Story Ideas

Tropes

• Small town romance
• Firefighter and single mom
• Friends to lovers
• Abusive ex

It’s raining cats and dogs.

As soon as the saying flies through my mind, I can’t stop the snort that escapes, the accompanying smile causing a twinge of pain on my right cheek. Hysteria feels like it’s bubbling through my chest, trying desperately to escape, and one hand leaves the steering wheel to cover my mouth, as if I can stuff it all back down.

It’s a weird saying and I wonder who sat around staring at the rain, thinking, ‘Yeah, cats and dogs. Totally the same’. Logically, I know that’s not what it means but my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders right now.

The hysterical laughter fading off, my bottom lip starts trembling enough that my teeth chatter against each other, the sound competing with the drumming rain on the metal surface of the car.

The wipers are on the fastest speed, trying to clear the water away, but it’s a deluge out there. It was getting harder and harder to see the edges of the road, especially because there were no painted lines. I need to pull over, and soon, because I can’t keep driving in this–it wasn’t safe.

I peer into the rearview mirror, catching sight of Hannah in her own mirror that faces the rear-facing car seat. Her cheeks are rosy and puffed out, like a little chipmunk, her rosebud lips parted as she snuffles.

Her eyes are closed, just like they have been every other time I checked, which I’m thankful for. This would be a thousand times more stressful if she’d been squalling away in the back, but luckily, she loves to nap in the car, always has. Although ‘always’ seems to imply a longer time than the three months that she’s been earth-side. It’s hard for me to believe how much has changed since that little cherub came into my life. She’s not even been around six months and she’s the reason I’m here, the reason I’m alive. Seems like a lot of pressure to put on such a small wee thing.

I didn’t know anything about babies. Even with Hannah, I still wouldn’t call myself an expert. I was an only child, a surprise for two people who’d never planned on having any kids and were always more focused on their careers than anything else. Sports games? No. Dance recitals? Absolutely not? Boarding school, now that sounds like a good plan because out of sight, out of mind, right?

When I’d gotten pregnant, none of my friends had started having babies yet, and even if they had, they weren’t the kind of people I’d have asked for help. They weren’t really my friends, just people who were in my life because of David or people who were just on the fringes, popping up every now and then to pretend we were more than we were, especially if they sniffed out any kind of drama.

The days before I left, my phone had been ringing almost off the hook. It’d rang and rang and rang until I’d chucked it into the toilet and flushed. The phone hadn’t gone anywhere but it’d fallen blessedly silent. I’d been so sick of pretending that my life was perfect when behind closed doors, it’d been anything but, and the vultures had been circling long before I’d actually decided to leave.

The car juddered under my hands and I blink, staring down at the dash. The tank is full but the car’s slowing, even as I press harder on the accelerator. I carefully ease the old car onto the side of the road, rolling to a stop on the verge and hopefully far enough over that no passing cars would hit us.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” I coo softly, even though Hannah hasn’t stirred. “Everything’s all okay. We’re absolutely not stuck here in a storm and just because no cars have gone past in,” I check my watch, “thirty minutes or so, doesn’t mean one won’t come along soon. And it absolutely won’t be a serial killer because everything has already been shitty enough and we don’t deserve that…” My voice cracks as I trail off, shaking my head as I realize I’m cursing as I talk to a baby. I know she doesn’t know any better, plus she’s asleep, but still…

My parents and David would be horrified with my uncouthness but they’re not here to judge. Plus, they could never judge me as horribly as I judge myself.

The headlights flicker just as the motor sputters before falling quiet. I inhale shakily before turning the key in the ignition, trying to turn the car back on, but nothing happens except for some clicking noises.

It’s dead.

I’m in the middle of an old highway with my three month old baby and my car is dead. Can this day get any fucking worse? I’m driving cross country with my baby, barely any money and only the barest essentials I’d been able to pack before David came home. I had everything I needed for Hannah, but absolutely no idea what was even in my own bags. Hopefully at least a toothbrush and some clean underwear.

It hadn’t mattered at the time because I’d know that once I got to Tamsyn’s place, everything would be better. She’d already made so many plans for when we arrived–she’d already set up a room for us and scored a second-hand cot for Hannah. I was going to work at her bakery with her and she’d talked about doing a day trip to the next town over so we could go to Walmart and do some shopping for all the things I’d had to leave behind. She was going to be our fresh start, one where we’d be happy and have adventures just like we used to at school, although maybe they’d look a little different now that we were in our twenties. I mean, she was a business owner and I was a mom.

