“What about her?” I demanded.
“Seeing her again can’t be easy. I know you still love her…just don’t try and drown those feelings, alright?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I growled, pushing off the side of my truck and stomping over to the driver’s side.
It pissed me off that my brother had no faith in me. It was like the last several years were for nothing. I pulled open the old door, but Brock’s hand on my arm stopped me. The guy was still two times bigger than me, even after all the effort I’d put in at the college gym.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that, Braden,” he told me, his gray eyes deep with sincerity. “I’m going to worry about you, you’re my little brother. I want to see you succeed. I don’t want you to torment yourself with the past. That’s the fastest way to fall right back again.”
“I know,” I responded, forcing myself to relax. “Don’t worry about me though, I’ve got this.”
* * *
The next morning, I drove into town and pulled into the almost empty parking lot of Chuck'sGarage. Everything seemed the same as it had the day I left. The sign above the garage was maybe the biggest indicator that time had passed. The once-bright red paint had chipped away to a faded rust colour.
I parked my truck, letting the memories of this place wash over me like rain. Once upon time, Chuck had been the only person in town willing to take a chance on the youngest son of the town drunk. My reputation for trouble and chaos was a well told story around these parts, but he'd seen something in me.
I was fifteen years old, and I needed a job. Bad. Debt collectors were knocking on our door every single day, and Mom was only making enough to cover our basic needs. Becky had just gone through a traumatizing time, Brock was in jail and our family was still trying to pick up the pieces. I figured if I got a job, I could help minimize some of the stress.
I'd always loved working on cars with my grandpa, and I had a natural inclination to do so. Hell, I'd done most of the labor under the careful instruction of Grandpa. I could understand the mechanics of an engine, how everything worked, with far more ease than I could understand anything academic.
Chuck's seemed like the natural choice—especially after every other place in town turned me away the moment I walked in with my resume. Chuck was the only person who didn't tell me they weren't hiring the moment I walked in.
He stared at me for several long minutes after I'd stomped into the garage and told him I wanted a job. “Why should I hire you, boy?” he asked, the amusement dancing behind his tired brown eyes.
“Because I know my way around an engine. I restored a 1969 Dodge Charger with my Grandpa when I was seven.” I told him confidently. Chuck's busy eyebrows rose, impressed. “I'm a hard worker, and you could use some help around the shop from the looks of it,” I added. I didn't need to look in the direction of the disorganized tools and mess of parts to know this much was true.
He continued to stare at me for several long beats before sighing. “Tell you what kid,” he said gruffly, scratching at his chin with grease covered hands. “If you can figure out the problem with that Caravan, and fix it yourself...I'll give you a job.”
“Is that supposed to be a challenge?” I'd asked as I rolled up my sleeves.
Three hours later, I had the Caravan fixed and a job.
I shook my head, trying to clear the memories away and get on with the task at hand: seeing if Chuck would give me my job back. I slammed the truck door behind me, heading straight inside the open garage.
At first glance, it was empty except for a Subaru Forester in the bay and a mess of parts and tools all over the place. Chuck had never been the organized type. I breathed in deeply, the smell of grease and oil and metal working to ease my nerves. I'd spent a lot of time here, found a purpose here.
“You're back,” Chuck's raspy voice came from behind me—the office. I turned around, my hands still in my jean pockets. He looked exhausted and older than his 55 years. His skin had a slight grey tinge to it, and he'd lost weight. Chuck's outward appearance concerned me; working too hard for too long had taken its toll on him, and guilt over my departure nagged at me. But Chuck would sooner kick my ass than talk about his health, so I pushed my concerns aside.
“Hey, Chuck,” I said, the right corner of my lips lifting up. “Need any help around here?”
“You can get started on the Subaru. Transmission's shot.”
Elle
Seeing him again had drudged up everything—and I meaneverything. The way he’d looked at me from across the table, his blue eyes practically burning with intensity—as if he wanted to devour me. My old reactions were still the same—the jump in my heart rate, the flutters in my lower abdomen. I’d wanted him to act on the desire rolling off him in waves.
I felt utterly stripped bare in his presence, like he could read every thrum of my heartbeat. And the traitorous way my body responded to his presence didn’t help, it was as if it had forgotten how completely he’d devastated me. It was the most peculiar thing; even though he’d shattered my heart, it still sped up in his presence…it stillcravedhim. I could so easily fall back into that old habit; into him.
Mom and I left the moment dinner was over. I couldn’t put myself through sitting there any longer. My heart was twisting and my blood was on fire in my veins. I wanted to cry and scream and rage at him—and that wasn’t my style. Not anymore, I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me hurt over him.
A lone tear trailed down my face, and I wiped it away furiously. When it all happened, when he’d broken my heart in front of an entire room full of people, I honestly hadn’t thought it was over. I couldn’t believe it—our love was supposed to be forever. How else could one explain the fireworks between us? But he didn’t come after me. He never tried to call or even text. He just disappeared, he let me leave for college without so much as a goodbye—like I’d never mattered at all.
I believed it. I believed that I hadn’t mattered to him. It was easy to, with the hostile look in his eyes when he’d nailed the coffin shut on our relationship.
But now…I didn’t know what to think. Sparks still flew between us, the fire in the pit of my stomach still burned for him, and the way he looked at me made me feel…
Well, it made me feel things. It made me feel alive.
