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“Chase is in the back,” she said, motioning to follow her through the door to the garage.
I inhaled the familiar smell of motor oil and rubber as we walked through the doorway. I looked around at all the heavy machinery and tools everywhere. My eyes rested on a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a Honda. They rolled out when we walked over to reveal that they belonged to Chase’s father. I would have known whose father it was anywhere, just by looking in his eyes. Chase may have his mother’s hair color, but he looked exactly like his father.
“Hi, Merritt.” Tim wiped his hand on a towel hanging from his belt loop. He reached his hand out to touch my arm. “How are ya hanging in there, kid?”
“I’m hanging.”
“Good, good.”
“Busted axle?” I pointed to the vehicle he had rolled out from under.
Tim’s smile spread from ear to ear. “Snapped clean in half.”
“They must have hit a pretty bad bump.”
“Kids these days wear their cars down to the bone until something breaks.”
“Chase, come save this poor girl from your father’s shop talk,” Beverly called.
“I don’t mind, really,” I reassured.
Chase finally emerged from the far corner of the garage. His hair was now smashed under a backwards baseball hat. His trademark grin spread across his face as he approached me.
“How was it? Not too bad, right?”
“They could barely get my arm to move, so we’re taking it slow.”
“Chase cried like a baby the first day of physical therapy!” Tim exclaimed.
Chase’s eyes widened. “I did not!”
“Alright, Tim. Back to work,” Beverly chuckled as she playfully pushed her husband. Tim wrapped his arms around her to give her a lingering kiss before she disappeared into the front office. They were sweet.
Chase waited until they were out of earshot. “Look, Merritt. I’m sorry I made you upset before. I just–”
I held my hand up to stop him. “It’s okay. I already forgot about it.”
He hesitated a moment, and then nodded.
“I love the way it smells in here.”
“You do?”
“It’s that kind of scent that reminds you of your childhood. It takes you back to a certain memory whenever you smell it.”
“Like old library books.”
“The ones with the yellowed plastic around the covers,” I agreed. Looking around, my eyes settled on a car covered by a tarp. “What’s under there?”
“Just a car that was dropped off for some body work.” He turned to face me. “Why don’t we grab lunch before I take you home?”
“No, thanks. I’m not really hungry.”
“You didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”
I shrugged. “I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“That’s not what I remember.”
