I don’t have nearly enough to feel comfortable moving on and finding another town and job yet. Add to that I practically need to bribe Ms. Sullivan to eat and take her meds …
“We’ll figure it out,” Noah says.
“Can’t you just put a universal fuel pump in or something?”
Tommy lets out a gut rumbling laugh. “Where did you find this girl at, Noah. She seems a bit feisty for you to handle. Me on the other hand …”
I roll my eyes. It’s clear he’s joking by his playful tone and expression, but Noah’s face goes predatorily still and the muscles in his jaw twitch as he clenches it.
“Listen. Replacement fuel pumps aren’t universal. They have different pressure requirements, electrical compatibility, flow rate.”
Honestly, I stop listening after “flow rate” and turn to scowl at a pristine white Lexus up on the lift. Ugh. Pretty sure an old Ford Taurus is low on their list at this point.
Dust motes dance in the light filtering through the windows in the garage, and as they float down my breaths become heavy.Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
What am I going to do? I need to get to work. If I can’t get to work, I can’t make money, and if I can’t make money, well, hell. How am I supposed to pay for my ultra-specific fuel pump?
“Tommy. How about you work up an estimate for her and take down her number. Call us as soon as the part is in and installed.”
“For sure. Anything for you, man.” Tommy waddles off past Noah, and it’s only then I notice how short he actually is.
I spin around in a circle, looking at the gross shop filled with luxury cars surprisingly clean and being worked on with care. This shop, I’ve decided, is a contradiction.
“I can take you to work, Lily.” Noah’s hand engulfs my elbow, and he guides me toward him. “It’s no problem.”
“You have your own job,” I spit back.
He shakes his head. “I’ve got vacation time and plenty of it.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t.”
I stare at him. No. He can’t take off work at his important job to take me to my loser one. I’m not even sure about my schedule or hours. He can’t. Why would he even want to?
“No.”
“Oh, come on. Max could use the break.” Noah smiles, and gosh does it consume me.
He runs a hand over his buzzed head and gestures to Max on the garage floor chewing on a rawhide. It’s amazing how puppy-like he looks when sprawled out, back legs frogged out to the side while he goes to town on his treat, versus the working dog that jumps into action as soon as the commands are out of Noah’s mouth.
“Here ya go.” Tommy appears in my line of sight and shoves a piece of paper in my hands.
When I look down, the floor almost drops out from under me. A thousand dollars? For a fuel pump? Granted, I have zero clue what a fuel pump actually does, but there’s something about seeing the fuel pump part cost as a hundred dollars and then the rest of the bill for the labor that makes me sick.
Seeing my reaction, Noah snatches the paper from my grasp, and I fumble around the waistband of my leggings for my stashed vape pen. I yank it free. It’s been a hot minute—I’m for sure as hell not going to vape anywhere near Ms. Sullivan—but as I stare at it, then to Noah who’s painstakingly examiningthe shop bill, something aches in my chest and keeps me from putting it to my lips.
Noah shakes his head as he reads the final line item, which at this point, I’m surprised doesn’t have me paying for someone to wipe Tommy’s ass. “Hey, what if I came in and gave you a hand with the installation. Think you could knock a few hundred off the price?”
Tommy snorts, and I debate whether to flat-out refuse or if I’m desperate enough at this point for any monetary relief.
“Ahh, all right, man. I’ll give ya a call when the part comes in, and we can tackle this one together. Like old times. Just make sure you bring the beer.”
Beer while they work on my car. Great.
Yet, Noah seems thrilled, and he shoots me a grin before tucking the estimate into his back pocket. “Sounds great. Well, we better be off, tell your mom I say hi,” Noah says, before throwing over his shoulder, “Max.Hier.”
Max immediately trots over, soggy bone in hand. It’s limp and wet, and I grimace when he drops it at my feet.
