“Yeah, we’ll be good.”
“Okay, then. See you later.” He waves and skitters back to his truck. Did I just bully him into letting me onto his lot? I did, and I have no remorse over it whatsoever.
Am I being a hypocrite, condemning Jake for pouring all his rage onherwhen I’ve been doing the same for years? Maybe, but I don’t care. BecauseonlyI can do that. Only me. She ismine. I mean—the fun of tormenting her is mine and mine alone.
Besides that, everything is playing out perfectly: I can fix her car and be discreet about it. Nobody will ever know it was me.
We finish up at the garage early, so I say goodbye to the guys and go to load my truck with everything I need to fix her car. New brakes and a new alternator. Tools, rags, pads. Once everything’s loaded up, I lock up the shop and drive to Bobby’s.
He’s waiting for me in his car by the gates to his lot. He hefts himself out when he sees me. “Here are the keys.” He passes them to me, clearly still nervous. “Just put ‘em under the can by the gates once you’re done.” He’s about to walk back to his car when he turns to me and adds, “You’re not back to the racing, are you?”
“No, Bobby, I’m here to fix Kayla’s car. That’s all, I promise.” It sounds surreal to say her name out loud. In my mind, it’s alwaysherorshe, as if she's some great and formidable god, and I dare not speak her name, soKaylafeels foreign on my tongue.
He nods slowly, accepting this. “Alright. I don’t know why you’re doing that—” I give him a look, after which he amends, “and frankly, it’s none of my business, but you’re doing a good thing. This girl needs a break.”
I clench my jaw to barricade pure venom from spitting out.Needs a break, my ass. I almost change my mind about fixing her car at that.Almost.
While I’m contemplating whether I should follow logic or guilt, Bobby takes off, leaving me alone with the keys to his junk kingdom in my hands. Bobby has a huge lot, half of which is for towing while the other is a literal junkyard. I’m not sure which part he put her Jeep in—it sure as fuck belongs in the latter—but I get the feeling he spared it.
I get back into my truck and pull in, confirming it is waiting on the towed side, and stop there. First, I need to replace the alternator and the battery. Then I need to get the car to the rack to change the brakes. Luckily, Bobby has a car lift, so I don’t have to haul her Jeep all the way back to my shop.
Once I pop the hood, I whistle. It’s even worse than I remember from a few days ago. I get my tools from the truck and get to work. It takes me a good few hours to get everything fixed, and by the time I'm done, it's deep into the night. I decide to leave the broken headlight as it would be too obvious that somebody’s been meddling with the car.
I lock everything up, hide the keys at the usual place by the fence, and drive home. By the time I arrive at the garage, I feel exhaustion enveloping my body and muting my feelings. I’m about to crash. I park my car and barely make it inside before collapsing on the couch.
ChapterSix
KAYLA
Yesterday evening Marina made good on her word to give me a lift home and promised to pick me up this morning. Today I need to deal with my Jeep, but I don’t know how to go about fixing the problem. I don’t know how much I owe, but considering there’s been quite a few tickets I haven’t paid over a decent chunk of time, the penalties will be embarrassingly huge, and I can't afford that. Big surprise there.
I’m just finishing my coffee when Marina’s car pulls up. I shove my arms into my jacket as I head outside; it’s seven in the morning, and the air is frosty. When the hell will this never-ending cold go away? I don’t remember it ever lingering for so long—it’s like this year, it sunk its teeth into spring and won’t let go. Yes, we’re higher up on the mountain than most, and the weather is unpredictable here, but still. The end of May should be much warmer.
I shiver as I run to Marina’s SUV and hop inside, letting out an embarrassing moan of pleasure when I hit the seat.
“Heated seats. Oh, heated seats, how much I missed you!” I cry, patting my cold thighs.
Marina arches a perfectly manicured brow. “How can you miss something you’ve never had?”
“Oh, sheesh, aren’t you a party pooper? Let me enjoy my fantasy." She's right, though, I’ve never had a fancy car with fancy features, and heated seats are very fancy in my book.
“Take my car until you know what to do with yours,” she offers again.
“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, sure you will. How are you planning on getting to work from here? I can’t make it up here every morning, unfortunately. Unless you want to park your home behind mine?” She addresses a very valid point—I could have parked my trailer behind her house and been good until I knew what to do. It doesn’t escape me either that she called my trailer my “home,” warming my prickly self this cold, early morning. People who have actual houses rarely treat trailers as real homes, even though they are.
“That’s an option. But let’s see how much it’ll cost to get my old beast back first.”
Marina nods quietly; she’ll support me no matter what, and I love her for that. She suddenly looks around with hawk-like attention. “I feel like someone’s watching us.” Her voice is suspicious.
“Oh.” I look around and see the bushes move. “It’s probably Frank.”
She looks at me in wonder. “He’s still coming here?”
“Of course. Why would he stop?” Despite us being like family, she could never understand my relationship with Frank.
“Why would he indeed.” She hums and puts the car into drive.
