“The red minivan in bay three needs new brake pads, and the truck in bay one needs an oil change,” I tell him, mentally going through the list as I take a swig of water. Reaching up, I take my backward baseball cap off and stick it into my back pocket, then pull out a handkerchief and wipe the sweat from my brow.
We haven’t quite reached fall colors yet, and the humid heat certainly hasn’t let up even a bit.
“I’ll get it taken care of. Mikey should be back from lunch soon.”
“Lunch?” Brow furrowed, I check my watch, surprised to see that it’s already thirty minutes past two. How did I miss lunch?
Drew smirks. “You should go grab something to eat, boss. I’ve got it covered. Jenny packed my lunch today.” His wife, pregnant with their third child, has been in full-blown baking mode for the past few weeks.
Honestly, if she brings in any more cookies, I might end up in trouble. We all have our weaknesses, right? Superman has kryptonite, and I have peanut butter cookies. You put one in my vicinity, and it doesn’t matter if I’m stuffed; I’ll devour it like a starving man.
“Yeah. I think I will. You good for a bit?”
“Right as rain,” he replies, then starts lowering Mr. Rodney’s truck from the lift. Since my shop is right smack dab in the center of town, I don’t bother with my motorcycle or my truck as I step out into the sunlight. Though I do fight the urge to glance over at the back entrance to the coffee shop I share a parking lot with.
Just to see if I can get a glimpse of her.
Get your head on straight, Sawyer.
Food. I need food. That will help me clear my head. So, I put one foot in front of the other and make my way toward the diner.
The heat beats down on me, but truthfully, I don’t mind it. I’ve spent a lot of years in the cold; being warm has been a nice change. Salty sea air fills my lungs, combined with a soft, floral scent drifting down the street, thanks to all the sweet olive bushes planted along the roadside.
“Hey there, Sawyer!” I turn to the left as Thomas Holt—my best friend’s son—calls out to me.
“Hey, kid. What are you up to?”
“Just headed to the community center.”
“Shouldn’t you be in class?” I ask, studying him. You wouldn’t know by looking at him, but it wasn’t six months ago that the fourteen-year-old was facing losing his mom. Of course, I was right there in the hot water with her, shot and waiting for a death that I genuinely thought might come.
Back then, Garrison was just the kid’s neighbor. Now, he’s married to Thomas’ mom, Katelyn, and the three of them are expecting a fourth member of the family soon.
He’s a happy kid who always has a bright smile for everyone. But these days, his smile is just a bit brighter.
“Short day,” he explains as he falls into step beside me.
“Nice. Loved those when I was a kid. I’m headed to grab some food. You interested?”
“Wish I could. Garrison is waiting for me. We’re gonna play some hoops at the center, then hit the batting cages. See ya!” he calls out as he takes off down the street.
“See ya, Thomas!”
Garrison is a counselor who also runs the local community center. It’s become a safe haven for teens of all kinds. Troubled ones, bored ones—they all get along when they’re there. I can’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like if I’d had that when I was a kid. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent so much time in the back of a police car.
The door to the diner opens at the same time as I reach forward to open it. The edge of it nearly slams into my face, but I catch it with my hand right as a petite blonde calls out, “Thanks, Maddie! I’ll see you in a bit!”
She turns toward me, and a pair of large, gorgeous hazel eyes widens.
As always, when I see Anastasia Knox, the air leaves my lungs, and my body reacts before my brain even has the chance to recognize her standing there, looking beyond beautiful in the afternoon sunlight.
It shines down on her, revealing golden strands in her hair and bright flecks of copper in her eyes. But just as quickly as it hits me, she’s backing away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.” Quickly averting her gaze from me, she moves around and steps down onto the sidewalk, avoiding even the slightest contact with me like I’m a deadly disease and she can’t afford getting sick.
“It’s okay.” Even though I know she’s bad for me, I let the door close so I can turn toward her. She looks so much the same but might as well be a stranger. She’s cut her hair, shortening it so the silky blonde strands brush the tops of her shoulders. There’s a dark color dusted over her eyes, somehow making her hazel eyes shine even brighter.
And those lips that have haunted my every waking moment since I first met her nearly seven years ago are painted a soft pink.