Tamsyn was my closest friend and the biggest secret I’d ever kept from my parents and David. When I was a teenager, I’d known instinctively that my parents wouldn’t approve of our friendship, believing Tamsyn to be of the ‘working class’ and beneath our notice. She didn’t have money, connections or how to survive in our world, so I’d never told them about her. After we left boarding school, Tamsyn had gone across the country to study business while I’d stayed in Boston to study teaching. We’d stayed in contact, rarely seeing each other, but our friendship stayed strong. It’d been a running joke that we were soulmates, the same person just split between two bodies. When Tamsyn had moved back to her hometown, Falcon Creek, to help her grandmother with her bakery, she’d extended an open invitation to visit any time. I’d just never taken her up on it until now.

If I’d done my job right, David would still be completely unaware of what Tamsyn meant to me or that she even existed in the first place. He definitely wouldn’t think to look for me in a tiny town eight hours away from where we live.

He won’t find me in Falcon Creek, which means it’ll be safe there. For me and for Hannah.

It had to be.

My phone vibrates and I pick it up, clicking the screen on and wincing at the dwindling battery life. Scrolling through the notifications, I see that there are several missed calls from both David and my father but I ignore them, instead focusing on the messages from my friend.

Tammy:

How far away are you?

Tammy:

It’s been a couple hours now. Are you okay??

Tammy:

Please message me back, I’m getting worried.

Callie:

Sorry! This rain was insane. We’re safe, I’ve just

pulled over until the weather clears.

Tammy:

Are you sure? Where are you?

Callie:

Still on the main highway to Falcon Creek, I

guess. I haven’t turned off or anything. But…

Tammy:

Fuck, what is it?

Callie:

The car seems to have stopped working. And my

phone is dying.

Tammy:

Oh god. Oh shit. You’re gonna give me a hernia

and you’re not even here yet. I’m going to come

out and find you.

Tammy:

Is baby girl okay?

Callie:

She’s having the best nap of her life. Don’t come

out until the storm passes. We’re okay right now.

I see the dots start pulsing, telling me that Tammy’s replying, but before anything comes in, the screen of my phone goes dark. “Oh no… no, no, no…” I jab at the buttons on the side but it’s useless.

I’m officially stranded on a highway.

***

It’s been 90 minutes and the rain hasn’t let up once.

I’ve never felt more like a terrible mother than I do right now. Even when I found out that Hannah even existed, right when I realized what David had almost done, I didn’t feel this shitty.

I keep wondering about where we’d be if I hadn’t left. Even if we’d still been in that horrible house, the one that sucks all the light out of me as soon as I step over the threshold, we’d still be warm and safe.

I think about the guy I’d bought the car off and curse inwardly. It’d been easy to tell he was shady from the get-go–he’d had the whole shifty eye thing down and his palms had been so greasy when he shook my hand. Combine all that with his combover and ill-fitting suit, I’d been asking to be ripped off. But he’d been cheap and took cash, with zero questions and no ID.

Guess now I know why.

I’d been so hopeful the piece of junk he’d sold me would just make it to Falcon Creek and now, here we sat. Hopefully this will be a funny story I tell Hannah when she’s older, rather than becoming the star in a cautionary tale on a Netflix documentary. Seems like that’s the way my life’s heading at the moment, the way my luck is going.

Forcing out a slow breath, I lean forward until my forehead’s resting on the steering wheel. My heart is pounding in my chest as I consider our situation. Tammy know’s our general location but it’s getting dark and cold. The car won’t turn on, so we have no lights, heating or way to charge my phone. Hannah is going to wake any minute but I can feed her and I have blankets for her in the trunk. David doesn’t know what direction we went, so there’s no chance he’ll find us but a serial killer trucker might.

Note to self: When we get out of here, stop watching murder documentaries.

I’m panting now, my breaths harsh in the quiet of the car, competing with the sound of the rain. Every noise makes me flinch, head jerking up to check for oncoming headlights. I don’t know what I’m more scared about, seeing a car coming or not seeing one at all.

My breathing is still loud and I hold it desperately when Hannah shifts in her carseat, a little whimper escaping her. I peer in the mirror at her, watching as she frowns, her little face going red, and just when I think she’s about to let loose, her mouth starts sucking on nothing and she resettles into sleep.

Do babies have dreams? Do they have nightmares? I add the questions to my mental list of things to Google later, just as the burning in my chest reminds me that I need to breathe. As I let out the shaky exhale, pursing my lips to slow it right now, my eyes fill. I clench them shut to stop any tears from escaping because if I start crying right now, I don’t know if I’ll stop.

I scrub my hands over my face, wincing as the swollen skin of my cheek throbs. I flick down my visor, finding the mirror and assessing the damage with a grimace.

