"Pack yourself a toothbrush dear

Pack yourself a favorite blouse.

Take a withdrawal slip

Take all of your savings out.

Cause if we don't leave this town,

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown.

Baby, come on."

Those first few hours of freedom were absolute bliss! Flying down the highway with the windows down, music blasting as you sang at the top of your lungs. It was everything you had dreamed of. You did it. You were out. You had quit your job, cashed out your life savings, bought a cheap but reliable car, and hit the road without looking back.

All was going according to plan. That is, until 4 hours later your car started to smoke and sputter, compelling you to pull to the side of the road for fear of dying in a ball of fire. There wasn't anything you could do at the moment, what with it being 2am at the time. Thankfully, it was the middle of summer so sleeping in your car wasn't too uncomfortable, at least at night.

Now, you sat on the trunk of your car as the sun's punishing rays beat down on you at mid-morning. Having walked a hundred yards in each direction, you were finally able to get a signal on your cell phone so you could look up the closest town with a car repair shop.

You had left home late last night just after everyone went to bed, hoping to be long gone before anyone realized. Instead, you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with a non-functioning car. You spent the early hours turning on your phone intermittently solely to call the repair shop since their hours weren't listed. They didn't even have a website. Or voicemail. This was the problem with small towns.

Finally, at 8:34am, a gruff male voice answered the phone and you told him your dilemma, indicating the mile marker you were stranded near. Shielding your eyes with your hand, you could now see the tow truck headed your way. After waiting an hour, that beat-up pickup truck was a sight for sore eyes. Sliding off the car onto your feet, you brushed the dust from your shorts as the truck flipped a U-turn and backed up to your front bumper. When the mechanic stepped out, you had to admit he was not what you expected.

He was tall with a muscular build, chin-length hair tucked behind his ears. He sported a light blue short-sleeved button-up shirt with a patch above the left breast pocket, jeans snug on his long legs with well-worn work boots donning his feet. As he approached, you were drawn to his brilliant blue eyes, straight Grecian nose, and sculpted jaw covered in the right amount of stubble. A flutter rising in your chest, you tried not to gawk at the specimen before you and hoped he would assume the flush in your cheeks was from the heat.

"Need some help?" he asked in a rhetorical manner, his baritone voice sending you shivers.

You answered anyway with a sigh, "So it would seem."

"Wanna pop the hood?" he asked and you obliged.

After poking around the engine for a few minutes, he dropped the hood back in place and wiped his hands on a rag before stuffing it in his back pocket.

"Best guess? Busted radiator. I'll take a closer look when I get it back to the shop. I'm Bucky, by the way," he introduced himself while extending his hand.

"Y/N," you replied, grasping your hand in his, the skin calloused with fingertips permanently stained black. "Does, uh...James...mind if you wear his shirt?" you asked, nodding to the patch above his breast pocket.

"What—oh. Yeah," he laughed. "No, he doesn't mind. I am James, actually. Bucky's a nickname."

"Got it. Bucky," you smiled, feeling his name burst delightfully from your lips.

He held your gaze a moment longer, then looked away with a small cough. "I'll, um...I'll get your car hooked up in a few minutes."

With a nod, you opened your door to grab a few essentials before slamming it shut and watching in curiosity as he attached the towing contraption to the undercarriage. Once secure, he flipped the switch to raise the front wheels, an unholy groaning squeal erupting from the machinery. Bucky yelled something over the noise, an apology you thought, only catching a few words including "needs a little grease" which you found ironic coming from a mechanic. Covering your ears to lessen the sound, you felt your phone buzzing repeatedly in your pocket indicating a call.

Fishing it out, you froze at the name on the screen. Mom. Waving like a maniac toward the man and gesturing with a flat hand slashing across your neck, he got the message and stopped the squealing lift. Just in time, you swiped to answer the call and steeled yourself for what was to come.

Taking a deep breath, you spoke, "Hi, mom."

"Don't you 'hi, mom' me, young lady. How DARE you leave the house like that? Sneak out like a thief in the night and leave me to find a note on your bed in the morning?" She sounded worried and hurt, which is what you were afraid of.

"I know, mom, I'm sorry but—"

"Couldn't you have said goodbye? Let me know your plans so I could prepare myself to lose my only daughter to the clutches of the frightful unknown?" Well, now, she was just being dramatic, which made you smile a little.

You huffed out a sigh, "Because you would have tried to stop me."

"You're darn right, I would have. You don't know what's out there! You could get mugged or attacked or never find a job and be broke and don't think I'll come right to your rescue, missy...."

You half-listened as your mother ranted on and on about all the terrible things that could happen to out in the scary world. It was the speech you received every time you brought up the subject of leaving town. In your head, you've been planning this for years but only in the past 6 months have you put it into action in secret.

"Mom. MOM," you interrupted her tirade, then softening your voice. "You knew this was going to happen. I've talked about this for years and I haven't changed my mind. It was time. I'm on my way and it's all going according to plan. I'm already a state away and I'm right on schedule. I know what I'm doing, mom. I'm sorry I had to leave the way I did, but this is happening and I'm not coming back. At least not for a while. I need you to accept that. I'm a grown woman and I've made my decision."

