Hazel
Tucker?
Are you kidding me? That kid adores you and he misses you
Me
Eli hasn’t asked
Hazel
Then march your hot ass over there and tell him you demand some time with his kid
Me
Not sure that’s how it works
Hazel
Babe…this is weird af.
Even Tay asked what was up with you two.
Another text flashes across my screen. A group chat between Ramona, Eli, and me.
Ramona
Got your video done and I can’t not share! I hope you guys love it. Thank you again for coming out for that session! I’ll send you the link once it’s posted!!
I groan, sinking into my desk chair. Kellan has started getting suspicious as well. Guess that’s what happens when you get tangled up with someone who’s basically family. I set my phone down, ignoring the vibration as someone calls me. It’s 50/50 on who it is. It could be Eli, calling to smooth things over, to make a plan for the people we love, witnessing us make utter fools of ourselves. My money is on Hazel, though. She doesn’t like to be ignored.
Heaving a sigh, I return to the text thread from earlier. I sent my phone number on my resume, and Miss Allura Jones sent me a text not thirty minutes later. I would have felt more comfortable doing this over email or even the phone. But here I am, begging for a job interview—over text.
Me
Hello Miss Jones
I am writing to let you know I will be passing through your area tomorrow.
I won’t be passing through. I’m making the trip specifically for this.
Me
If you’re still looking for someone to fill the front desk position, I would be happy to come in and chat.
I sign my name at the end of the text, something that feels a bit like a crime, if I’m being honest.
I am not surprised when Allura Jones texts me back right away, asking to see me at eleven. I check my watch, counting the hours on my fingers. Juniper Hills is nine hours away. If I want to make the drive and be somewhat coherent for an interview at eleven a.m., I’m going to have to leave now.
“Dad.” I call into the house, which is attached to the shop. Massy Auto Body is Dad’s baby. Kellan only took it over in the last year or two.
“What’s up, Sugar Plum?” My dad rounds the corner, a pair of blue overalls tight over his beer belly, gray hair growing in a ring around the sides of his head—the top completely bald.
“I need to take off. Can you man the desk for the rest of the day? And tomorrow?”
“Sure thing. Everything okay?”
“Totally.” I force a smile.
