SHELTER

Chapter 26

Warren slumped down on the couch. He hadn't moved from it all night. His back hurt from the couple hours of extremely uncomfortable sleep he'd clocked. He couldn't recall having a more restless night since leaving the service. Every moment he expected Jolie to walk through the door. He'd crafted ten different apologies. It took everything he had to physically restrain himself from calling her.

Jake was lucky he hadn't been around after Jolie had left. Warren wasn't above taking out his frustrations on Jake's smarmy face. Warren had paced only a minute before downing the rest of his beer and setting out in search of Jolie but she'd vanished into the night. Finally, he'd retreated home to pray for her safe and timely return.

Around 2 a.m. Warren understood why she was angry. He should have told her. In the hands of Jake, the information looked like a secret he'd been trying to keep. If she'd come to the conclusion he was keeping secrets, the question begged to be asked. Why? He couldn't blame her for asking the obvious.

By 4 a.m., when she hadn't come home, he was convinced he'd screwed up big time. He dozed fitfully, dreams of Jolie boarding an airplane on the arm of douche bag Jake parading behind his eyelids. Warren could admit he'd made a mistake, but that didn't change the fact it took a particularly pathetic, slimey bottom feeder of a man to use it. If he got his hands on Officer Jake Monroe there would be a whole world of hurt to be visited.

Warren's eyes felt gritty. His shoulder and back ached from sleeping in such an awkward position. He ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed his face several times. He made his way to his feet with a deep groan and shuffled off to the kitchen in search of coffee. His heart stopped at the sound of footsteps on the gravel outside.

***

Jolie walked until she couldn't feel her feet. It hadn't taken long to reach that point in the cold winter night with her inappropriate shoes. Then again, she hadn't planned on pacing the dark streets in emotional anguish.

She had hours until the shop working on her bike would open. That was assuming they'd be open on New Years day which was a long shot. More likely she'd have to wait until Monday to get her bike back, pay off the rest of her balance for it's repair, and get gone. It was still cold but the roads were clear. If she were lucky she could stay in good weather and keep heading south east until she reached warmer climates.

The only problem would be finding a place to stay until then and returning to Warren's to get her things.

The lights of the truck stop gave her a destination to reach. A bright beacon beside the highway, it was the only 24 hour business in the city and likely the only place other than the community center occupied by people at this hour. It would also be warm and have a supply of fresh, hot coffee to assist her mind in it's continual whirling.

Jolie relished the wave of warm air redolent with fried food and dark coffee that assaulted her when she opened the door. Her skin prickled and a dull ache started in her toes as her extremities began to thaw.

She chose a booth in the back where she'd be hidden from the view of anyone entering. An older, tired looking waitress appeared from direction of the kitchen with a pot of coffee, a porcelain mug, and a small dish filled with little white thimbles of cream.

"Anything else I can get you hun?" The waitress, whose name tag read Fran, asked after filling the mug.

Jolie shook her head but smiled as she emptied a sugar packet and cream into the cup. The waitress gave her a sympathetic look and walked away.

She'd calmed down a lot while she walked. Now she just felt exhausted and confused.

Part of her absolutely yearned to be with Warren. It told her that she didn't care what had happened, that he'd lied by omission, hid things from her. That part of her told her that nothing mattered more than going home and making whatever this was between them work. Jolie could almost feel his hands pulling her to him and skimming the smooth skin of her back as he held her close. It was a physical pull and visceral desire to just forget the arguement and return home to Warren.