A/N Welcome to the story! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy. I'd appreciate that no one steals my work and if you've seen someone has done so, please tell me immediately.

WARNING (For entirety of story) - mature themes, sexual content, age-gap and kinks.

It's an incredibly cold night tonight and very dark. The long stretch of the two-lane highway seems to go on forever in the distance, eventually disappearing into the black void. Rubbing my arms, the cold air burns my lungs with every breath that I take. The gravel on the side path crunches beneath my feet with every step and the jagged rocks poked into the souls of my worn in shoes.

I have nothing but the moonlight to guide me and the occasional lights when entering or exiting a town. It doesn't matter that I can barely see, I just keep walking. As to where, I don't know. I just have to keep going until I can't anymore. The life I had before isn't something I could handle anymore. I need something better, the future ahead of me. I'm young. I still have my whole life ahead to think about.

In the distance the hum of a vehicle approached and I stopped. The headlights of the car came close and I dropped my duffle bag before sticking out my hand for a lift. Every now and then someone nice enough or a little creepy would stop to offer me a ride. If I felt safe or tired enough I'd go along for as far as they'd take me. Usually it was only to the nearest town, but the distance is better than nothing at all. I can't be greedy when all I have to my name is a couple changes of clothes, a plastic bottle and a few bits and pieces.

Watching as the car drove passed, I sighed as it disappeared further ahead. I never blame them if they pass me by. It's not their fault that I am where I am. Taking a look around, I stretched my aching legs and muscles. There's large open paddocks on either side of the road with small hills in the distance. Every time I breathe and after the icy burn as gone, I can immediately smell the distinct scent of grass, dirt and cow manure.

The dream life.

Raising my arms above my head, my fingers flexed as I stared up at the night sky. The stars are bright now that I'm far away from the city. It's like dark sea of glittering diamonds, so clear and special. It makes me smile every time, but eventually I have to look down and I hate what I see – emptiness. A vast wasteland filled with filthy people both rick and poor, or nothing at all.

It's time to get moving.

Ignoring the aching protest in my feet and lower back, the longer I walk the more the pain begins to numb. Humming a few tunes, I don't know all of the lyrics to the songs but the sound it enough to keep me going. Its better the annoying buzz of crickets or the stagnate sound of silence. Swatting away a hovering bug, I sighed deeply before I heard the sound of another vehicle.

This one is louder and deeper, the rumble of the engine tells me it's a truck. Glancing over my shoulder, it reminded me of that typical moment before death. A bright light in a place of darkness. That's exactly what the truck looks like with its black paint and beaming headlights. Sticking out my hand, I didn't stop this time but instead kept walking.

The truck passed me by and I dropped my arm thinking they'd left me behind. But as a squeal of tires and brakes echoed out in front of me, I saw the truck pulling off to the right with a glow of its red lights. A wave of relief washed over me when I realised I might get a lift to the next town. Picking up my pace, I rushed toward the vehicle before stepping up the side steps to peer into the passenger window. The interior looks cozzie and clean with black leather seats and the familiar tang of air freshener.

My eyes landed on the man driving and saw him to be in his late twenties or early thirties. I admit he's rather young compared to the usual old men and their white beards and beer bellies. Instead this one has short brown stubble and steel grey eyes. Despite the added layers of a thick jacket and brown cap, I can see he's relatively built for a truck driver. Most in the long and boring profession seem to let themselves go.

Still hovering out in the cold, the man hadn't spoken a word and instead he kept looking at me with a critical and apprehensive eye. The knot of anxiety began to build in my stomach and I'm wondering if maybe it would be better if I just kept walking. But before I could utter the first word, he'd beaten me too it with a rough and masculine voice. The type that sends chills down your spine.

"Are you getting in or are you going to hold onto the door the whole way?"

It took me a moment to come up with a response "Yes" I nodded before shoving my duffle bag through the window to land on the floor. Shifting to the side and getting it, the heavy door closed with a thud. My hands stayed on my lap as I stared through the windscreen. I can see him still looking at me through the corner of my vision. It makes me uncomfortable "Is something wrong?"

