Jake Bryant stood with one foot on the hot pavement and the other in the Nevada sand. A bag lay at his feet with a change of clothes, a stick of deodorant, and a toothbrush. More items than he'd left Chicago with, in what felt like a lifetime ago, but in other ways, it seemed like only yesterday. He'd like to believe he'd changed in that time, but he feared he was still the same man who would repeat the same mistakes if given half a chance.

Jake smiled as a tractor-trailer raced towards him. He brushed his long hair from his face and raised a thumb to the heavens. The loud roar of the diesel engine cut-off and was followed by the squeal of the air brakes. The trailer shimmied to a stop fifty yards down the road from Jake. He grabbed his backpack and happily jogged to the waiting cab. His feet ached, and his back hurt. If this truck hadn't stopped, the prospects of someone picking him up after dark were slim, and it would have taken him all night to reach lodging by foot.

As the orange-red sun dipped behind the mountains, Jake pulled on the silver handle and climbed in. He tossed his bag on the floor and said, "Thanks for stopping."

The driver tipped his mesh hat to Jake and put the tractor into gear. "The name's Rusty. What's yours?"

"Jake."

"Nice to meet you," Rusty said. "Where you headed?"

"Anywhere you're going." Jake slammed the door shut.

"I'm going home to North Vegas after I drop this freight off at the Excalibur."

Jake secured his seatbelt and settled into the wide leather seat. "Perfect. You can drop me off at one of the cheap motels near the edge of town."

Depressing the clutch, the muscles in the thin man's arms moved the shifter up to second gear. "You're lucky I came along. At night, the temperature drops faster than you think in the desert."

"I know. I've been caught out there a time or two, so there's a jacket in my pack."

"Been on the road long?"

Jake shrugged. "You could say that."

Rusty leaned forward and decreased the volume on the radio. "Me too. I haven't slept in my own bed in over a month."

"I haven't been home in over two years."

A whistle escaped Rusty's lips. "Two years! You running from something?"

Jake nodded. "You could say that."

"I hope it's not from the law." Rusty's hand inched to a spot under his seat. "I don't want to be arrested for aiding and abetting a murderer."

The statement stabbed at the hole in Jake's heart. His daughter's death still haunted him. Not a day passed that he didn't list his regrets from that terrible night. A glutton for pain, Jake liked picking at the scab so it wouldn't heal. And why should it? If he'd handled things differently, Sam would be alive and sitting in a dorm room somewhere with her friends, laughing and eating pizza while they pretended to study. At least that was the dream he conjured up in his head.

Sighing, Jake said, "No. I'm on the run from my past."

The trucker's hand slowly moved back to the shifter. "Aren't we all."

Jake closed his eyes before he spoke. "True. But I lost everything I cared about in the blink of an eye. I didn't pull the trigger, but I may as well have."

Rusty shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sorry, man."

"Thanks."

They drove on in silence until the neon lights of Vegas appeared on the horizon. The road widened as cars and trucks descended on sin city. Rusty maneuvered the shifter into a lower gear and said, "If you don't mind me asking, who did you lose?"

"My daughter."

Rusty frowned. "I never had any kids. Never got married either. It's a lonely life out here on the road. I got a girlfriend though— she should be home waiting for me if another guy didn't steal her while I was gone."

Jake smiled. "I bet she's there."

"She better have some biscuits in the oven and her buns in bed." Rusty laughed before running a finger over a thin mustache that provided a distraction from his large nose. "I suppose you ain't got nobody special being on the road for so long."

Jake shook his head. "No. My marriage ended a long time before that night."

"No one else?"

"My mom . . . And a friend. She's not my girlfriend, but she worries about me."

Rusty let out a breath he had held. "That's nice."

Jake pulled his phone from his pocket. "I should probably text her and tell her where I'm at."

"Your mom?"

Jake unlocked his phone and sent her a quick message. "No. My not-girlfriend, Mary."

"She pretty?"

A grin slid across Jake's face. "Yeah."

Rusty smiled, revealed a missing tooth. "Then why don't you make her your girlfriend?"

"It's complicated. She was my best friend's wife, but he's dead too."

"Ohhh." Rusty's lips formed a perfect circle.

Jake knew what he must be thinking this time. That death followed Jake around like a bad smell, but he didn't blame the guy. Jake thought the same thing. The city lights grew closer and more garish. A chain motel famous for its cheap rooms sat a block off the strip. Jake pointed at the blue sign with the orange number. "That place will do."

"Are you sure you don't want to go to a casino? You'd get a nicer room for only a few dollars more."

Jake shook his head. "No thanks, but I do want to buy you dinner. Will you let me do that?"

The trucker smiled. "That would be nice of ya, but like I said, I need to drop off this load and get home to my little lady. Maybe next time."

"Next time," Jake agreed, knowing he'd never see the trucker again.

The tractor-trailer pulled to a stop at the edge of the parking lot. Rusty extended his hand, and Jake gave it a good shake. "Can't thank you enough. Not many people stop for hitchhikers anymore."

"No problem. I like to pay it forward. One day I'm sure I'll get it back."

Jake grabbed his pack from the floor and opened the truck's door as an image of Tom flashed in his head. He said, "That reminds me of what my friend used to say— 'if you live long enough, you get what you deserve'."

"I hope that's true." Rusty dropped the clutch and put the big rig back into gear.

"I'm living proof." Jake stepped back and watched as the truck eased out of the parking lot. Heaving the pack onto his shoulder, he trudged towards the motel lobby and a future more shocking than his past.