TorqueMeTender: WHEN IS THE NEXT EPISODE WITH GRUMPY HOT MECHANIC?????
George sees it over my shoulder and cackles. “She’s building your fan base. Better start practicing autographs.”
I pocket my phone with a growl. “I’m not a character in her videos.”
“You kind of are,” she singsongs.
“I’m just fixing her car,” I snap. “Not her life.”
George studies me. “Some people come into our garage needing more than repairs, Nolan. Doesn’t mean you have to run from them.”
I go still.
She’s too perceptive, too patient. She means well. She always does. But she’s wrong about Sally needing fixing. That woman isn’t broken. She’s bright. Determined. Whole.
She just needs someone to help her believe in her own strength. It terrifies me how much I want to be that someone.
George sighs. “And you’re not doing yourself any favors by running yourself into the ground.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Thanks for the pep talk, Coach.”
“I’m serious.” She jerks her chin toward the cot. “You look like hell. Go home. Shower. Sleep in a real bed. You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends. That’s how engines blow.”
“I’m not an engine.”
“You’re more temperamental than one.” She crosses her arms. “And I’m not asking.”
I rub the back of my neck. The truth is, I’m dead on my feet. Every muscle aches, my eyes feel like sandpaper, and the cot’s got a spring with a personal vendetta against my spine. But I hate the thought of leaving.
Leaving the car and the space where I can stillfeelher.
George softens. “You’re allowed to rest, Nolan. The car’ll still be here. And so will she.”
I grunt, which is about as close as I get to a surrender.
Her grin is smug. “There. Was that so hard?”
I mutter a curse under my breath, grab my keys, and make for the door.
“I’ll be back tonight,” I tell George.
She waves me off. “You always are.”
Sally arrives promptly that evening, wearing confidence she doesn’t know she has.She walks toward me as if she has a right to be here. As if she expects me to be here too.
I am.
I was.
Long before 7 PM.
Long before I should’ve been.
“Hey,” she says, smiling like she’s glad I exist.
Dangerous. God, that smile is dangerous. And so is the woman attached to it.
“You’re always on time,” I observe.
