiting for me, hits me like a physical blow. My vision swims, the edges blurring into an indistinct haze. My knees buckle, the strength draining from my limbs. I sink to the floor, the world tilting precariously on its axis.
“Easy now.” Linden’s arms wrap around me, and he catches me before I hit the ground.
Panic surges through me, a tidal wave of fear threatening to drown me. My mother’s cries pierce the air, her voice raw with worry. Several feet scramble towards me, their figures blurred by the panic-induced haze. Linden’s strong arms wrap around me, lifting me effortlessly, carrying me to the couch.
I’m aware of the commotion around me, the concerned voices, the frantic touch of hands on my body, but I can’t speak. My mouth is frozen, my throat constricted. I want to tell them I’m okay, to reassure them, but no words escape my lips.
“Is it the baby?” I hear my mom ask. She sounds genuinely worried. I shake my head, hoping she can see the motion.
“It has something to do with these,” Nova says as she reaches for my arm and shoves up the sleeve of my sweater. A collective gasp fills the room.
“It’s … it’s fine.” I manage. I struggle to sit up. My head is dizzy, and my eyes still won’t focus.
“Don’t,” Aaron says. “Rest a minute before you get up.”
I shake my head. “I said I’m fine.”
I blink several times until the room comes into focus. The first pair of eyes I meet are those of my dad. He’s filled with rage, and I’m acutely aware of my exposed bruises. I quickly pull my sleeve back down and cover the evidence of Badger’s attack.
“Christian Mutter is a dead man,” Dad says with so much anger and truth behind each word. He means it. If I don’t convince him this wasn’t Christian’s doing, things are going to get a lot worse.
“Christian didn’t do this,” Linden says. Every pair of eyes in the room snaps to him in surprise. Even mine.
“What are you talking about?” Dad asks.
“I spoke to Christian the day after the poker game. He didn’t do this.”
“And you believed him?” Dad yells. “He’s a Mutter. They’re liars.”
“Trust me, Dad.” The sober expression on Linden’s face causes all the fight in Dad to diminish. “I’m uncertain who did this to her, but I know it wasn’t Christian. He’s protecting her.”
My eyes lock with Linden’s, a silent conversation passing between us. He knows. Maybe not the specifics, the ugly, messy details, but he sees it—the truth. That alone is almost enough to make me crumble. He’s questioning everything, every assumption he’s ever made about his best friend.