“What?”How did I not know this?
“The guy didn’t really, I don’t know, bloom until he was like 22, maybe even 23.” She looks past me again. “You showed up around when he really started to…shine. He has always been a nice, funny, extremely helpful and charming guy. People liked him, but would walk all over him. The poor guy couldn’t say no. Girls took advantage of that, but they wouldn’t look twice at him. He’d never complain when that happened. He was kind of a funny looking dork?—”
My body tenses at her words. First in defence because he’s my beautiful Carter, but then reality hits. I put my mug down and grip her hands to stop her tangent because,do I even really want to know all of this?So he was boob blind and couldn’t help himself when a pretty little number likehershowed him interest?Bullshit.
“What does Trevor think needs done then?”
She gives me a sad smile and squeezes my hands. I move them back to my mug. “He says it only needs fluids topped off every one or two months and other car issues will be checked at those points.”
I sigh in relief, but then something pops into my head. “I’ve notdone a thing with my car other than fill it with gas for years.” I let my head drop to the table. “I’m going to have to add that to my new budget.” I’m going to need to make a really strict budget and actually talk to Carter about what the next step looks like. The house, the rent, the pets, everything. The thought pokes at one of the bruises on my already obliterated heart.
Paige looks at me sadly, and takes my hand in hers again. “You know I care about you, right? I have your back—we have your back. We know your family doesn’t live nearby, but we do. Please just reach out if you need anything.”
10
THE HEADLAMP
CARTER
Icarefully open her car door and straighten my headlamp. Becky loves her old Rover, but it has some old man aches and pains. To stay on the safe side, I’ve been checking the engine, brakes, tires, and fluids every couple of weeks since she first brought it in. It’s a little over the top. However, I don’t need her getting stranded.
She was hilarious that day she brought her Rover into the shop. She was all blushes and solid attempts at sounding like she knew what she was talking about. The bluster was adorable, but also infuriating because I know why she felt like she needed to play expert.
Many mechanics are assholes. Paul is one of them. They see a lovely little woman like my—like Becky, or really any woman, and see dollar signs. These men all have an assumed, sexistthey’re cluelessbullshit mentality. They up-charge and call for chaos on any tiny thing they can with the vehicle they’re meant to diagnose and fix when their client fits a certain description.
Seeing Becky put on an act to protect herself made my hackles rise, so I promised myself two things. One, I would be around Paul anytime he dealt with a woman customer. Two, Becky would neverhave to deal with anyone except me as her mechanic ever again. I’ve kept both promises so far, but now I have to be her silent,behind-the-scenesmechanic. I didn’t want her to have to deal with me when she didn’t want to, and I definitely didn’t want her to deal with asshole Paul.
I already have a rotation for general maintenance: Oil change, rotate tires, check belts, spark plugs, wiring, brakes, fill tires, and more.
Now, I just have to adjust the time of day I do the work. Monday morning, I set my alarm for before she woke up and checked her tires and her fluid levels. Today is an oil change, so I had to come over after she came home so the car was still semi-warm to make it all easier, but late enough that she won’t realize I’m out here. The sun is far lower than I wanted it to be, but the hood to the car is still warm. The job won’t be too terribly difficult.
I pull the lever and pop the hood to get started when the porch light flips on. I duck as fast as I can, but I can still hear the voice of my own personal angel call out in clear exasperation.
“What in the actual Sam’s hell are you doing?” I can’t help but smile at her sass. Riling her up is—was always my favorite thing.That fire of hers is delicious.
I pop my head back up and say something stupid. “Spying.”What in the fuck, Carter.
“What the fuck, Carter.” She says, mirroring my thoughts. It's not even a question, and that makes me smile wider. Her hands are on her lovely hips, and she's squinting in my direction.
“Yeah, so…I’m changing your oil. It’s due, and I know school is starting, and I know you’re busy, and I don’t want you going to Paul cause he’s a creep and—” I'm rambling, I know it. I can’t help it because I haven't seen her in almost a week.
“Carter.”
“I know he’d make you pay extra and wait in our gross waiting room?—”
“Carter!” She shouts my name, and again I just,gah. I just miss her.
“Yeah.” I respond, knowing a goofy look is plastered on my face.
“Can you turn off the blasted headlamp? You’re blinding me with it.”Aww, hence the squinting.
“Oh, damn. Sorry.”Whoops.I'm being stupid as hell, but thenshe laughs,possibly in exasperation, but my heart just swells and breaks at the same time. I love this woman. My whole soul sings for her.
“Are you almost done?” She asks, laughter still in her voice.
“Uh, no. I just started. Do you want me to leave? I’m sor?—"
“What? Hell no. It’s the least of what I deserve. Just don’t screw it up.”
