Overnight

*edited & updated 4/16/25

CHAPTER 1

IVONNE HERNANDEZ

02:45

CHECK IN SHACK

“DONNY!”

The older man startles awake in the cold metal shack. He fell asleep on the space heater for the third time this week.

“Fuck, Ivonne.” He groans as he stretches in the small black office chair. “How long I been out?” He ruffles his blonde hair with his gloved hands and puts the beanie he’s been wearing tonight back on his head.

“45 minutes,” I mutter. “You lucky your wife sends me dinner with you, or I’d just fire you.”

He snickers, moving towards a coat hanger to grab a reflective jacket off it. “Kelly has saved me a ton during our marriage. Knew she’d come in handy.”

I roll my eyes. “I hope every Sunday, she drags you to church so you can thank the heavens for her.”

“You keep rolling them big brown eyes they gon’ fall out your head little girl.” Donny waggles his finger at me, jokingly.

“I do as I please,” I tease him back. “I am the manager after all.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let that go to your little head.”

“Don’t make fun of my age just because you’re getting to the big for- “

“DON’T YOU DARE?” Donny warned, his blue eyes narrowing at me.

I laughed at his serious expression. He’s going through a 2/5th’s life crisis as he’s calling it. He’s freaking out about being 40 next month and refuses to accept it. I don’t know why he was so worried about it. He’s a good-looking guy, with a good paying job, a good wife, and the most adorable 4-year-old I know.

“I don’t understand the problem with being 40!” I exclaim still chuckling at him as he pulls on his snow boots. “You act like the reaper is waiting out there for you while you walk the dock.”

Donny just keeps shooting me daggers as he ties his hoodie up and attaches his radio onto the small loop on the reflective jacket.

“It’s just another decade into being old. I had an existential crisis for my 30th.” he explained, “I envy your 27.”

I laugh again. “Everybody would love to be young again. But you’ve got a good thing going at 40. Good job, amazing wife, the cutest little toddler ever!”

“It’s the process of getting older. You just want to be young again forever. And young like you? With the salary they’re payin’ you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

I smile. Donny would make a great manager, and I’ve told him that. But the job demands so much time, time he’d rather spend with his family.

“You’re right. I waste my money paying a degree I don’t use.” I shrug. “You’re better off than me right now.”

Donny thinks about it. “You’re right. I’m dumb and happy, not educated or in debt.” And with that he walks out to go walk the dock.

I shake my head, turning my attention back to my laptop. I was tracking our volume for the night at our warehouse and we were still waiting on three inventory line-hauls. While we run 24 hours a day, and majority of our loads come in during the day, leaving the night shift with very little to worry about receiving. When I first joined the company I had started on the day shift, starting my day at 5am and leaving at 6pm. While it was nice to have a normal sleeping schedule that aligned with the rest of society, the day shift drove me crazy. The amount of social interaction with not only more coworkers as days shift was staffed heavier, but also the drivers.

Truck drivers are not known for their warm personalities and polite smiles, and at this warehouse they did not disappoint. I’ve been screamed at, threatened and at one point even had a driver get out and try to fight me. So when we lost a manager on the night shift, I jumped at the chance of solace. It also helped that at the time I was trying to stay as hidden as possible from the world.

Just as I’m about to call the first line-haul driver, my radio crackles to life.

“Ivonne, you at the shack?” The onsite warehouse manager, Joe, calls out to me.

“Yeah, I’m at the check in point. What’s up?” I answer back, hoping that it’s not a request for me to get out my seat and into the blistering cold snow of New Jersey.

“You busy? Wanted to run a few things by you.” Joe’s voice crackles back at me and I let out a huff.

“Shoot Joe.” I answered praying he’d just ask me.

“Ah its easy to explain it in person. Can you come meet me by the 200s bays?” Joe answered.

Why does this man always want to talk to me face to face; just shoot me a text message!

I groan at the prospect of having to leave the warmth of this small space heater. We were technically not supposed to have the space heater in the shack, something about a fire hazard. But the heat has been out for a month, and there are only so many layers you can throw on before you become immobile.

