“She just needs an oil change,” Julian tells me, nodding toward his truck. “Mind if I hang with you while you work?”
“Um.” I turn, eyeing where Uncle Danny has disappeared back into the office. “Sure.”
It’s the least I can do. Julian really is a nice guy, someone who clearly went through something on his trek to winning Atlas over—considering the scar that now runs over his eye and toward his nose. The scar he said a rabid dog gave him, but is so obviouslynotfrom that kind of accident.
I really should be nicer to him.
Julian pulls his truck into the dock, and I grab the jack and begin working on his oil change.
“You’ve really blossomed here, huh?” he asks me, sitting on the spare parts table behind me.
“I wouldn’t sayblossomed,” I mutter, walking a few feet away to grab the needed oil.
“I would.” He laughs. “You look great, man. Really.”
“Thanks. You do… uh, you do too.”
I don’t turn to read his expression, only stick to my job nervously. I can hear the steady thump of his legs swinging as I look under his truck.
“Listen,” Julian begins, tone awkward and unsure. “I wanted to ask you, because it’s been on my mind since the last time we saw each other, but uh, how do you know Atticus?”
I damn near slam my head against the frame of his trunk, my eyes widening.
“W-what do you mean?” I rush out.
“Well… I’ve just never seen him so startled as when he saw you and Cas. What happened between you guys?”
Fuck, I really am an open book. EvenJuliancould see my longing, my misery.
“Not much,” I reply shortly. “Just… we just used to be friends, is all.”
The wordfriendstastes sour on my tongue. Especially as memories of his hands on my body resurface. Of his gentle guiding and that beautiful day when he blew me in the living room of that little house after I gifted him a snow globe I found in the junkyard.
“Oh. Okay. Why didn’t you guys mention it when we first met?” Julian asks.
“It just didn’t feel important, I guess,” I lie.
I lie, and lie, and lie.
“Makes sense,” he offers, giving me an undue reprieve.
I take it anyway.
I work in silence for a while, doing my best not to move jerkily or draw attention to myself. God forbid I make it even more obvious that I’m devastated over Atticus and what happened between us.
“Oh!” Julian calls out after some time has passed. “Atlas’s twenty-first birthday is coming up. We’re having a party for him on Saturday. Wanna come?”
I damn near stop breathing. This guy won’t stop dropping bombs on me, and I can’t take it emotionally.
“To… to Chastain Castle?” I ask him, pausing my movements as I stop pouring in oil.
“Yeah. It should be fun! It’ll be the first time he’s ever invited people over.”
“I… I don’t think so, Julian. Sorry.”
The idea of turning back up there after Atticus made it so clear he wants nothing to do with me makes me sick. He’d be pissed, or I’d end up in another fight with him that I certainly can’t win and would only damage our non-existent relationship even further.
“That’s a shame,” Julian murmurs. “I’m going to text the group chat and invite everyone else too, so hopefully you’ll—”
