Page 43 of In Every Chapter

Is your history of ‘accepting help makes me uncomfortable’ getting in the way? Juliet’s words looped in my brain like a broken record. She wasn’t far off base. That was the problem with best friends—they knew you all too well.

I’d spent the first eighteen years of my life doing things for myself and trying to hide my mom’s flaws in hopes that downplaying them would help me find stability. That if I got the perfect grade, kept the house clean, and worked to put food on the table, maybe she’d love me enough to change.

I wanted to believe my mom had tried her best because there were times she’d call me over to the couch after she woke up from a drinking binge, and she’d promise to do better with an “I’m so sorry, baby.”

But sorry only went so far. Especially when the actions never changed.

It was just a never-ending cycle of trying to find a man, drinking, and ending up heartbroken. All the while forgetting she had a little girl who needed her.

Promises from Lisa McBride were fragile as butterfly wings—easily crushed and broken.

After I met the girls and later Jared, I had reluctantly opened myself up to letting them help me. And I’d needed it because, hello, the dumpster fire of life.

“You good?” Greyson asked, parking in the front of the mechanic shop.

I blinked. Wow, I’d really been lost in my head. “Yup.” Heat crawled up my neck as I held his gaze.

With an understanding half smile, he jumped out and jogged around to my side to open the door.

Inside the shop, I breathed in the smell of oil and cleaner. Maybe needing help wasn’t so bad when you had someone worth relying on. Maybe.

A few of the guys working shot me concerned looks. The small-town gossip mill and The Vine were clearly in working order. That niggling feeling of annoyance I’d felt earlier over being treated like an invalid resurfaced. But I couldn’t fault their concern because it was kind of them. After a few hushed words from Greyson, they accepted me as a new shop feature.

Between me and Rosie Cotton, we were killing it in the mascot department.

Greyson brought out his comfy office chair and set it up in the corner out of the way so I could make myself at home and watch. He offered me the use of his office if I wanted a quiet place, but I didn’t want the company of my thoughts these days. I had books, a blanket, a neck pillow, a bubble tea, and an attractive view. What more could a girl want?

There was nothing quite like the sound of a ratchet. Don’t laugh. I knew it was weird, but something about the sound was soothing to my ears. And the view of Greyson using it wasn’t half bad either. He was very competent at his work.

Against the backdrop of shop noise and my foray into an incredibly addicting novel set in the PNW, Greyson talked on the phone with a supplier. “No, I need the AC condenser fan assembly.” Pause. “It’s for a 2018 Honda Accord with a 2L turbo charge.”

Nothing about that made any sense to me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was just making words up. Although I was convinced if I said, “I’m looking for a green leprechaun 1000 horseramp engine with twin piston cups and Scottish thrust,” he would know what I was talking about. Clearly I understood Elvish better than mechanic lingo.

“Pais?”

“Hmm?” I blinked rapidly, Greyson’s voice tugging me from my musings about elves and car parts.

“Need anything?” he asked, wiping his grease-stained hands on the rag he kept tucked into his coverall’s pocket.

“Nope. I’m good.”

He smirked. “I know you are, but that’s not what I asked.”

I rolled my eyes. “I need nothing.” My stomach chose that minute to emit a whale serenade of growls. “Okay, maybe lunch.”

“Want me to call in some takeout?”

“What are you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a sandwich from the deli?”

I fished out my sunshiny phone and waved it at him. “I can do that. Reuben on rye?”

Greyson fumbled the rag. “Yeah. You remember?”

Then I blinked. Did I? It had sorta just popped out before I could think about it. “I’m not sure. You just seemed like a rye-bread, no-frills guy.”

One of the other mechanics muffled an amused snort. I’d forgotten we had company.