Just as I went to grab the radio and let Joe know I was coming into the warehouse, a line-haul pulled up, 30 minutes ahead of schedule.

I silently jump for joy, thanking this line-haul for keeping in the shack.

“Just had a line-haul show up. Can’t leave the yard unattended since Donny is doing the bay walk now. Shoot me a message.”

“Copy.” His answer was short, but I could tell he was not a happy camper I wouldn’t go inside. I can imagine the pout on his 30-year-old face, reminding me of Donny’s four-year old, Peter. It’s identical to when he puts on his little pouty face after he doesn’t get candy for breakfast.

I turn to the window as the line-haul driver climbs out of his cab and knocks on the sliding window. Typically drivers can just pull up comfortably to the shack without having to jump out, but the taller tractors didn’t allow for easy access. This poor sucker had to brace the cold just for some paperwork.

I couldn’t see the driver because of the ice sheet covering the window, distorting their face on the other side. I sighed, preparing myself for another battle with the window. As much as we tried to keep it from freezing over, the lack of circulating heat and the below freezing cold I was stuck fighting with it every hour. Preparing for resistance, I gave the window a forceful tug and to my surprise it went flying open easier than expected, shattering the ice onto my desk inside, and onto the driver outside.

“I am so sorry!” I exclaim not looking up at the driver, trying desperately to get the ice off my laptop and save it before any water could damage the keyboard and paperwork sitting on it.

“Don’t worry about it krasivyy” the deep smooth voice said with an accent I couldn’t place. I looked up finally and saw what had to be one of the most attractive men I had ever seen. Working at a warehouse and existing as basically a hermit, seeing men this handsome was rarer than white truffles on the side of the road. I could suddenly feel my heartbeat behind my eyes as I observed the specimen in front of me. His eyes were like the ocean, so blue and clear it almost scared me to look at him. His hair was a stark black, kept longer on top and faded on the side. He had the face of an angel, his jaw was angular and sharp with a light stubble that I could see from the light shining over us in the shack. Dark tattoos were peeking out from under his thick fleece sweater around his neck, also adorned by thin gold chains. He was tall too, probably around 6’4 or even taller. As one of the gold chains reflected in the light, I realized I hadn’t said anything since opening the window other than sorry.

Ivonne you have a job, or are you too blinded by beauty?

I cleared my throat, hoping I wasn’t staring at him for too long before speaking, “License and bill of lading?”

The driver pulled out his brown wallet, it was slightly tattered and the brown leather had started to wear and lose its shine in the middle where it would rub against his pants the most. He took out his ID and pulled his paperwork out from the pocket in his jacket. I do a quick check of his paperwork for the company’s dispatch number to register in the system. Thankfully we do business with Silvercaust all the time, and I just needed to register him as a verified driver and get him an access card. I look at his ID and almost audibly gasped.

How the hell does he look good even in his license? I shake my head.

This guy could be a freakin’ model and here he is, driving trucks. “How’s your night going?” his deep voice startled me. I was so in thought about how pretty he was I forgot he was even standing there. His voice sounded deep but rich. I compared it to a pint of good dark chocolate ice cream. I looked up from the computer screen to answer.

“Not too bad. Got another 8 hours of work ahead of me.” I answer politely as I usually do with the drivers who come in. We often get older men with families who are the road 4-5 days a week. They love talking about being able to finally get home and spend some time with them. But this guy seemed too young to have kids and a family to worry about.

29 to be exact, if I follow his license. He’s an Aquarius too.

Probably has a girlfriend in every state he drives with those looks. I mentally rolled my eyes at the thought. As pretty as this guy was, reality had started to set in that if he was this attractive, then he knew he was attractive. Men who know the power they hold in their looks are dangerous men I’ve learned though the years.

“How has your night been? Are we your last stop?” I ask him as I registered him in our system.

