Chapter Three
Erick wiped the grease from his hands for the
second time, even though they were already clean. The garage was quiet—just the
low hum of the radio and the occasional creak from the cooling engine in the
corner bay.
But his thoughts were anything but still.
She was really here.
After all this time, after all the reasons not to
be—Aliza Hart was back in Maplewood, standing in his garage
like the last decade hadn't happened. Like she hadn't disappeared with barely a
goodbye. Like she hadn't taken something vital with her when she left.
He leaned against the workbench, staring at the
coffee mug he hadn't touched since she walked in.
"Rough day?" a voice asked from the doorway.
Mason, his best friend since high
school, strolled in holding a takeout bag from Carol's Diner. Erick didn't
answer right away.
"She came in," he said finally.
Mason raised a brow. "She? As in—"
"Yeah."
"Damn. That's sooner than I thought."
"She needs her mom's car fixed," Erick muttered,
grabbing the mug and finally taking a sip. Cold. Bitter. Perfect.
Mason dropped the bag on the desk and sat down.
"You okay?"
Erick shrugged. "I don't know. Feels like she
never left. And also like it's been a lifetime."
"It kind of has."
He didn't say what he was really thinking—that she
looked stronger, but tired. That the way her voice broke a little when she said
"Back then" made something in him unravel.
"I didn't ask about her life," Erick said.
Mason gave him a knowing look. "You didn't want to
know, or you didn't want to care?"
"Both," he said. But the words didn't sit right in
his mouth.
He did care. Still. Against all reason.
"You should talk to her," Mason offered.
"What good would that do?"
"Maybe none. Or maybe it's exactly what you both
need."
Erick exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that felt
like it had been trapped for years.
He'd thought he was done bleeding over her.
But now she was here, and the wound was open all
over again.