Cut And Dried

Damion

I had seen the truck on the side of the road and was already going to stop. It was what people did out in the country. Back in New York, I would have been less inclined to stop on the side of a dark road to offer help to a complete stranger, but not in Montana. I likely knew the person.

When I got close enough to see it was Alex, I was both thrilled and sad. She hadn’t even bothered to let me know she was back in town. Then again, she owed me nothing. Why would she tell me she was back? It still hurt a little to know she hadn’t bothered to say hi. I pushed it aside. My own sore ego didn’t matter. She needed help.

“Flat?” I asked the obvious, feeling a little dumb for asking such a dumb question.

“Yes. Flat.”

“Do you need help changing it?” I asked.

“No, I don’t need any help,” she snapped.

It was like I was meeting her for the first time. Our first meeting—hell, our first several meetings—had gone something like this. She talked to me with disdain and I got pissed. I wasn’t goi