“I don’t want to jump to anything,” he says, lowering his voice slightly. “But one of the clamps near the fuel line was loose. Like… looser than it should’ve been.”
My stomach tightens. “Loose how?”
“Not falling off or anything,” he says quickly. “Just enough that it could’ve caused issues if you kept driving it like that.”
“Is that normal?”
He shrugs. “Stuff can work itself loose over time. Vibration, wear… that sort of thing, but this would’ve had to be more recent.”
I hesitate. “So… it could’ve just worked itself loose, then?”
“It’s possible,” he says. “Or someone was under the hood at some point and didn’t tighten it back all the way. Hard to say.”
“Okay…”
“But you’re good now,” he adds. “We tightened everything up and checked the rest. Nothing else looked off. It’s parked out front.”
“Okay.”
He slides the keys across the counter with the paperwork.
“How much do I owe you?”
He glances at the screen, then back at me. “It’s already taken care of.”
“What?”
“Paid in full.”
“By who?”
He hesitates just long enough for it to register.
“Was it Cooper?”
He doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.
I press my lips together and slide my wallet into my purse before I say something I shouldn’t.
“Thank you,” I force out.
“Hey,” Caleb adds when I reach the door. “If anything feels off, like if it’s driving funny or it’s making any noise, bring it back here. We can give it another look. No charge.”
This time, when I thank him, I mean it.
When I step outside again, I suck in a sharp breath, trying to wrap my mind around everything. I stand there for a second, staring at the rust spreading along the seam of the trunk, flaking around the edges.
I try to make sense of it. Who would’ve been under the hood? Don’t you need the keys to even pop it? I can’t think of a time it was left unlocked. Maybe it just… loosened on its own like Caleb said.
I unlock the door and slide into the driver’s seat. The engine turns over easily. My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
Cooper paid for it.
I release a breath through my nose. He needs to stop doing this. He can’t just quietly step in and fix things like I can’t handle them myself.
I back out of the lot and pull onto the main road.
The hockey house isn’t far. Close enough that the anger doesn’t have time to cool. By the time I turn on their street, I’ve rehearsed in my head what I’m going to say.
