“He’d never say something,” Jesse adds.
“Not mean,” Cody says, “just honest. Tell her how you feel.”
“That whatyoudo?” Jesse presses. “Mr. Matching Christmas Pajamas last year?”
“I’ll have you know that the bribery on her end for that was immaculate,” Cody fires back.
Jesse just shakes his head and lets it go, and we get back to work on the truck.
A few cusswords from each of us every so often, tools clattering…just a typical morning.
Finally, Cody says exactly what I’m thinking: “Why don’t you just sell this thing? It’s—”
“I’m not selling it,” Jesse snaps.
“Why? You could buy a—”
“I don’t care,” he cuts in. “Ella would kill me.”
“Oh,nowwho’s whipped?” Cody says.
Jesse shrugs. “I’m not disagreeing with her. This truck holds a lot of memories. I’m not selling it.”
Cody groans. “That’s real cute and all, and I’m sure you’d win husband of the year for it, but it’s—”
“The truck stays.” Jesse wipes his brow. “You guys can bury me in it. I don’t care. It’s staying.”
I look at Cody—he’s smiling, shaking his head like there’s no helping Jesse.
Another fifteen minutes pass.
“Try it now,” I say.
The engine coughs, sputters, then roars to life.
“There she goes.” I grin, wiping my hands on the rag.
Jesse kills the ignition and steps out. “Alright. Thanks, guys.”
Cody checks the time, already heading for his truck. “Yeah, I’ll send you the bill then.”
We laugh, watching him drive off.
I stretch, rolling my shoulders. “I should get back home too. Make sure Megan didn’t get rid of my bathroom reading material or something.”
Jesse laughs hard at that as I head toward my truck, already wondering what color she’ll try to sneak in next.
Chapter 14
Mason
It’s been a long day. The kind that leaves your shoulders tight and your patience thin. I paid our bills when I got home, just to get it done—mortgage, utilities, truck payment. Watching that checking account drop lower with each click didn’t help my mood.
But when I hear tires crunching on gravel and see her car pull up, my mood lightens.
She comes through the door smiling, arms full of bags—some grocery, some definitely not. She sets them on the counter, her keys clattering beside them, and leans over to press a quick kiss against my cheek. “Hi, honey.”
“More shopping, huh?” I try to sound calm, casual, but my body’s stiff, my tone just a little too flat.
