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“Starter clutch is fucked.”
“Got a price for them?”
“On my way to do that now.” Taylor hesitates. “Unless you need to talk some more?”
“Nah.” I wave them off. “I’ll be fine.”
Not a lie either. Maybe I need to go to Oopsie Daisies tomorrow morning with a coffee offering and my tail between my legs, admitting that it wasn’t a date and that any other times we hang out won’t be either. It’d be the truth. And it’d get me what I want, which is more time with him.
Giving in shouldn’t be this hard.
Maybe we could catch up Friday night again? Or for lunch one day this week? Saturdays are busy at the shop, so that day’s out, and then Sundays, he’s run off his feet at the market. He really should get some help with that.
Wait …
I might have found my loophole.
A laugh spills from my mouth as I grab the remote and turn the garage speakers up, already looking forward to the weekend.
5
Orson
It’s not evendawn when I park my van in the back lot of Killer Brew and cut the engine. I’m still half-hazy with sleep, but I manage a smile toward the soft glow on the dark horizon. Even on the days that I’m not feeling it, I try to keep perspective. Life is so damn fleeting. Tara can attest to that. Or shecouldif it wasn’t for the stroke, but since she isn’t here, I live every day in her memory.
There are days where I fail. Moments I become too self-absorbed and focus on the negative. But being alive is a gift, and while I might not appreciate it every minute, I alwaystryto do better.
So yes, I’m still tired, but I’m going to get out of my van and spend the day making a stable living doing something I love while I get to hear stories about other people’s lives.
It might not be a big thing, but having those moments of connection throughout the day helps me feel like I’m living through them. Birthday parties and anniversaries, celebrations and apologies. The flowers bought for funerals are always the hardest, but I need those too. The moments to connect with someone grieving and remember what it’s like, then the time after when I let the pain go. It doesn’t get easier, but it reminds me of my resolve to stay positive.
Just as I reach for the handle, my door is yanked open, and the internal light floods the cabin, giving my heart a good jump start. It takes a second for me to recognize Ford standing in front of me.
“You gonna sit there all morning, or what?”
I grab my keys, then climb out, eyeing him. “You strike me as the sleep-in-on-Sundays type. Are you actually here, or am I still in bed, dreaming about my workday?”
“Naw, you dream about me?”
“Haven’t yet.”
He hisses like he’s in pain. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?”
“Remind me, was that dinner or a date we had?”
That keeps him quiet. And while we both know what the truth of it was, I like the teasing. Him not giving in gives ussomething, and I wish I hadn’t thrown out the spur-of-the-moment comment about not getting dinner with him again if he was going to get the wrong idea. Because now I’m stuck. Wanting to hang out but not wanting to be wrong. I call him stubborn, but I’m no better.
“Coffee?” Ford asks, holding a cup out to me.
“Why does this feel like a bribe?”
“Not at all,” he says, taking a sip of his own. “But I figured we’re gonna need them to get through today.”
“We?”
The smug look he gets so often appears. “I figured it was this or sit around bored at home. Congratulations, you won over my couch.”
“High honors.” I round the back of the van and pull open the doors. “You’re going to regret your decision, but I’ll enjoy the help while I have it.”
