Surviving Love - K.F. Breene Page 0,1
was leaving behind.
Sara’s head bent a little lower over the picnic table. She just hadn’t seen it coming.
She took a deep breath and straightened up. There was no use crying about it now. What’s done was done. Time to move on.
Wiping her face, she heaved herself off the bench and slipped the reminder of failed promises into her jeans pocket. Tears wouldn’t bring him back. And even if they would, she didn’t want him anymore, anyway. She had someone to find within herself somewhere, and it would start today.
As the large airport shuttle rolled to a stop, she stepped forward, a bus ticket in her hand, a plane ticket in her purse, and her life just beginning.
* * *
A few hours later, Sara was walking out of baggage claim with her duffel bag in her hand, a smile on her face, and her heart on her sleeve. She’d start her new life in her childhood dream location—Montana. She’d always wanted to set up a cute house with a couple of horses and a ton of land. She had no idea how she’d support herself long term, but the word practical was for people whose “happily ever after” hadn’t gone up in flames. Chasing dreams was now the top priority, and she couldn’t wait to get started.
“You Sara?”
A man stood off to the side of the sleepy airport terminal. He held a half-sheet of paper with her name written in a spidery scrawl. His crumpled tweed hat sat lopsided on his graying head. Old blue jeans matched his dirt-stained fingers, complemented by worn work boots.
A thrill accosted her as she stepped over, nervousness mingling with hope as she beamed in greeting. “Yup! Yes I am. Are you from the ranch?”
He jerked his head to the right as he reached for her duffel.
“Oh, it’s okay. I got it.”
He stared at her, his hand hovering in the air.
“Oh… okay.” Gingerly, she gave him the crisp blue duffel bag.
Without a word, he turned and started walking toward the exit.
“Thanks for coming for me,” Sara chirped as she hastened to catch up. “I really appreciate it!”
They stepped through the sliding glass doors and onto the sidewalk. With a slow pace, the man walked to a truck idling nosily by the curb. Beaten to hell, with the dents to show for it, the faded gray vehicle sat empty, waiting for its owner like a beloved Labrador.
“Aren’t you worried your truck will get stolen?” Sara asked, sparing a glance for the people passing by.
The man eased her duffel into the truck bed before heading to the driver’s-side door. “Ain’t no one stole it yet. Reckon it’s too old.”
Made sense.
Sara yanked the passenger door open before climbing onto the flat bench seat. The foam showed through various rips and holes, kept from ripping further with duct tape. She pulled her door closed, only to have it bounce off the metal casing with a loud clang.
“Gotta slam it.”
With two hands she tried again, giving it all her strength. This time the whole truck shook as the door lodged in place.
“You in?” The man’s pale blue gaze slid her way.
“Uh, I think so…” She dug her hand into the crack of the seat for the latch to her seatbelt.
“Seatbelt don’t work.”
All righty, then.
Rivaling most jet engines for noise, the truck lurched forward before crawling out into the lane.
“Anyway, thanks again for coming to get me. It was really nice of you—I didn’t catch your name…” Sara let the sentence linger in expectation.
“Jake.”
“Oh hi, Jake. Thanks for picking me up.”
Jake had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee, looking out through the cracked windshield. Silence loitered a little too long.
“I’m Sara,” she tried. Then laughed to herself. “But then, you already knew that, I guess. I mean, you wrote it on the sign, so…”
Her words drifted through the cab. Jake continued to stare out the windshield without comment.
She cleared her throat, a nervous habit she couldn’t seem to get rid of, and clasped her hands in her lap. Intending to remain quiet, since that seemed to be his default setting, she noticed the giant blue sky looming over them.
“So far Montana looks as beautiful as everyone says it is.” She’d never been very good at the Silence Game. “Have you been here long?”
“All my life.”
She nodded, clasping her hands a little tighter to combat the awkwardness of silence. It wasn’t working. “I’m from Nevada. About an hour outside Reno. You ever been to Reno?”
“Nope.”
Nodding again, eyes scanning