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“Sorry. Be out in a minute.” I drop my feet to the floor and sit up, propping my elbows on my knees as I further rub the sleep from my eyes.
“Take your time, son. Garage has been slow since you been in here. I sent one of the other guys to lunch shortly after you.”
I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
Without another word, Dad pats my shoulder then exits the office. Once the door clicks shut, I drop my head in my hands and groan.
Why is it when life is going great, time whizzes by? But when life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, time barely ticks. And to reaffirm the statement, I glance up at the clock and see I still have another four hours left to work.
Fuck.
I comb my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. “Just get off your ass and get the day over with.” Besides, I still have dinner to look forward to. Dinner with my girls. Just the idea of dinner, of seeing Autumn and Clementine, perks me up.
Rising from the couch, I grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge and guzzle half of it before I head back to the garage. I will make the rest of the day better. Even if I have to fake it.
* * *
Dad and I roll down the bay doors and I sigh. The entire day crept by, but thank fuck all is said and done now. Dad checked on me just as much after lunch as he did before. And as we lock up the shop and head to our vehicles, he surprises me with a hug. Not just any hug, but one of hisI’m always here for you, sonhugs.
“Drive safe, son. See you in the morning.”
“You, too. Thanks, Dad.”
Dad hops in his truck, cranks the engine, and waves to me as he drives off. Once out of sight, I straddle the bike and pull my phone from my back pocket. As with the last hundred times I have checked my phone today, there are zero notifications. At least none I want to see. Which doesn’t help the pang since leaving Autumn’s apartment last night.
Inhaling deeply, I open our text history and type out a quick message.
Jonas:Hey, scarlet. Still coming over for dinner?
I hold my breath as I stare, stare, stare at the screen. Silently willing Autumn to read my message and respond.
The screen dims and I tap the glass to wake it. Twenty painstaking heartbeats later, the little gray bubble pops up and those three magical dots dance inside it. Finally, I exhale.
Too soon.
Autumn:Not tonight. Got served today and I just want alone time with Clementine.
Her rejection hurts, but I understand the reason behind it.
Jonas:Want to talk about it?
Autumn:Not tonight. Please. But soon.
God, I wish we were face to face. I desperately want to wrap her hand with mine. Want to comfort her and take away the heartache she must be suffering with all this. But I won’t thrust myself in her face. Won’t annoy her with my anguish. She has enough on her own plate; I shouldn’t add to the list of things to worry about.
Jonas:Sure. Talk to you later.
Autumn:Later.
Can’t imagine what Autumn must be feeling right now, but God how I want to hold her. Tuck her snug in my arms and reassure her everything will be fine. That it will all work out, in her favor. It has to. After everything she has endured as a single parent, how can this not end favorably for her?
I tuck my phone away, start the bike, and drive home. Mindlessly, I weave through the evening traffic. See other drivers on the road, but pay them no attention. The trip is a blur of early sunset colors and bright red and white lights.
The second I set foot in the house, Spartan barks incessantly and bounces around as per usual. Once out of his crate, I open the back door and let him roam the yard while I kick off my boots and grab a beer.
The entire day—and now the evening—feels forced. Mechanical. Lifeless.
I feed Spartan dinner and polish off beer number one. Every few seconds, Spartan stops eating to peer over at the door. His heart hopeful a specific small human will walk through the door and shower him with hugs and conversation.
