Chapter 111 The food truck
Timothy
The car changes direction.
I feel it before I consciously register it, the subtle shift as the driver takes a turn that leads us away from the familiar route home.
I don’t say anything.
Just lean back in my seat and let it happen.
A moment later, soft music fills the car. Something low and instrumental, barely there, but enough to fill the silence that had settled between us earlier.
Hannah is on her phone now.
Scrolling.
Typing.
Fiddling with something.
I glance at her briefly, then look away again.
Out the window.
The city moves past in a blur of lights and motion, but I’m not really seeing any of it.
My mind is still elsewhere.
Back at the house.
At the table.
At the look on her face before she walked out.
My jaw tightens slightly.
I exhale through my nose and shift in my seat, resting my elbow against the armrest.
Think.
But not about that.
About something else.
Anything else.
Work. The file my father handed me. The names. The inconsistencies. The timing.
My fingers start tapping lightly against my knee.
A steady rhythm.
Unconscious.
My thoughts spiral deeper into it;connections, possibilities, patterns that don’t quite make sense yet but feel like they should.
Something is there.
Something just out of reach.
I focus on that instead.
Let it take over.
Let it drown out everything else.
Time passes.
I don’t know how long.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Maybe more.
Then…
“Hm…wait, wait.”
Hannah’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
I blink.
She leans forward suddenly, peering through the windshield.
“Stop here,” she tells the driver quickly. “This is it.”
The car slows. Then stops.
I straighten slightly, looking around.
We’re on a street lined with food trucks.
Bright lights. Colorful signs.
A few scattered tables and chairs set up along the pavement.
Not crowded. But not empty either.
Casual. Relaxed.
The complete opposite of where we just came from.
I stare at it for a second.
Then at her.
“This is your place?”
She grins slightly.
“Don’t judge yet.”
I huff under my breath.
Before I can say anything else, one of the guards steps closer to the car.
“Sir,” he says quietly. “You should put these on.”
He hands me a pair of shades and a hoodie.
I stare at them.
Then at him.
“You’re joking.”
“For discretion,” he says simply.
I exhale.
Of course.
Right.
Because I can’t exactly walk around freely without drawing attention.
Still, I take them. Begrudgingly.
Pull the hoodie over my head, slide the shades on, and adjust them slightly.
“This better be worth it,” I mutter.
Hannah snorts softly.
“Oh, it is.”
We step out of the car.
The air hits me immediately, very cool, carrying the scent of grilled meat, spices, something fried and indulgent.
It’s… strong.
I wrinkle my nose slightly.
Hannah doesn’t hesitate.
She moves like she knows exactly where she’s going, weaving through the small crowd with ease.
I follow.
The guards trail behind us.
She stops in front of one particular truck.
It’s brighter than the others.
Livelier.
The menu board is packed with options—burgers, tacos, fries, things dripping with sauces and toppings.
Before I can take it all in properly…
“Hannah!”
The owner’s voice rings out.
An older man steps forward from the truck, wiping his hands on a cloth, his face lighting up when he sees her.
“You’ve been gone for a while!” he says, smiling widely.
Hannah laughs.
“I know, I know.”
He gestures toward her.
“Where’s your friend? Sienna, right?”
“She’s fine,” Hannah says. “Probably somewhere causing trouble.”
He laughs.
“Sounds like her.”
I watch the exchange quietly.
Familiar. Easy. Like she belongs here. Like this place is hers in a way the estate never could be.
“What are you having today?” he asks.
Hannah turns to me.
“Go on,” she says. “Pick something.”
I step closer to the menu, scanning it.
My expression doesn’t change.
But internally, I scowl and glare.
“This all looks… greasy,” I say under my breath. “And unhealthy.”
Hannah leans closer. “And delicious,” she counters.
I glance at her.
She’s smiling.
Teasing.
“You’re judging it already,” she adds.
“I’m assessing it.”
“You’re being a snob.”
“I’m being realistic.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Live a little, Timothy.”
I sigh.
Then look back at the menu.
“Fine,” I say. “But if this is terrible…”
“It won’t be.”
“You’re very confident.”
“I am.”
I shake my head slightly.
Then place my order.
Something simple.
Or at least, what passes for simple here.
Hannah orders next.
Much more enthusiastically.
Of course.
We step aside after, waiting for the food.
She leads us to one of the tables nearby.
I sit.
The chair is slightly uneven.
The table is… not exactly pristine.
This is very far from my usual environment.
Hannah, on the other hand, looks completely at ease.
She stretches slightly in her seat, glancing around like she’s enjoying herself already.
Then she looks past me.
“At least get something,” she calls out.
I turn slightly.
She’s talking to the guards.
Ace immediately shakes his head.
“No, ma’am.”
“Yes,” Hannah insists.
“We’re fine.”
“You’ve been standing all day,” she says. “Go eat.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It is to me,” she replies firmly.
There’s a pause.
A brief standoff.
Then Ace sighs.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The others follow his lead, though clearly reluctant.
Hannah beams slightly.
“Good.”
She turns back to me.
I raise an eyebrow.
“You just ordered my security detail to eat.”
“They’re human,” she says simply. “They should act like it sometimes.”
I don’t argue.
Instead, I lean back slightly in my chair, watching her.
There’s something different about her here.
Lighter.
More herself.
And I realize…
This is her world.
Not the polished halls of my parents’ house.
Not the rigid expectations.
This. Messy. Casual. Unfiltered.
I glance around again.
At the lights. The food. The people.
Then back at her.