"Your seat belt"

"Oh" I quickly clutched the buckle and clipped it into place. Turning off the roof light, we'd been placed into almost darkness beside the glow of the dashboard.

Cruising down the road, there was no radio to drown out the silence and by the cold temperature he hadn't turned on the heater. I found it rather strange as it's freezing outside, but never the less I didn't ask him to change it. Almost suddenly, I developed this childish fear of making any sort of noise in case it might disturb him. I can feel my palms sweating.

"How far do you need to go?" he asked.

"As far as you'll take me"

I can feel the vibration of the engine rumbling through the seat and door frame "Are you running away?"

It was an odd question. My brow creased as I glanced over to him. The lighting does nothing to aid the fact that he looks daunting. He has this certain sense of trouble and stiffness. The way he conducts himself and speaks, it's all straight to the point. Sitting upright with both hands planted firmly on the steering wheel, his eyes never stray from the road.

"Why do you ask?"

"It was only a question" he replied "You don't have to answer"

I looked back out through the windscreen. I suppose there isn't much harm in telling a stranger. We most likely won't ever see each other again "I'm running away" I confirmed.

"From who?"

"My past" I replied "I didn't have a good upbringing and I didn't want to stay there anymore, so I left"

It shocked me a little when he asked me his next question, with a tone neither here nor there. It didn't sound very sympathetic or sincere "Did he hit you?"

I blinked "What makes you think that?"

"Am I wrong?"

"I don't really want to say" I replied with a pause. It wasn't a very good answer, but I neither wanted to admit or deny the fact. Twiddling my thumbs around, the paddocks of grass and cattle zoomed by the window before I glanced at the man "Why did you stop for me?"

I didn't think the man had heard me despite the silence. It took him a while to answer "Because you're a girl" he said, to which one of my brows raised "It isn't safe"

I angled my body to lean against the door so I can look at him properly "What makes you think I feel safe in her with you, a stranger?"

"I never said you did. But you must feel better in here than you down out there, otherwise you wouldn't be here with me, a stranger" he retorted.

I slouched in my seat. There's nothing I can throw back and I've run out of things to say. He doesn't seem as if he's going to start a conversation either. My eyes began to flutter and I fell asleep to the rumble of the truck. Like most nights now, I rarely ever dream of anything in particular; it's mostly a few blank seconds and then I'm awake for another day.

I find that the good dreams are a rarity, and when I get them I never want it to stop. I remember fragments of one in particular. I was living the American Dream; green grass, a white picket fence and freshly squeezed lemonade by the pool. I could feel, taste and hear everything. It felt incredibly real until I woke up.

Twitching, I was still in the arms of gentle sleep when I felt a sting on my thigh as if something had bitten me. Jolting awake, I glanced around a little lost in the moment until I saw the familiar face of the stranger sitting in the driver's seat beside me. His grey eyes stared at me and all the memories came rushing back. My heart beat calmed when I realised I'm not in any immediate danger.

I rubbed my eyes "Did you pinch me?" I questioned accusingly.

"You're a heavy sleeper" he replied "And I'm not leaving you here in my truck, so get up"

Stretching my arms out and cracking my knuckles, I sat up in my seat to feel the soreness of my lower back and neck. Sleeping in such a strange and contorted position did nothing to help the ache all over my body, but with a little more movement I climbed out of the truck to stand by the stranger.

"Where are we?" I asked. It's early morning and the sun has only just come out. It's still quite chilly and the wet fog had yet to clear. Breathing in the crisp air, I can smell petrol and cooked food coming from the building.

"A gas station" he replied while taking a puff of his cigarette. The smoke escaped from his mouth and nose to fade into the air.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked with a gesture "Not that I'm concerned for your health, but we are at a gas station – flammable" I added. The man peered down at me in response before taking another drag of his cigarette and then breathing out.

I guess not.

"You can come inside, or not" he said while starting to walk away "It doesn't bother me either way"

I looked him up and down from behind. He's just how he was last night, only now I can see that he's wearing faded blue jeans and boots. He inhabits the typical manly walk and now that were not in the truck and its day light, I can admire his height and well-kept figure. My throughs side tracked for a moment, as any usual females would. I wondered what he'd look like underneath all those layers.