It’s gotten worse since the last time I looked, which is saying something. I flick the visor away, not wanting to look any longer, when movement catches my eye. I turn to look at my window and shriek, cutting the sound off quickly by smothering it with my palms. Hannah stirs in the back but my eyes are fixed on the window and the dark shape standing outside it.

It’s a man–it has to be, he’s massive, and his hand is raised, as if he was about to tap on the glass. I whimper, the tears I’ve been trying to hold back falling freely down my cheeks. I want to close my eyes, to pretend this isn’t happening, but I’m the only thing standing between Hannah and danger, and I refuse to let anything bad happen to her.

The guy crouches down, his face level with the window, the tips of his fingers resting against the glass, but there’s a large hat on his head, rain dripping from the brim. It’s already getting dark out there and so the hat completely shadows his face, leaving the only thing visible a stubble covered jaw.

Perfect thing for a serial killer to wear to cover their identity.

I shiver, pushing myself backwards, away, until my elbow bangs into the gearbox. I desperately want to check on Hannah but I don’t want to draw attention to her. She’s quiet–maybe she’s still asleep or maybe she senses the danger.

I swallow hard, mouth opening but no sound comes out. And then his lips are opening. Even muffled, I can hear the deep, raspiness of his voice when he calls, “Ma’am?”

It’s not David. His jaw is too strong, too square, and his voice too deep. My brain knows it isn’t David but my breathing has kicked up a notch again and everything is suddenly looking a bit fuzzy, like I’m looking through water. My chest aches and when I lift a hand in front of my face, it’s trembling uncontrollably.

I know what’s happening. It isn’t the first time I’ve had a panic attack, but it’s almost as if I’m above my body, watching it all happening to someone else.

“Ma’am, please unlock the door. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I froze, indecision warring with my survival instincts. My eyes are flying around wildly, searching for an escape route but…Hannah. My breathing seemed to speed up and that logical part of me knew I was on the verge of hyperventilating and, terrified of passing out, I lurch forward, smashing my hand down on the button that unlocks the door.

He immediately yanks it open, still crouching next to the car and trying to appear harmless. If I’d had any breath to, I’d have laughed because he was ginormous and in no world would he ever look harmless. His shoulders filled the entire space of the door, his chest broad and thighs basically tree trunks with denim encasing them. Sitting on his haunches with one palm on the seat next to my leg and the other on the edge of the door, he leans towards me. As he gets closer, the first thing I notice is that he’s gorgeous, in a very rugged, cowboy kind of way. His dark brown hair is curling around his ears and midnight blue eyes watch me with concern.

Jesus, Callie, you want to stop ogling the guy when you can’t breathe?

“You’re having a panic attack. I want you to breathe with me, okay? In for four. That’s it, good girl. Out for four. No, slow it down a little.” The man moved slowly, as if she were a wild, cornered animal, and lay one hand on my leg. “Do it again. Good. Again.” He kept breathing himself, encouraging me to copy him. After several minutes, he asked, “Tell me five things you can see.”

“U-um,” I let out a shuddering breath, “rain, steering wheel, keys, ground, you.”

“Good, good. Four things you feel.”

I blink rapidly. “The wind, your hand, the car, water.” We both look down to where his jacket sleeve is dripping on my leg and he gives me a wry smile.

“Sorry about that.” He gives his arm a shake, trying to get the rain off, but we both know it’s useless. “Okay, three things you hear.”

“The rain, your voice, my breathing.”

“Two things you smell.”

I shake my head, my body slumping against my seat. His hand is smoothing a circle on my knee and I stare at it in bemusement. “The rain, I guess? The air freshener. Pine.”

He nods, his smile kicking up a notch. “And one thing you can taste.”

I clamp my lips together, thinking way too hard about this one before shaking my head. “Nothing?”

He chuckles, patting my leg. “Fair enough.” We both go quiet, watching each other. My breathing has evened out, although my heart still feels erratic and cold sweat is trickling down my back. No one had ever been able to talk me out of a panic attack before, but no one else had ever actually tried either.

The silence is growing and I’m not sure what I should do now. He helped me but he’s a stranger in my personal space and my whole life, I’ve been taught that strange men equal danger, especially when I’m alone in the dark. Years of being told never to go walking by myself, never to dress too provocatively, never to smile too widely–all those messages ingrained so that right now, I’m petrified about what this man might do if I give him an opening.

“I know this isn’t the best of meetings, but my name is JT.” He gives me a wide smile, all teeth and good humor. I blink, unsure how to respond but forcing myself not to edge backwards. When I don’t answer, he prods, “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“C-Callie.”

“Pretty name.” He watches me, his eyes seeing far more than I want them too.

“What does JT stand for?” I blurt the question out before I can stop myself but he doesn’t even blink.

