Page 4 of Not Until I Found You

He pops the hood, and we both step around the front of the truck. For the next few minutes, the three of us try everything we can think of to get it to start. We check connections, tapping the starter, and give the battery cables a wiggle. Nothing seems to work. Ashton leans back against the fender, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.

“Come on, old girl,” Ryland says under his breath.

I chuckle. “You know, you could finally buy a truck that was built in this century.”

He shoots me a look. “But this one belonged to Pops.”

“Yeah,” I say. “And Pops also owned a flip phone until 2018. Doesn’t mean we should follow his lead on everything.”

Ryland shakes his head, but a grin pulls at his mouth. I reach into my pocket and toss him my keys. He catches them mid-air.

“Take my truck home.”

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’ll hitch a ride to work in the morning with Ashton.”

Ashton’s brows shoot up, caught off guard for a second before he snorts under his breath. “You could at least pretend to ask, but yeah, that’s fine.”

I glance back at the orange truck, resting a hand on its hood. “Besides,” I add, smirking at Ryland, “maybe this old thing will finally accept that it’s time to retire.”

Ryland scoffs as he opens my truck door. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Raine and Annabelle climb into the passenger seat of my truck. Ryland fires it up, and I smirk as the engine turns over instantly. He leans out the window and points a finger at me.

“Don’t touch anything on my truck while I’m gone.”

I raise both hands. “No promises.”

He pulls down the driveway, Raine waving out the window as they disappear around the bend. The clearing goes quiet again as Ashton and I glance over at Pops’ old truck. Then I pat the hood once, ignoring my brother’s wishes.

“Alright,” I mutter to the truck. “Let’s see what your problem is.”

Chapter Two

Maxinne

“Someone left you for dead, huh?”

The potted plant doesn’t respond, obviously, but it’s the best listener I’ve found all night. My fiancé disappeared forty-five minutes ago after promising he’d be “right back.” Of course, Derek hasn’t resurfaced since. Somewhere across the ballroom, he’s probably charming investors, shaking hands, and collecting business cards, while I’m left making awkward eye contact with strangers over shared miniature crab cakes.

I smooth a hand down the front of my dress and glance around the room for what feels like the hundredth time. I bet there’s a woman out there who dreams of a night like this. An event full of floor-length gowns, fancy appetizers floating around the room, and a fiancé who’s handsome and knows exactly what to say in front of a crowd.

Unfortunately for me, my dreams have never looked like this.

They’re more about spending my days in a greenhouse filled with thriving plants, dirt beneath my fingernails, and ending each evening around a table with the people I love the most. A life filled with simple moments that matter and can take root and grow.

“Can I admit something to you?” I say to the plant. “Pretending is exhausting.”

I’m surrounded by hundreds of people, but I feel lonelier than if I were curled up in bed, alone, with a good book and a mug of something warm. Actually, that sounds like heaven. I would much rather be doing that.

As if sensing my loneliness, my phone buzzes in my hand, and the sight of my brother’s name on the screen instantly brings a smile to my face.

“Hey, Ash,” I answer. “What are you up to?”

“The real question is, what in the world are you doing?” His familiar voice crackles through the speaker, the sound bringing a sense of relief to wash over me.

“Oh, you know, same thing, different day.”