Page 62 of Rescuing Mary

Looking at his watch, he saw it was almost eight in the morning. Fletch said he’d be over in the afternoon, so he had plenty of time to take a nap before Fletch arrived with his daughter.

Truck knew taking the pill would knock him out completely. He’d be dead to the world for at least five hours. Good.

Suspecting he was slipping into a depression, Truck swallowed the pill dry. The faster he got some sleep and escaped the constant throbbing of his head, the better.

“Easy, squirt.”

Truck frowned at the voice in his head.

Then he felt something touch his face. The scarred side.

Jerking his head back, he then felt a weight settle on his belly. His eyes popped open—and he stared up into a pair of blue eyes.

A little girl was straddling his stomach. Her dirty-blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and long enough to brush his chest as she leaned over him. She had on a scruffy pair of jeans and a T-shirt with a silhouette of a military tank on it. One of her small hands was on his face, over his scar, and she looked completely serious as she gazed down at him.

“Hi, Truck. I’m Annie.”

“Hi,” Truck croaked out, feeling emotional for no reason he could think of.

“Sorry, man,” Fletch said from above him. “I knocked but you didn’t answer. I used my key—one you gave me, by the way—to come in. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“It’s okay,” Truck said, still looking up at Annie.

“Do you ’member me?” Annie asked.

Pressing his lips together, he felt awful that he had to tell this little angel no. “I’m sorry…but no.”

“I’m Annie Elizabeth Grant Fletcher. I’m eight. I have a boyfriend named Frankie. He’s deaf and lives in California. I talk to him with my hands over the Internet. He’s teaching me how. Daddy Fletch gave me some Army men the first time I met him. I don’t like wearing dresses, I prefer pants. Mommy and me moved in with Daddy Fletch when she got sick, and then the bad guys stolded us, but you and Daddy came and got us. ’Member now?”

God, this girl was precious. How could he have ever assumed she’d be annoying? Truck felt guilty even though he hadn’t met Annie yet when he’d thought that.

The hand on his cheek didn’t waver. She kept eye contact with him the entire time she was talking. She had what Truck would have to say was an “old soul.” The weird feeling of déjà vu came back with a vengeance. He knew this little girl, but he didn’t. It was a frustrating and weird feeling.

“Sorry, Annie. I don’t. But you know what?”

“What?”

“Just because I don’t remember you, doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.”

“Of course you like me,” Annie said with conviction. “I’m likable. Everyone says so.”

Truck heard Fletch chuckling. He looked up at his friend and saw him standing next to the couch. He looked both relieved and worried at the same time.

“How about you let Truck sit up, squirt.”

Instead of climbing off him, Annie lowered herself onto Truck’s chest. She lay her head on his shoulder and kept her hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Truck.”

“Me too.”

“Are you scared?”

Truck swallowed and put his hand on her back, holding her to him as he sat up. Annie clung to him like an octopus, not moving even an inch away.

“I’ll get us all something to drink,” Fletch said, giving him some privacy with his daughter, now that he knew she was in good hands.

“A little,” Truck told the girl honestly.

She nodded against him. “I think it’d be scary not to ’member things. But we’ll take care of you.”