Arkadi Miska

DOB: January 31st, 1992

NY DOT #: 456743-100

Carrier: Silvercaust

“For the week yes, I’m being grounded until the snow dies down up north. Next stop is for me is Buffalo.” He answered. I hummed in acknowledgement as I continued to punch in the necessary information into my laptop. I vaguely remember seeing that we had a huge nor’easter coming down the east coast. I had already stocked up on groceries and other essentials early this week just in case we got snowed in. I looked up as I could still feel his eyes on me.

“They putting you up in our little town?” I joke with him. We’re in Forrest, New Jersey one of the smallest towns in the state. We’re down the east coast of the state on the very tip. It was heavily wooded forests where we located but only an hour from the shore.

“Seems like it.” He chuckles, his voice getting even deeper.

“They got me into a Holiday Inn down the street from here. Can’t complain.” I smile politely again at him as I handed his license back to him. “Sounds like a good deal. At least you’ll be closer to home in a week.” He raised a manicured brow at me in question. I pointed to his license, registered to the state of New York.

“I didn’t look at your address, but I figure being in the state puts you somewhat close to home.” I shrug, trying not to give away the fact that I do know where he lives because I most definitely did read his address. He smirked at me.

“Right.” He says slyly, as if he didn’t believe me but he was letting me have it.

“Hopefully next week I’ll be back, closer to home.” He teases me. I shake my head, trying to not roll my eyes at him. There's that attitude I was expecting of him.

“Please stand under the awning, I have to take a picture for your access card.” I direct him.

“If you wanted a picture of me darling all you had to do was ask.” He joked at me coming closer to the window.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much hun.” I scoff, even though I am fully aware of the effect this man has on my body. He is so painfully attractive, and he must know it. But this is the kind of man that leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at the mess he’s made. “Now be still. 1…2…3.” I took his picture and quickly uploaded it into our database.

Damn, can this guy not take a bad picture? Even in 25-degree weather he’s looking good.

“Alright, give the printer a minute to print out and code your access card. Then you’ll be free to go.” I let him know as I stood from the chair to get a quick stretch in. Though I regularly found my way to the gym, sitting or standing in one position too long will make your body feel tighter than spandex on a body builder. I was 8 hours into my 16-hour shift and I was already starting to feel it.

“You said you had 8 more hours. Did you just start the night?” I hear Arkadi ask me from the window.

“No, I’m 8 hours in. Getting a little stiff from being in here.” I tell him jokingly. I look and see a concerned expression on his face.

“What’s a young pretty girl like you working 16-hour shifts?” He asked suddenly serious. I’m suddenly taken aback. One because he called me pretty and two because working long hours has been a regular thing for me since I started working. I came from a working-class family, with lots of blue-collar workers and spent most of my childhood on jobs with my dad and uncles. I knew that the hours were long, but I never complained because well, I signed up for the job, knowing what it entails.

Also, young pretty girl?

“Pretty girls can’t work hard?” I shot back as usual when I was questioned by some of the drivers who came through. They always wanted to know why I was working so hard, why was I working so much, letting me know where else a “pretty face” like mine could be so much better at. How a husband should be taking care of me. I always laughed in their faces, knowing that a husband was nowhere near my future after my last stint with “true love”. Ah, the perks of being a young female manager at a warehouse.

He put his hands up in defense. “I didn’t mean to offend you; I’m just saying you look tired.” I huff slightly. So much for looking pretty. I was fairly sure that tired doesn’t fall under what constitutes a pretty girl.

“That’s what happens when you’re the head of a department.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really now? What are you 21? That’s impressive.”

I chuckle. “I’m 27. Been here since I graduated college. But thanks for the compliment.”

“You have a young face. You’re lucky.” He complimented me. I could feel a blush trying to take over my face at his comment. I look over just as our card printer spit out his access badge, saving me from blushing at the second compliment he’s given me.

I grab the ID card and a plain black lanyard for him to keep it on. “Here you go. Whenever you come in, you can use this to check in. When you leave the check in area, find the Silvercaust bay area for unload and park on any empty bay door. If there’s no door, go ‘head and park in a staging lane. Once you’re there you can update your location by swiping your badge on the readers either next to the staging lane or the bay door you back up to. Wherever you end up, you’ll need to punch in the last 4 numbers of your trailer in the keypad below the reader.” I give him the quick instructions and hand him his access card.

