They say things get harder before they get easier and ain't that the mother fucking truth.

A week out of prison and I'm still trying to reconcile the man I was with the man I am now. I hardly remember what it means to stand under a sky full of stars and look to the heavens and take in a deep breath of air.

For five years, I sat behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit; my prison cell containing the parts of me I wanted to leave behind but couldn't. It was like I was carrying a ghost with me the entire stint, but now?

Now, I'm a free man.

I walked through the prison gate and didn't look back. Got my old Scout International from the garage of a guy I used to know--Stan. I could trust him because he wasn't the one who framed me. Tommy is.

When I got my truck, Stan said word was Tommy had been looking for me; wanted to kill me before I could get to him. Guess Tommy thinks I’m pissed at him for what he did.

But being in prison didn’t make me angry. It just put things in fucking perspective. I want a life that means something, and murdering Tommy won’t get me what I want. Not even close.

Still, Stan said I oughta get the hell out of town to avoid that crazy fucker. I have no intention of getting blood on my hands. Not now. Not ever. So I started driving.

I had no destination in mind, I just knew I needed to get out of Boise. Although we're in Idaho--and the cities here aren't like they are in some shit show like NYC or LA--it's still more than a country boy like me wants. I grew up in the mountains, and the mountains are where I need to be now.

Hell, I've been dreaming of starting my life over in a quiet place. Maybe build myself a house with my own two hands and live a life I can be fucking proud of. I'm not interested in some big and overly ambitious life. My deepest desire is to live a life with someone who will always have my back, through thick and thin. Someone who won't walk away when things get hard. A woman I can protect and take care of. The last thing I want is to head back to a city where people have forgotten what it means to be a real man.

Who knows? Maybe I'll find her one of these days. But God knows, I won't settle for less.

I have two hands and an able body. I know I'll find work sooner or later. For now, I'm gonna keep driving until there's something worth stopping for. Sleeping in the bed of my truck with the moon overhead at night suits me just fine. And as I drive with the windows down, the cool air covers me with the distinct peace that comes with not being chained down by any man.

I stop on the side of the highway and help a couple with a flat tire. When I tell the older woman that I’m starved, she tells me there’s a little diner thirty miles east and it has the best service she’s seen in decades.

Taking her advice, I drive the way she suggested and stop at the little diner.

Sliding into a corner booth, I exhale slowly for the first time in days, as I look out the big window. This sleepy mountain vista is the kind of place I picture myself settling down in.

A woman with a nametag reading Rosie, hands over a menu and offers me a bright smile. A smile that puts me at ease and tells me I came to the right place.

"Morning, darling. Coffee?"

"Sure thing," I tell her as she pours me a steaming mug from a carafe. My eyes widen as a waitress comes through the front doors, tying an apron around her waist. The whole room seems to brighten as she walks in. Her blond ponytail seems to bounce as she walks and she wears a green blouse. She looks like a sunflower; her face turns toward the sun.

Sweet Lord, this is the woman of my goddamn dreams.

She greets the other patrons as she passes them, and Rosie gives her a little wave before turning back to me.

"Josie will help you with your order. She's taking over for me, okay?"

"No problem." I bring the mug to my lips and take a drink. The coffee is good, rich and dark, and once again I thank my lucky stars that I got out of the slammer for good behavior. I've always worked hard and kept my head down, but the fact I was wrongfully imprisoned could have put a chip on my shoulder.

Still, I knew there were two choices when I was behind bars. Get my shit together or get shit on. I knew where I wanted to end up.

And as this sweet-as-sugar waitress walks toward me with an order pad in hand, I thank God I kept my chin up. Getting out early means I'm sitting here right now, with a view like this.

I wouldn't trade this seat for another anywhere in the goddamn world.

"What are you smiling about?" she asks, her voice gentle and warm as she holds a pen over her pad to take my order. She looks down at me, and then she falters for a second. I see it in her eyes. It's like she's looking at me for the first time and realizing I'm not what she expected.

And that she likes what she sees.

Hell, her face is flushed, and she licks her lip, totally unaware of her actions and what they are doing to my cock, luckily hidden under the table.

