“Don't apologize.” I could hear movement on his end, the creak of a chair. “I'll send Evan to pick you up. He can get your truck to Gideon's garage, they'll figure out what's wrong. You still good to work today or do you need...”
“I'm fine. Just need a ride.”
“Evan's on his way. Twenty minutes, maybe less if he ignores the speed limit.” A pause. “Which he will, because it's you.”
Something warm spread through my chest at the implication. That Evan would hurry because I mattered. That I'd become someone worth hurrying for.
“Thanks, Daniel.”
“Anytime.” His voice dropped slightly, went softer. “I'll see you when you get here.”
He hung up, and I sat in my dead truck feeling stupidly pleased about a conversation that had been entirely practical. This was what my life had become. Getting warm feelings from the Alpha of a werewolf pack offering to send his son to rescue me from automotive failure.
Evan showed up in eighteen minutes, which meant he'd definitely been speeding. Nate was in the passenger seat, because apparently they'd reached the stage of their relationship where neither of them went anywhere alone if they could help it.
The tow truck from Ward's Garage pulled up behind them, Cal hanging out the driver's side window with a grin that suggested he found my misfortune deeply entertaining.
“Engine trouble?” Cal called out. “Let me guess. You've been ignoring the check engine light for at least a month.”
“Three weeks,” I admitted.
“Close enough. Pop the hood, let's see what you've done to this poor vehicle.”
While Cal assessed the damage, Evan and Nate wandered over. They moved in sync without seeming to notice it, shoulders brushing, Nate's hand finding the small of Evan's back like it belonged there.
“Dad.” Nate's grin was sympathetic and teasing in equal measure. “You know the check engine light exists for a reason, right?”
“I'm aware.”
“And you know ignoring it doesn't make the problem go away?”
“Also aware.”
“Just checking.” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Evan's going to give you a ride to the mill. Cal's taking the truck back to the garage. Gideon will probably lecture you about preventive maintenance.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Cal emerged from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag. “Alternator's shot. Could be worse. Probably have you back on the road in a day or two, depending on parts.”
“How much is that going to cost me?”
“Enough that you'll remember to listen to warning lights next time.” But Cal's expression was kind beneath the teasing. “Don't worry about it. We'll work something out. Family discount.”
“Thanks, Cal.”
“Thank me by not destroying any more vehicles through willful neglect.” He was already hooking up the tow chains, moving with the efficient competence of someone who'd done this a thousand times. “Now get out of here. Some of us have actual work to do.”
Evan's truck smelled like pine and coffee and something distinctly wolf, that wild undercurrent I'd learned to recognize in all of them. Nate had claimed the middle seat, which meant he was pressed against Evan's side with no pretense of personal space.
“You know there's a whole other seat,” I observed, climbing in.
“This one's better.” Nate didn't even look apologetic. “Better view.”
“The view is identical.”
“Not from where I'm sitting.” He grinned, and Evan's hand found his knee without looking, squeezed once before returning to the steering wheel.
They were ridiculous. Completely, utterly ridiculous in the way that only people deeply in love could be. Every touch casual, unconscious, like their bodies had forgotten how to exist without contact.