Clearing my throat, I realised he was almost by the door and I quickly hurried to catch up to him. Entering inside, I came to realise the gas station also has a small diner area off to the right side with booths and stools at the counter. My mouth instantly watered at the smell of breakfast food. Following him to a vacant booth we sat down opposite of each other.

Picking up a menu, I sifted through the option until I found one that I liked. An older woman in her mid-forties came to our table with a jug of fresh coffee. With her pale brown hair in a tight bun and her thin lips painted a cherry red, she smiled at us "Coffee?" she asked with a gesture of the jug.

"Please" he said. Pouring into his cup, she offered me and I shook my head.

"No, thank you. Do you have milk though?"

"Sure, I'll get you a glass" she smiled "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah, I'll have the waffles and syrup" I replied.

"I'll get the breakfast" he then added.

"Sure thing" walking off with her coffee jug, I heard clatter coming from the kitchen as the chef started preparing our meals. Sitting back in my seat I took a quick glance around and saw that were the only ones in here.

"Do you plan on paying, or are you going to duck and run?" he asked suddenly. Sitting a little forward, his hands are clasped in front of him. I admit, I feel offended by the accusation.

"I might be homeless, but I'm not a thief" pulling out a twenty dollar bill from my back pocket, I waved it in reassurance.

"Where did you get it?"

"Where do you think? A job" I replied.

"A job?" he spoke as if it were hard to believe "What kind of job?"

"A normal one" I replied with a defensive tone "I'm not a criminal or anything else you might think I am. I would never do that stuff"

"Never say never. Desperate people do desperate things" he leant back in his chair as the waitress came back with my glass of milk.

"Here you go" she said with a smile "Meals won't be long"

Leaving us alone, I took a sip of the white and creamy beverage. It feels nice on my throat and it's super cold, just how I like it "Why milk?" he asked.

"Why coffee?" I retorted before eventually sighing "It's a childhood thing. My mother used to bring me a glass every night before I went to bed. I drank it when I was sad, when I was sick and when I felt like it. It makes me feel comforted. And besides, it's good for your bones"

Continuing to sip on the milk, we waited for our meals to finish cooking. Coming over to our table the waitress sat down our meals and left before we started eating. Drizzling my waffles with golden syrup, my mouth salivated and my stomach growled as I took the first bite. Shovelling a forkful into my mouth, I hummed at the taste and texture; sweet and hot.

Enjoying one of the few decent meals in a while, I looked up at the stranger every now and then. Neither one of us spoke, however, my eyes managed to catch a glimpse of something interesting. I never would have thought about it unless I saw the distinct tan mark on his left hand, where a wedding ring used to be. My stomach churned at the thought and I stopped eating.

I wonder why he would take it off and if it was because of me. Could he be divorced or does he not like wearing it? So many questions coursed through my mind before I finally gave in to my curiosity "Are you married?" I gestured to his hand with a nod of my head. Holding his cutlery, the stranger paused before looking down at the tan mark on his finger.

"I was" he replied "Not anymore"

I feel relieved, but then again, I don't know if he's lying. I only met the man a couple of hours ago. Looking back down at my food, I ate a few small bites here and there. My appetite had shrunk. Running my tongue along my teeth, I took another sip of my milk before leaning back in my seat.

"How come?" I asked, although my voice sounded like a little mouse. A squeak. I'm afraid of asking a stranger personal questions, but he did do the same to me when we first met.

"How come what?"

"How come you're not together anymore?" I restated with a bit more confidence "I always thought marriage was supposed to be forever" the whole thought of divorce dampened the happily ever after dream that every girl tries to cling to.

"An important lesson in life, nothing's forever. Nothing permanent" he said "And pretending doesn't count. If you know it's not going to work then stop trying and go a different direction. We wanted different things from each other, so I bit the bullet and did what I had to do" he picked up his coffee mug.

Opening my mouth I was going to ask him what it was. What the different thing is, but I decided against it. I figured it's too personal and I'm almost positive that he's not going to tell me anyway. It's none of my business what happened in his past and I don't want to push my luck with someone I don't know in the middle of nowhere.