There was a pause on the line. You were trying your best to remain level-headed and logical to convince her all was well. No point in letting her in on your latest predicament. You saw Bucky in your sightline a few yards away as you paced back and forth, phone pressed to your ear. He was leaning against his truck with arms crossed, distracting you momentarily from your current conversation until a dramatic sigh broke the silence.

"Alright. Fine," your mother relented. "But what about your work at Maria's? She's gotten mighty dependent on you and now you're letting her down. You were showing so much improvement, dear."

The guilt trip. You were ready. "Maria already knew I was leaving, mom. I gave her two week's notice and made her swear not to tell anyone, so don't you blame her for not saying anything. She's been great to me and yeah, I don't mind cutting hair but it's not what I want to do with the rest of my life. I need to try to pursue this. Even if I fail, at least I'll know for sure."

Another heavy sigh was heard on the line, your heart tightening slightly at the expression of surrender you imagined your mother was wearing. You blinked at the unexpected moisture in your eyes as you momentarily regretted not saying goodbye. You didn't mean to hurt her.

"I love you, mom. I'll call in a day or two to check in," you promised, hiding a sniffle.

"You better, missy," she threatened lovingly. "I love you, too, pumpkin. Be safe."

"I will."

You stared at your phone moments after the call disconnected. It had gone about as well as you expected. Breaking your reverie, a loud squealing ripped through the air making you jump as Bucky restarted the lift. He mouthed a "sorry" as you met his eyes and sent him a glare. Minutes later your car was in place. You watched Bucky walk to the passenger's side of his truck and opened the door, gesturing for you to enter. You accepted his invitation and climbed in.

The first few minutes of the ride were in silence, the conversation with your mom still weighing heavily on your mind, until Bucky broke the silence.

"So...a runaway, huh?" he asked.

With an eye roll, you turned his way, " 'Runaway' is a term for wayward teens. I am a grown adult capable of making the decision to leave town and start over in a new place. Besides, I'm not running from. I'm running to."

You ignored the fact that he admitted to most likely hearing every word you had spoken on the phone. Whatever. He was a stranger and after your car was fixed, you'd be on your way.

"To...what?"

"Everything I've ever wanted," you answered vaguely with a smile.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but your license plates are for the state we are currently in. And I'd like to hear the part in your plan where you're stranded by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere," he smirked, eyes still focused on the road ahead.

He missed the eye daggers you were sending his way. "Well, aren't you a Nosy Nelly there, James," you teased.

The man crinkled his nose at your use of his first name.

"If you must know, yes, I may have fibbed a little on the phone. Technically, I'm only 4 or so hours away from home and the car troubles weren't on the agenda, but there are bound to be surprises on an adventure. And I was serious when I said I'm not going back. Soon I'll have your tiny town in the rear view mirror and be back on the open road," you finished with a triumphant grin.

"Now, wait a minute," he protested, "How do you know my town is tiny? Huh? Ever been there before?"

"Is there more than one traffic light?" you inquired, one eyebrow raised.

He failed to answer, which was confirmation enough.

You snorted. "That's what I thought."

The rest of the ride was uneventful, until you took it upon yourself to turn on the radio and flip through the preset buttons.

"Hey!"

"Country. Talk radio. Country. Spanish. Country. It's bad enough that we're stuck in Middle America where there's nothing to see or do, why does the radio have to suck so bad?" you asked as you continued to flip stations.

"Wait, go back!" he demanded.

Heeding his request you turned the dial backward until AC/DC's 'Back in Black' filled the truck's cab. "You dig the Oldies, huh?"

He grinned, "Nothin' wrong with the classics. Do you mind?"

With a shrug of your shoulders, you removed your hand from the dial. "Better than the other crap."

Time passed as you listened to the music, a few random comments from each of you. Finally, you viewed a few buildings in the distance and within minutes the truck was passing through town. Bucky slowed and pulled into the dirt parking lot of a building sporting the sign "Barnes Auto Shop" in peeling painted letters. He hopped out of the truck and you did the same.

"Give me an hour or two to take a better look and I'll let you know what parts and cost you're looking at. There's a diner about two blocks South if you're hungry. Wander on back when you're done," he had pulled a hair tie out of his pocket and gathered his hair into a bun while he had been talking. Normally, you weren't into the long-haired guys but somehow it worked for him.

Once you realized you had been staring without responding, you snapped out of it and spoke, "Um...thanks. Yeah, I'm starving. I'll, uh...I'll see you in a while then."

"Try the Boysenberry Pie while you're there. Even for breakfast, it really hits the spot."

Taking a few steps backward, you gave him a smile, "I'll do that," then turning to walk away.

"Oh, Y/N!" you heard him call after you and you whirled in place, surprised. "Keys. I need your keys."

You laughed, shaking your head, "Right. Sorry." Digging into your purse followed by a toss of the keys, he caught them out of the air before you headed in the direction of the diner once again.