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“Yeah, but I’d rather be covered in sawdust and sweat than oil, antifreeze, gas, and sweat. I got interested in carpentry in high school.” He rubs the back of his arm over his brow, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Joined the union, spent some time traveling for work, decided to become a contractor. I was working in Montana until my mom got sick last year. I came back to spend some time with her and stuck around to keep Dad company. Fortunately, the Maysons were looking for a contractor to help with their uptick in business, so when Talon heard I was back, he asked if I was interested.”
Mayson, I’ve only been here a couple of months, and this isn’t the first time I’ve heard that name. I still don’t know much about them though. “Is that the guy you were chatting with last night?”
“Yeah, Talon and I went to school together, and I’m familiar with most of the family.”
“I take it that’s a big name around here. You’re not the first I’ve heard mention it.”
Dash scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re around here long, it’ll be a name you’ll encounter a lot. What brought you all the way down here anyway?”
“Janelle suggested it since she was looking for someone reliable to work at the restaurant, and I needed a change.” I stare toward the tiny house she also helped me find. It’s a stretch for my budget, but for the first time, Holden has a fenced-in yard to enjoy, and we live on a dead-end street so there isn’t a lot of traffic. I’d saved up enough for two months’ rent, and since Janelle knows the owners, she talked them out of charging me a deposit. She’s basically the only friend I’m still in contact with since the whole Shane debacle—mostly because she wasn’t around for it. Her family moved here during our senior year of high school, and just like that, I’d lost my support system.
Midway through the school year, on my eighteenth birthday, no less, Mom kicked me out. I spent the next couple of years couch surfing, looking for something I couldn’t even describe, and losing myself in the process. At my lowest low, I met Shane. I thought he might be my redemption, but instead, he quickly became my biggest curse.
“I just got tired of being followed by phantoms of the past,” I mumble.
“Yeah, I know that feeling.”
I tell myself to keep my mouth shut. I’m just trying to pass the time and don’t want to know more about him than a casual chat, but there’s something about his expression—indicating that he truly means it—that leaves me curious. “Is that why you left?”
“Yeah, after things ended with Janelle, I went in search of a fresh start, but I was too restless to actually settle down anywhere so I took any union job I could find.”
Running. Trying not to give yourself time to look back. “Anyway...” I stare up at the sky, trying to think of another subject—any other subject. “The weather here is nothing like Cleveland. Is it ever not hot?”
“You consider this hot?” Dash snorts. “It’s like seventy out. What are you going to do when summer gets here?”
“Swelter, and long for lake effect snow.”
“Yeah, you definitely won’t find that here, thankfully. I saw my lifetime quota of snow in Montana, and I hated it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m wrong?” He sounds incredulous, but a wide smile crinkles his face. “I didn’t know hating snow was something that could be wrong.”
“Oh, it’s most definitely wrong.” Oh, fuck. Am I flirting? Stop this nonsense right now.
Holden squirms in my arms and pushes away from the fender. “Juice.”
Thank goodness.“You want juice?”
He nods and smiles. “Pease!”
“Okay, but you need to leave the flashlight in case Dash needs it.”
He hands it over to me, and I rest it in the divot at the top of the fender. Then, he grabs my fingers, leading me toward the front door. Inside, I grab him a bag of animal crackers and a juice box, hoping the two of them will keep him satisfied for a while. I figure Dash would probably like something to drink as well, so I grab a couple of bottles of water before heading back out front.
When we return, Dash is standing near the fender where Holden and I had been standing, once again shoulder-deep in the engine compartment.
“I brought you some water.” I hold up the bottle and sit it on the first flat surface I see under the hood, while Holden shows off his juice box and crackers.
“Oooh,” Dash coos. “You got a snack, too. Are they good?”
Holden nods and jams his hand into the bag. “Want one?”
“No thanks. I ate on the way here, so they’re all yours.”
Holden wanders back toward the patio, grabbing some of his blocks and sitting with them in the grass.
“Think you can give me a hand?” Dash asks.
I grimace. “What exactly does it involve?”
He waves me over to where he’s standing. “When I pull up on the wrench, you slip the belt off of that wheel. I can’t get enough leverage from this angle to do both.”
Doesn’t sound too hard, so I lean over the filter. Unfortunately with my arm in the only opening, I can no longer see the wheel, but I find the belt with my fingers and wait for Dash to give me the signal. As he pulls up on the wrench, the belt loosens.
“It’ll still be a little tight, just work it free.
I manage to move it most of the way off but struggle for a moment to clear the final lip. Finally, it slides free, and Dash releases the wrench.
“How on earth do you know what you’re doing if you can’t see anything while you’re working?” I rub my fingertips together, and even though they don’t look dirty, there’s a weird grimy texture left behind.
“I guess,” Dash says with a wry grin. Then he hands me a rag from his back pocket.
