“Okay. Fine,” I manage. What else am I supposed to do?
He studies me. “You hurt, or just stranded?”
“Both,” I admit, voice rough.
He grins. “Fair enough.”
After a pause, he points to the open truck door. “Want to get out of this heat?”
I hesitate only a second before sliding inside.
He slips in behind the wheel, moves the truck around, and lines it up with my car. “I’m Jack, by the way,” he says.
“Beth.”
We share a brief, awkward silence.
He glances at me, unreadable. “Don’t worry. You’re not the worst breakdown I’ve seen this month.”
I almost smile.
He jumps out to finish attaching my car. I look down the endless ribbon of highway, heart still racing, but a sense of safety takes hold.
Maybe this is a turning point, not an ending.
Eventually, he gets back in the truck, looks at me, and smiles. “You ready?”
“Let’s go.”
***
The garage is pure small town: an open, concrete-floored space, thick with the tang of motor oil and heat. Tools line the walls; a battered neon sign hums over the office door.
Jack pulls the truck to a stop and hops out to unhook my car. Almost instantly, another figure steps from the shadowy bay—older than Jack, the same dark hair, his smile confident and sharp.
“Well, well,” he calls, wiping grease from his hands.
Jack ignores the theatrics, focusing on lowering my car from the truck bed.
The newcomer leans against the passenger side of the tow truck. “You must be the unlucky one Jack just found on the highway.”
I nod. “That’s me.”
He grins. “I’m Henry, Jack’s older, better-looking brother.”
Jack snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Henry winks at me. “Don’t listen to him. Jack’s a genius with cars, but he can’t boil water.”
Somehow, I laugh, a shaky but genuine laugh that surprises me after weeks of misery.
Jack finishes up and dusts off his hands. “We’ll order the part first thing tomorrow. Shouldn’t be too long.”
Reality nips at my heels again. Where am I even supposed to go?
Henry leans in on his elbows. “Need a place to stay? Closest motel’s technically still standing, but unless you like mysterious stains and a front desk guy named Red who collects skulls, I’d pass.”
My eyebrows rise. “That bad?”
