59 "the return of scareface"

I'd been sittin' in that diner so long I'd learned the rhythm of it.The way the bell rang when someone new came in. The clink of silverware. The low hum of conversation that never quite stopped. I liked people-watchin'. It kept my mind busy, kept it from wanderin' back to places I didn't want to go.That's when I noticed the tractor trailer.Big. Shiny. Parked crooked across half the lot like it owned the place.It was Texas. Trucks like that weren't unusual, so I didn't think much of it—until the door opened and trouble walked straight in and sat right in front of me.Travis.My stomach dropped so hard I thought I might throw up right there in the booth.I went pale. I could feel it happen. My hands curled tight around my milk cup like it might keep me anchored to the seat. My heart was poundin' so loud I was sure he could hear it."Well I'll be damned," he said, that cocky half-grin already on his face. "Look what the road dragged in."I hated him in that moment. Hated the way he smiled like nothin' in the world could touch him. Hated the way fear crawled up my spine anyway.Then his eyes shifted.Right to my mouth.The grin faded just a little."The hell happened to your lip?" he asked, quieter than I expected.I looked away. "Doesn't matter."His jaw tightened. "Yeah. It does."He leaned back in the booth like he had all the time in the world. "I know what happened after you left the ranch. I was there. I saw Rip after."My chest tightened. "Don't," I whispered. "Please..."Travis rubbed a hand over his face. "Man was sick about Bustin your lip. Real sick. Wouldn't shut up about how he fucked up. About how he broke somethin' he couldn't fix. And Walker—" he shook his head. "That boy ain't been right either."I swallowed hard. My hands were shakin' now."Please," I said again, my voice barely holdin' together. "Don't tell him where I am. Don't tell anyone. I'm beggin' you."Travis studied me for a long moment. Not the way he used to—no leer, no joke. Just lookin'."Alright," he finally said. "I won't."Relief hit me so fast it made me dizzy."You should go home though," he added. "That place is still yours whether you want it or not."I shook my head immediately. "No. I won't. Ever."He frowned. "Then where the hell are you stayin'?"I didn't answer. I just nodded toward the window. Toward my truck.His eyes followed, and when he realized, he let out a low whistle. "Jesus, Willie."He looked back at me like he was seein' me for the first time. "That ain't livin'.""It's workin'," I said quietly.He shook his head again, disbelief written all over his face. "You're stubborn as hell. You know that?"

"So I've been told."He sat there for a moment, thinkin'. Then he leaned forward. "I got a place. Horse operation not too far from here. I could use a vet assistant. Someone who actually knows what they're doin'."My heart stuttered. "I'm not certified.""I know."

"And I'm pregnant," I added quickly. "I don't wanna jeopardize your business or—"He held up a hand. "Stop. I've seen you work. You're better than half the 'certified' idiots I pay."I hesitated. "Travis—"

"You ain't sleepin' in that truck anymore," he said firmly. "You'll get paid. You'll get a roof. And if anyone's got a problem with you bein' pregnant, they can take it up with me."I stared at him, stunned."Think about it," he said, standing up from the booth. "I'll be here tomorrow mornin'. Same time."He paused, lookin' down at me. "You ain't as alone as you think, scarface."

Then he walked out, the bell jinglin' behind him. I sat there for a long time after that, one hand on my milk, the other resting over my stomach. For the first time in weeks, the future didn't feel like a dead end.It felt like a fork in the road.

I didn't sleep much that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Travis sittin' across from me in that booth, saw the look on his face when he realized I'd been livin' out of my truck. I didn't trust him—not completely—but I trusted desperation even less. And desperation had been drivin' me for weeks.

By sunrise, I'd made my decision.I washed my face in the diner bathroom, stared at myself in the cracked mirror. My lip was still red, still swollen, the fishing line stitch visible if you looked close enough. I tucked my hair behind my ears, squared my shoulders, and told myself I'd survived worse.Travis was already there when I stepped outside. Leanin' against his truck, coffee in hand like he'd been born waitin' on people.

"You're up early," he said.

"Couldn't sleep."

He nodded like he expected that. "You eat?"

"Not yet."

"We'll fix that."

The drive to his place took longer than I expected. Miles of open land, fences stretchin' forever, horses dotting the fields like they belonged there more than any of us ever could. When we pulled in, I felt something loosen in my chest I hadn't realized was tight.The stables were big. Clean. Busy.I stepped out slow, my boots crunchin' on gravel. Horses lifted their heads when they heard us, ears flickin', eyes watchful. It felt... right. Like I was steppin' back into somethin' I understood."This ain't permanent if you don't want it to be," Travis said. "But it's yours as long as you need."He walked me through the barn, introducin' me to hands and trainers. He didn't mention my lip. Didn't mention the baby. Just told them I was helpin' with health checks, foals, emergencies.They didn't question it.My first job was checkin' a mare who'd been favorin' her back leg. I knelt slow, careful, talkin' soft to her, lettin' her smell my hand before I touched her. The barn noise faded away, replaced by the steady rhythm of breath and muscle and instinct."You're good," Travis said quietly from behind me. I didn't look up. "I know."...

That afternoon, he handed me a set of keys."Trailer out back," he said. "Ain't fancy. But it's warm. Got a bed."My throat tightened. "Thank you."He shrugged. "Just don't make me regret it."He began to walk away. I spoke up "Travis?..." I said shyly. He looked back at me. "Hm?""Why... why are you being so nice to me?" I asked. Travis sighed. "I owe you" he said. I furrrowed my brows. "Owe me?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Remember the night when you were jumped? You had to be about 16? Well you took the heat for me. Said that knife wasn't yours... I could've lost my entire career off that small little fact. I owe you" My daddy beat my ass that night... I didn't see the light of day for weeks. I do believe he owed me on that.

That night, I slept indoors for the first time in weeks. The mattress was thin, the sheets smelled like dust, but it was the safest I'd felt in a long time. I lay on my back, one hand on my stomach, listenin' to the quiet.In the dark, the questions came back. About Walker. About Rip. About the life I'd run from.But for once, they didn't crush me.Because in the mornin', there would be horses to check. Work to do. A reason to get up.And for now, that was enough.