The truck engine rumbles beneath us as we pull out of the harbor parking lot, neither of us speaking as the workweek falls away.
Jared sits with his elbow braced on the passenger window, afternoon sun striking his profile. My tool bag rests between us on the bench seat, the dragon toy wrapped in my spare flannel.
I take the coastal road, where the ocean reveals itself in flashes through the tree trunks. Salt-laden air pushes through the cracked windows, bringing with it pine and seaweed. The radio hums in the background, loud enough to discourage conversation.
My attention drops to my tool bag again, fingers itching to unwrap the figurine and assess thedamage. In my mind, I’ve already planned the repair. Wood glue, fine-grit sandpaper, and a touch of stain to match the color where the break occurred.
I haven’t been in my workshop the entire time Jared’s been living with me, and my list of donations to finish has piled up. I can knock out a couple of those this weekend, too.
“Third time,” Jared says, breaking into my thoughts.
I look over. “What?”
“That’s the third time you’ve checked your bag since we left the harbor.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Can’t help yourself, can you? Even off the clock, you’ve got something to fix.”
I can’t hide my flinch.
“Guess not.” I lift one shoulder in a half-shrug that does nothing to hide the strain creeping in. “Some of us don’t shut off when the clock does.”
Jared straightens a little, his easy smile fading as he studies me. “Hey, I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” I cut in, and the air between us shifts, the distance growing. “I know how it sounds. I’ve heard it before.”
His brow furrows. “Auren used to say that to you, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. He used to throw that at me a lot.” Ifocus on the road ahead and the shimmer of sunlight through the trees as I turn away from the coast to head toward home. “Said I cared more about my tools than about him. Claimed I worked so much because I didn’t want to come home.”
Jared’s quiet for a beat. “You were the one keeping the roof over your heads, right?”
“I was.” I wring the steering wheel. “Didn’t stop him from finding someone with more free time.”
Jared shifts closer, resting his forearm on the back of the seat. “There’s nothing wrong with how your brain works. When you spot a loose hinge, you tighten it. When you see a half-finished project, you bring it across the finish line. That’s not a flaw.”
I exhale, tension bleeding out. “Most people don’t see it that way.”
“Then they’re not looking closely enough.” His fingers brush my shoulder in brief contact before slipping away. “Besides, if you’re spending your weekend in the shop, I could always tag along. I’m no good at crochet, but I can at least keep you company and hand you the tools you need.”
I angle my head his way, startled. “You’d do that?”
“Sure. I enjoy watching you work.” His chintips toward the flannel-wrapped bundle between us. “What did Leif give you?”
“A wooden dragon.” I tap the brakes as the car ahead slows. “Quinn broke the wing.”
“Ah.” He shifts in his seat, his knee bumping my work bag. “And you volunteered to be a dragon doctor?”
“No, Quinn did,” I snort. “She told him I can fix anything.”
“Smart kid.” The words carry no teasing this time, just simple truth.
Traffic thickens as we approach town, forcing my attention to the road. The familiar rhythm of signals, turns, brakes, and acceleration soothes the week’s worth of tension. Concrete actions with predictable results, unlike the mess of emotions I’ve been wading through.
As we pass the row of shops on Main Street, Jared points to the Thai place on the corner. “Hungry? We could pick up dinner so you can get into your shop faster.”
My stomach answers with an audible growl, and Jared chuckles. I pull into a space half a block down.
“Pad Thai?” I ask, cutting the engine.
“And spring rolls.” He opens his door, thesound of street traffic washing in. “Maybe those curry puffs you liked last time.”