“James Theodore.” He scrunches his face up in an exaggerated grimace and my lips twitch helplessly when he bemoans, “It’s a family name. I’m actually James Theodore Junior, if you want to be technical about it.” His eyes flicker to my lips and I sink my teeth into the lower one, hiding that small smile. “Where were you headed in this weather, darlin’?”

“Um, I don’t know…” I look around as if someone else is going to jump out and save me. “I don’t know if I should tell you that.”

He gives a short nod, considering. “That’s fair. It’s dark, you’re a woman alone.” He leans his weight to one side, digging through one of his jean pockets. He pulls out a brown leather wallet, not caring about the rain as he opens it and pulls out an ID card and hands it over to me.

“James Theodore Montgomery,” I read out loud, “Falcon Creek Fire Department. You’re a firefighter? In Falcon Creek?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I know that shouldn’t make me feel better, I know that even first responders can be dangerous, but my shoulders lose some tension anyway. “How far are we? From Falcon Creek, I mean?”

He squints one eye as he thinks. “About twenty minutes, give or take. Is that where you were headed?”

I nod. “Yeah, right before my car died.”

“That’d explain why you’re sitting here in the dark. Do you mind if I give it a go?” He tilts his head towards the keys, still dangling in the ignition barrel. I give him a jerky nod, watching as he takes his hand off my leg, grabbing the news and twisting them.

Click, click, click.

“Ah. You weren’t kidding when you said it was dead.” He leans back, clapping both his palms down on his knees, pursing his lips as he considers me. “You can’t stay out here all night–it’s gonna get real cold soon.” He winks, trying to lighten the mood. “Mac, our mechanic, won’t be towing anyone in this weather. He complains his bones creak too much in the cold, so he’ll already be tucked up in bed. I keep telling him to hire some people but…” He gives a shrug before giving me a serious look. “You’re not going to want to take this offer, but let me give you a ride to town.”

“I…” I have no idea what I’m going to say but before I can, a loud squall comes from the backseat. Both our heads jerk towards the sound and after a moment, JT sucks in a sharp breath and I realize my mistake. I slowly turn back towards him, finding his eyes on me and his hand hovering between us, as if he’s thinking of touching me.

He sighs deeply, his eyes wounded before something changes in his expression, almost like a mask coming down. “Callie, darlin’,” he starts, “you got a baby back there?”

Another whimper escapes me and I give a jerky nod. “Okay then, we definitely need to get you both out of this weather. You got a phone on you?”

“It’s dead, too.”

He shakes his head. “This is not your day, is it, darlin’? Alright, here’s how it’s gonna go. We’re gonna move you and the little one to my truck. I’ll blast the heat and turn on seat warmers. While you’re both warming up, I’ll grab everything you need from the car and we’ll head out.”

I’m so bone tired that even if I could argue, I won’t. Having someone take charge is filling me with so much relief that I’m not even sure I’d mind if he kidnapped me and wore my skin like a coat.

“Are you a serial killer?”

He snorts out a laugh, the sound so unexpected that it draws a smile from me too. “I mean, if I say no, you’d say that’s what a serial killer would say. If I say yes, then I’m definitely not gonna get you in my truck.” He eyes me, his eyes twinkling. “So I’m gonna go with no, I am not a serial killer.”

I eye him right back, stating solemnly, “That’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”

He rolls his eyes before standing up. “C’mon, darlin’, time to get a move on. If I get any wetter, my whole body’s gonna shrivel up like an old prune.”

Without further ado, we get the car seat strapped into his car without Hannah getting too wet and he’s helped me into the passenger seat of his giant truck.

Giant vehicle to match his ginormous frame, I guess. I’ve always been a small person but he makes me feel absolutely tiny, the top of my head only just reaching his shoulder. Once I’m situated, he casually leans in and does my seatbelt up before fiddling with the knobs to turn on the heat.

A sigh, my body practically melting into the comfy seat, shivering as I start to finally warm up. I hadn’t even realized how cold I was until the warm air was brushing over my skin.

Just a couple minutes later, he’s put the rest of our belongings under the cover in the bed of the truck and he’s sliding his wet body behind the wheel.

“Your truck’s getting all wet.” I observe, watching as he deftly pulls the truck onto the road. I watch as the stupid car in the wing mirror until it disappears from view, feeling nothing but glad that it’s gone.

“It’ll dry.”

“If you don’t end up keeping me in your basement,” my head lolls back against the headrest, my eyes heavy, “I just want to say that I really appreciate everything you helping us.”

I feel him look over at me but keep my eyes out the window, watching the darkened landscape pass us by. I hear his murmur, though, sliding over my skin and warming me more than the hot air blasting from the vents ever could.

“Anytime, darlin’, anytime.”