“If you need anything there will be members of my team walking the bay yard or you can walk into the closest truckers’ areas. Just look for the poor souls in the big yellow jackets.”Arkadi looked at me as he grabbed the card out of my hand slowly, maintain an eye contact that made my thighs clench. Although his gaze was intimidating, I maintained the eye contact, feigning confidence. He gave me a small smile, flashing me, again, with his white teeth. He definitely goes to his dentist every 6 months.

“Can’t have you show me around krasivyy?” He teased me, calling me that name again. I didn’t know what he was saying, and I hated being given a nickname by a stranger. Especially when I didn’t even understand the damn name.

“My name is Ivonne.” I crossed my arms over my chest with a slight attitude in my tone, “I don’t leave the shack. Now if you’d excuse me, I got another guy behind you. Have a good night sir. I’ll be here to check you out.”His grin widened.

“Can’t wait. I’ll be checking you out too Ivonne.” Arkadi put up his hood and hopped back in his tractor, pulling off into our yard. What he said made me shiver, and not because of the cold. I shook my head as the door to the shack swings open and revealed a snow-covered Donny.

“Fucking hell. It’s colder than a penguins ass crack.” Donny exclaimed, nearly throwing me out of the way to get to the space heater. His 6’0 overpowered my petite frame, and I nearly fell into the window. I laughed as a regular driver rolled down his window to flash his card at us.

“Good evening Mr. Brown. You’re all good to go! Be careful out on that side of the dock. Lights went out last night so it’s dark. Keep your beams on.” I tell him with a smile.

“That’s a good copy young lady. You two stay warm!” The 65-year-old smiled warmly, even though his grey mustache. He was an older man whose wife died a few years back. His daughter lives in the area with her son, so he continues to drive and visit them so he can spoil his grandson.

“We’ll try James! You know they don’t give us much here!” Donny joked as he straddled the space heater, still wearing his large reflective winter coat. James laughed as he pulled off towards his docking area. With no one else scheduled to check in for the next hour I decided to finally take lunch and go inside.

I turned to Donny as I grabbed a flashlight and my phone off the desk. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. Think you can be here alone and not burn the place down?” I teased throwing on my own reflective coat.

Donny snorted, “With this cold? I’d be happier if I did burn this shit down.”

I chuckled at his comment. “As long as I don’t get fired, do as you please.”

“Sounds good boss,” he said, sliding across the small shack towards the desk and check in window, the space heater in tow, “Enjoy your lunch. I know you hardly take one.” I nodded and put on my beanie and scarf before bracing the bitter New Jersey winter. I turned my flashlight on and clipped my walkie onto my coat.

Fuck, Donny wasn’t lying, I’m freezing, and it’s only been 2 minutes.

It was a ten-minute walk to the side of the building where I stashed my lunch in the trucker’s lounge. It was rarely used as that side of the warehouse was for management parking and most people used the indoor breakrooms since they worked inside the warehouse. I preferred eating alone to get a moment of peace to myself. I shivered trying to walk as fast as possible. It was well lit on this side of the building and she was grateful for that. The last thing she needed was for a driver to not pay attention and back into her as she walked along the row of docked trailed.

“Almost there.” I murmured, catching sight of the familiar stairs leading to the cage she’d badge in through to get into the truckers’ lounge.

Ivy you got a copy? I walkie crackled to life, Joe’s voice filling the silence of outside

For fucks sake man

I groan internally, Yeah what’s going on Joe? I reply begrudgingly as I climb the six steps up.

Hey you still busy? I wanted to run some numbers by you I

’m actually about to take my lunch, been here 8 hours and haven’t eaten. I reply as I wave my badge over the reader. I hear the door click, letting me in to the cage. Ah shit, don’t worry. Just check your email when you get a chance. Enjoy your lunch.

“Finally.” I muttered. “

Hello again.” A deep voice said to my left.