While I waited for her reply, hoping she’d reply, I paced back and forth.
“Keep that up and you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”
“Shit, Dylan!” I swore, grabbing at my chest where my heart was pounding. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I figured. How long have you been pacing and talking to yourself? Tell me, you haven’t been like this all day?” he chuckled but he wasn’t really laughing. There was worry in his question.
“Not long. At least, I don’t think it’s been long.”
I checked my phone again but it remained silent.
“What’s happened?” Dylan asked.
“Happened?”
“The last couple of days you’ve seemed almost calm, but now you’re prowling around like a caged tiger.”
Dylan was giving me the in I’d been looking for. I needed to talk this through with someone who understood how I was thinking. I would’ve tried with Dickson, but I was pretty sure he was sick of listening to me.
“Can I run something by you?” I asked, running my hand through my hair.
“This sounds like it’s going to need a beer or two,” Dylan replied.
“Or whisky.”
“Shit! That’s serious. Can you give me five to get cleaned up?” Dylan asked and I nodded as he scurried down the hall, disappearing into his bedroom.
I checked my phone again, cursing at its silence.
I stepped outside and straight onto a piece of broken mug, cutting my foot.. “Fuck!” I swore, as I dropped down onto the chair and wiped away the blood seeping out, before checking it for any broken shards. Once it was cleaned, I picked up the rest of the smashed mug, setting it down on the table.
Dylan emerged and handed me a beer before we headed over to his oversized shed.
Throwing open the roller door, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Dylan was a mechanic by trade, and stashed out the back, he had a pet project he’d been working on for as long as I could remember. Last time I’d been here, the car was missing a motor, doors, and it was in pieces scattered all over his shed. Now though, it was painted, a weird blue color that I really liked and it looked like most pieces were back where they should be.
“Looks good,” I told him, walking around the car, checking it out.
“It’s almost there.”
“Does it start?” I asked.
“Does it start?” he repeated, scoffing at my question.
A moment later, Dylan slid behind the wheel and with a wide smirk on his face, fired it up, the engine roaring to life. It purred like it should. It was a beautiful car and I couldn’t wait to take it for a spin.
“Sounds good,” I told him while Dylan puffed his chest out like a proud peacock .
Tossing the keys back in a drawer under his work bench, Dylan turned to me, all traces of fun gone and straightening his spine. He screamed military. Straight back, neutral expression, it was like he was preparing for a briefing that required all his attention.
“Right… now tell me what’s going on.”
For the next half hour, I stalked around his workshop in circles, unable to stay still as I told him everything I knew, some I probably shouldn’t have.
Once I’d shared everything on my mind, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Even if Dylan couldn’t fix it, just telling him, just sharing it with someone who wouldn’t judge, made it feel like a lighter load to carry.
“What’s that look for?” I asked, noticing the weird look on his face as he drained the last of his beer.
“I don't know. There’s something missing. Something’s not adding up here.”
