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“Okay, but can I just ask you one more question?” I ask, pushing away from the wall.
“Other than the one you just asked?” he teases, and I realize we might just be okay.
“Ha, ha, ha, you’re so funny,” I deadpan. “But yeah, I was just wondering who the old people are in there. Because no one ever actually answered that question earlier.”
“That’s because they’re not old.”
“Okay … How about older people?”
“Much better.” His smile is genuine. “They’re the owners of the auto shop and this bar.”
“How do you guys know them?”
“Jay used to work for my dad but quit when I was about ten or so. He was probably the closest thing I had to a dad up until that point.” He smiles wistfully. “He moved away from Honeyton for a while but returned a couple of years ago. He’s really been there for me and my brothers and sister since then. Gave us jobs. Helped me learn how to do grown-up things. Stuff like that.”
“Your eyes light up when you talk about him,” I remark. “He must be a good guy.”
“He is. And so is his wife, Sofie, the older woman.” He sweeps strands of his hair out of his eyes. “They’ve been talking about giving us the shop forever, but honestly, I didn’t really believe it was going to happen. I think because I’ve subconsciously gotten used to disappointment and naturally have a hard time believing good stuff will happen to me.”
“I actually understand where you’re coming from,” I say without any forethought, then instantly cringe.
Sometimes, I can be so open with Blaise that it’s frightening.
“I’m not surprised,” he tells me. “You and I are kind of similar in ways.”
My natural instinct is to argue, but I know he’s right, so … “Yeah, I guess we sort of are.”
His lips threaten to turn upward. “Did you just agree with me?”
“Maybe.” I restrain a smile. “I do have one more question, though … about how Jay quit working for your dad.”
His brows pull together. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Well, it’s just that, from what you’ve told me about your dad”—and from what his dad told me personally—“it doesn’t seem like you can just quit working for him without any repercussions.”
That sparkle that was in his eyes dims. “You’re eerily accurate about that.”
“So then, how did he do it?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure, but I think him moving away might have had something to do with it.”
“You think his punishment for quitting was moving away from Honeyton?” No, it couldn’t be that easy.
He shakes his head. “No, I think he left to endure his punishment where no one he knew would have to see.”
I gulp. “But he returned to Honeyton eventually and is okay now, right?”
He shrugs stiffly. “It’s hard to say for sure. Some people are really good at pretending to be okay when things are far from it.”
It’s like he’s reading my soul aloud.
It’s damn near terrifying.
“We should go back inside. They’re probably wondering where we are,” he says distractedly, staring off into La La Land.
I nod then follow him inside, rattled, unnerved, and worst of all, scared. Usually, I’m way better at keeping my fear under control. Or at least pretending not to be afraid.
Pretending to be okay.
