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“He seemed supportive.”

“He is. Annoyingly so.”

Deadeye glanced toward the line of cars then back at me. He seemed busy. Everyone here seemed busy. Still, he stayed right where he was, giving me time.

“I can replace the parts today,” he said. “If you need to split the cost up, we can do that.”

I searched his face for the catch and found none. That alone made me wary in a sad, embarrassing way. “Why are you being nice to me?”

One of his brows lifted. “Should I stop?”

“No. God, no.” I rubbed my forehead and felt the tension there. “Keep going. I’m just suspicious by nature.”

“It’s a good survival skill.”

“Thank you. My father paid a lot for it.”

The joke came out lighter than it felt as a suit bag flashed across my mind. Rent checks. The old threat tucked into every delivery. My smile remained in place despite the weight crushing me.

“You want the estimate before I start?” Deadeye studied me for a beat longer than before, as if he could see past the fake-as-fuck smile to the part of me I was barely holding together.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Please.”

He nodded and motioned for me to follow him toward a side counter near the office window. I fell into step beside him, aware of my boots on the concrete, aware of him not once making me feel stupid for the skirt or the sunglasses or the fact that my voice had gone tight over money.

Chapter Two

Niles

My car was thankfully repaired, but the price still made me want to lie down on the concrete and stare at the sky until my bank account replenished itself through sheer force of will.

Deadeye walked me to the driver’s side door, that rag still tucked into his pocket. I noticed his work shirt had a fresh smear of grease near the collar. I noticed a lot of things about him that I planned to examine more closely when he wasn’t standing two feet away from me.

“So the belt’s replaced,” he said, tapping the hood gently with the flat of his hand. “Tensioner too. Should run smooth now.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then you call me.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. His handwriting was blocky and neat, nothing like the chaotic scrawl I’d expected from a mechanic. Ten digits. No name. Just a number.

I took the paper, careful not to let my fingers brush his. My pulse had already been through enough today, especially concerning this man. “Is this the shop line?”

“Personal cell.” His mouth curved at one corner. “In case it acts up again. Or you have questions. Or you need someone to talk you off the ledge about a weird noise.”

“Bold of you to hand out your number to someone dressed like this.”

“I’ve taken bigger risks.”

Folding the paper carefully, I tucked it into the tiny pocket of my skirt, the one that barely held a tube of lip gloss. It fit there like it belonged. “Thank you. For the repair. And the…not making me feel like garbage about paying for it.”

My father would’ve reminded me over a dozen times about who paid the bill. Deadeye had treated me like I was a human being who was fiscally challenged instead of a broke bitch using his best friend’s name for cheap discounts.

The man had no idea how much that mattered to me.

“You’re welcome.” He stepped back from the car, giving me room to leave. “Drive safe, Niles.”

Getting into my car felt oddly final. I started the engine and listened to it purr instead of clunk, relief washing through me in a wave that left my shoulders looser than they’d been all morning. Through the windshield, Deadeye was already walking back toward the garage, calling something to another mechanic that made them both laugh.

I pulled out of the lot before I could do something stupid like watch him walk away for too long.