I don't know much about her except her name, but I know she likes what she sees. Maybe I'm just hyper-aware, having been away from women for so long, but it's like she can sense what I’m feeling and yearning for just by looking at me.

As if she knows how badly I'm longing for a woman to wrap her arms around me and hold me tightly. How badly I'm craving a woman's gentle touch, her warm skin next to mine, her feminine beauty etching new memories in my heart.

And so, when she asks what I'm smiling about, I have no problem telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So, help me, God.

"I'm smiling because I'm sitting here looking at you."

She shakes her head, grinning despite her best effort to suppress the grin.

The guys a few booths over seem to have heard my words. A tall guy with tattoos covering his forearms turns and looks at me.

I look back at the waitress, and right under the logo for Rosie's Diner is her name tag which reads Josie. I smile at that. There's both a Rosie and a Josie working here.

"You flirting with my girl?" the man asks.

Josie scoffs, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a piece of her mind. "I am not your girl, Jonah. I think I've made that crystal clear by now."

The guy next to Jonah jabs him with his elbow. "Cut it out. Let Josie have some fun."

The guy, Jonah, scoffs. "I know, I'm just giving her a hard time. I can do that, I'm her best friend."

I watch the dynamics between these people. The group of five men in their flannel shirts, all with thick beards, clearly a group of hard-working guys. And I'm just trying to figure out how Josie fits into the group.

She looks down at me. "Don't worry about him. Jonah is my best friend and gets territorial."

I lean closer and the soft lavender perfume she wears makes me dizzy. I knew I wanted to find a real woman after I left the slammer. However, I didn't expect to find her so damn fast.

"Oh yeah? Is he my competition?" I ask with a smirk. I'm not going to beat around the bush here. I want her.

"Not at all. We tried that. But we're staying in the friend zone."

The guys at the table break out in laughter over this, Jonah shaking his head in a fake scowl. It's clear he agrees with this, though. From what I can tell, Josie has a lot of men in her corner, and I'm glad for that. A woman as gorgeous as her needs people around who have her back.

"Girl," he says to Josie. "You gotta stop busting my balls. I got a reputation to uphold."

She snickers. "Your reputation was trashed long before me."

I appreciate that she's laying this all out for me from the get-go. She's making it clear that she is on the market. As in not taken.

"Look," I say to Jonah. "I wasn't doing anything but making conversation."

Josie pipes up. "Well, then that's a crying shame."

The guys bust up laughing again and I grin. This woman is letting me know exactly where she stands.

"So, what can I get you, stranger?" she asks, straightening her shoulders and doing her best to look professional. "I've got a Josie Special or a to-die-for stack of flapjacks."

"I'll take your special."

"Do you wanna know about the special?" she asks.

"If it's got your name on it, I'm guessing it's good."

She doesn’t miss a beat. Licking her lips, she slowly says, "It's delicious."

"Good. Because like I said, that's what I want."

"You know what you want before you even know what it is?" She taps her pen on the pad, and I look her up and down. Narrow waist, curvy hips, a pair of tits that could make even the toughest man weak in the knees and hard in the fucking groin.

Five years is a long ass time to not have a woman. And she's not just a woman. She is something else entirely.

Mine.

"No doubt about it."

And that's the truth.

"Damn, you're laying it on thick," Jonah says whistling low.

One of the other men raises his eyebrows. "Josie deserves a man who will walk in here and tell her how it is. I like this guy already."

I run a hand over my beard, appreciating these men and how they really care about this woman, and not in some demeaning way, but in a kind of ‘we're-looking-out-for-her’ way.

The other waitress, Rosie, walks out of the back room with a purse over her shoulder. "Hey Buck, I'm headed out. But don't forget to pick up the prescription for the boys at the pharmacy before you come home tonight. They still have a cough. Okay, baby?" She leans over and kisses one of the men in the booth. He looks at her with devotion as he tells her he won't forget. Josie fixes her gaze on them too, sighing a little as the husband and wife pull apart.

I'm not quite sure who these people are, and what town I ended up in. It seems like some sort of alternative reality--but they all seem like good people. Salt of the earth.

Josie turns back to me. "So, you want the special then?"

I nod. That's exactly what I want.