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I crossed my arms and leaned against the side of my truck, waiting for him to finish up. There were no sounds coming from the two bays in the garage, and I didn’t see Aderyn’s truck, so she was likely doing a house call or begging off work.
Jaeg reached behind himself to grab an invoice and passed it to the girl. She folded it up and shoved it into her small crossbody purse. She turned and headed for the door. I didn’t recognize her, but then I hadn’t been here in a long time. She looked young, maybe late teens, but it was hard to tell because she wore oversized sunglasses.
Jaeg straightened, pushing off his desk as he said something. The girl stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him.
I watched. This was where he drew them back in. Maybe make them giggle or smile, and then heat would invade their cheeks. He had it down to perfection.
But sundress-girl didn’t laugh or smile. Her body stiffened, and her lightly glossed lips tightened as she said something to him that caused Jaeg’s disarming grin to quickly drop.
The girl tugged open the door and walked out, heading straight for the rusted truck. There was a trailer hitch on the back and a sticker on the bumper that read, “Back Off” with an image of a horse kicking with both back legs. I had a feeling that’s exactly what she’d told Jaeg.
She didn’t even glance in my direction as she opened her car door, the hinges groaning in protest. She hopped in and slammed it. A large chunk of rust broke off and fell to the pavement. I expected the truck to protest when she started the engine, but it purred to life, and she reversed, then pulled out onto the street.
I pushed off the truck and headed for the office. The bell dinged when I opened the door, and Jaeg glanced up from his cell phone.
“Losing your touch,” I said.
Jaeg grunted. “She’ll warm up to me.”
“Since when do you need warming up time?”
“Fuck you. You hear from Addie?”
“No.”
“Jesus. If she wasn’t my sister, I’d fire her ass,” he said, moving toward the door that led into the garage. “She’s supposed to be at Caleb’s, and he just texted, wondering where she is.”
I was pretty sure Jaeg had already fired Addie numerous times, but as pissed as Jaeg got with her, he’d never really fire her.
“You come to tell me you’ve changed your mind and are letting them stay in the cabin?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, following him into the garage. “Why aren’t they living with North if they need a place?”
“North said Macayla doesn’t want Jackson around a bunch of strangers. He always has people around him. You know he hasn’t even met the kid?”
Of course, I didn’t know. I hadn’t talked to North since Macayla’s sixteenth birthday. I scowled. “You spoke to him.”
“Yeah, man. Just because you have your panties in a twist over him breaking our pact, doesn’t mean I do. He was seriously fucked up.” He glanced over at me. “And just for the record, I don’t wear panties.”
I snorted. Fuckin’ Jaeg. Despite, his parents dying and what went down with Aderyn, the guy had somehow kept his sense of humor.
What Jaeg didn’t know was that it had nothing to do with North violating Zero Crow, and had everything do with Macayla.
Jaeg walked over to an Audi Q7 and opened the driver’s door. He half bent, reaching inside and under the steering wheel. He popped the hood, then straightened and walked around to the front and slid his hand into the gap, fiddling for a second before he opened the hood.
“I’m going fishing this afternoon. Want to come? It’ll be the last time before I dock the boat for winter. The quiet might do your screwed-up head some good.”
I huffed. Jaeg wasn’t a quiet fisherman. He talked. And I had no doubt he’d spend it trying to convince me to let them stay in my cabin.
I leaned up against the wooden workbench along the back wall that had a black slate board above it to hold tools. “You still have that piece-of-shit fishing boat?”
“Sure do. The good old Master Baiter is looking good. Painted it this summer.”
“Paint isn’t going to stop that rust bucket from sinking—again.”
“Hey, the Master Baiter saved your ass. It has sentimental value.” Jaeg picked up a torque wrench off the black metal toolbox and ducked under the hood. The wrench must have slipped off whatever he was going to loosen or tighten because he swore beneath his breath.
That sentimental value was the memory of Jaeg, North, and me clinging to its hull in freezing cold water after the boat capsized in a storm. We should’ve died of hypothermia, and would’ve, if North hadn’t decided to try to make it to shore. It was a near impossible feat, but one thing about North—he’d die before he gave up.
