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ChapterSeventeen
Piper
Using a cordless drill, I remove a bolt and toss it into the old red rider wagon on the ground.
“Hey, look,” Finley calls out. “This doodad came right off. You want it?”
Hanging onto the doorway of the old tractor with my elbow, I lean outside to peer at where she’s crouched next to the tire, holding a lug nut.
“Sure. Toss anything you can get off in the box. I’ll go through it later.”
I sit back in the seat, gazing out the windowless cab, taking in the roll of the hills surrounding me. It’s midmorning, the sun ascending into a bright-blue sky fringed with trees surrounding the little clearing where we’ve stopped amid the tractor rubble. Shutting my eyes, I take a deep breath of fresh mountain air.
“You know, you could stay here instead of going back to the city,” Finley says.
“I like the city. Besides, you have so much going on. It’s better I’m out of the way.”
“You’re never in the way. And the city might have amazing restaurants, eclectic culture, and exciting night life, but we have old rusty pieces of construction equipment and feral racoons.”
I laugh. “Mindy needs me more than you do. Someone has to be there to make sure she eats and sleeps and spends at least a fraction of her time not working.”
Although Mindy does have Blake now. Maybe she’d prefer me out of the way. I texted her this morning, but I haven’t heard back.
We continue to work. The occasional bird call, the buzz of cicadas, and the plunk of items falling into the wagon act as the soundtrack of the morning.
“How has it been working with Oliver?” Finley calls out.
“You tell me.”
Another clunk. “It’s been good, actually. He’s growing on me.”
“Really? Me too.” In more ways than one.
“Is that so?”
I bang on a rusty bolt with the hammer and then stop to speak. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, and he’s not quite the cretin most people think he is.”
“I agree.”
I tilt my upper half out of the cab of the truck again. “Really?”
She stands, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Well, it might not be my place to say anything, since it’s none of my business and you’re an adult and all.”
I shrug. “You’re an adultier adult. And none of that has stopped you from speaking your mind before.”
She walks over to stand in front of me. “He’s not a bad guy. But he might not be capable of love. He’s never experienced it.”
I feign nonchalance. “I don’t know what you mean. We’re just friends.” But my heart twists at her words. They’re too similar to what he said. Maybe they’re true.
Her brows lift. “Friends? Are you sure?”
“Maybe it’s more than that, but you don’t need to worry. I know what I can handle, Finley.”
She props a shoulder against the door of the cab, moving a little closer. “I know. I trust you to know what you need. I’m doing this thing where I’m trying to let go and not control everyone. But it’s hard. You deserve the best in the world. I worry about your tender heart. I get Oliver more now. I understand him. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you, and I worry he doesn’t have enough to give you what you need.”
I pick up a screwdriver I set on the seat and rub the hard metal with a thumb. “He’s not like Ben.”
“No. He’s not. I know he’s not. Ben was small. He was a worm. Oliver is larger than life. Ben was a bully. Oliver isn’t a bully, but he doesn’t know how to be soft.” She wrinkles her nose. “He’s all jagged edges and money clips and perfectionism.”
