“I handled it, but…” In the spirit of the moment, I decide to get vulnerable too. “I, uh, I wanted to apologize for how I acted yesterday.”
All three men come to a complete stop.
“The workshopdoeshave rules and a structure to abide by.” I pull my hands behind my back to hide my fidgeting. “However, I should have listened to you and Jimmy when you told me I was overdoing it with the inspection.”
A thick silence falls.
All the guys look stunned.
Did I seemthatarrogant yesterday? Maybe I overdid it while trying to assert my authority.
“I… used to work on planes and when you’re up there in the air, every bolt, every rivet isveryimportant. One bad rivet could mean a part of the plane tears off.”
Blade winces.
“One part of the plane tearing off means that the shield around the cabin can potentially open and people can get sucked out.”
Jimmy grimaces and turns his head slightly away.
“Life and death depend on one rivet. It’s why there’s airplane maintenance hierarchy. It’s why we have double and triple checks and sign logbooks to make sure that nothing is missed.”
I stare down at the callouses on my hands. “I have a lot to learn about auto-mechanics and I want you all to know that I respect your experience in that area. I’ll try to listen more than I lecture.”
Jimmy taps his chin. “I, for one, don’t mind the logbooks, boss. Ain’t nothing wrong with writing down notes. Makes me feel all official, like I work in an office.”
“Nah, I hate the logbooks. You can fill in my notes for me too then,” Carlos says.
Blade rolls his eyes but I see a tiny smile breaking free on his lips.
A few minutes later, the guys start working on the church van and I steal away to send a text to Nat.
Riley: I want to make a tweak to our deal.
Nat: What about it?
Riley: You said I shouldn’t give up on AMT, but that’s not what I want.
Nat: Okay. What do you want?
Riley: I want to dominate auto mechanics.
Chapter Eighteen
NATHAN
My morning is filled with drills and while I can’t exactly impress Coach by doing the best circle cross-overs, I still give it my all.
I’m a sweaty, overheated mess by the time we break for lunch, and I drag myself to the locker room to switch out of my damp, hockey gear.
My hair clings to my forehead. I push it back with one hand as I pull out my phone to text Riley. I want to see her today, so I eagerly type:
Nat: You, me and Bob’s Burgers? You in?
Whoa. Is it just me or does that sound corny? I erase the text.
Nat: Are you free? Want to grab burgers with me?
I erase that too.
