The hum of the garage light. Hints of musky cologne. The breeze ruffling my hair.
I’m suddenly exhausted. I don’t want to fight with this man anymore. It’s no longer entertaining.
“What’s your name?” I ask him quietly.
“Kade Dixon,” His voice is still raspy but much calmer than before.
“Nice to meet you, Kade. I’m Becca.”
Kade arches an eyebrow. “Rebecca?”
“Not if you want to live to see morning, dude.”
A hint of a smile peeks through before he flattens his mouth. “Becca,” he says, “you can’t sleep out here.”
This again. I think I get where he’s coming from. But I just can’t seem to give in on this. I won’t have him pay my way. That’s not going to fucking happen.
“We’re at a bit of an impasse, Kade. You don’t want me here. And I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Well, that’s not technically true, but the idea of calling up one of my acquaintances and begging for a spot on their couch isn’t that appealing right now. I don’t want to reminisce about Dad. I don’t want to talk about the good old days or replay the end for them. I want to put all the pain and the tears away for now. Later I’ll pull them out again. When I can’t avoid them any longer.
I see him building up another head of steam and raise my hand.
“What do you really want, Kade?”
He pulls his head back in confusion. “I’ve already fucking told you. I want you gone.”
“Okay…but I offered to pull off your driveway. You didn’t seem to like that plan. I mean…REALLY didn’t like that plan.” I leave off theyou roared at me like a rabid lionpart, even though I have a serious urge to poke at him some more.
I haven’t had a conversation like this in nearly a year. An interaction that didn’t involve measured words, apologies, or awkward, sad silences. It’s freeing, talking to someone who doesn’t seem to give a fuck about what I think. Or what I’ve been through.
“You’re not fucking safe sleeping in your car. That’s a stupid fucking plan.”
I have to admire his ability to insertfuckinto nearly every sentence. I know a few mechanics, most of them love the word too, but he truly is the cream of the crop.
“It’s a little stupid,” I admit, “but it’s not even in the top five stupid things I’ve done this week.” I shake my head at the shit show this week has been. “I’ll be okay.”
He doesn’t look convinced. Not even a little bit. I can see him thinking about ways he can get me to do what he wants. I should save him the trouble, explain to him that a bulldozer couldn’t move me if I don’t want to be moved, but what would be the fun in that?
Huh. Maybe I’m not tired of fucking with him.
Finally, he sighs, shoving his hands through his hair. “You won’t go to a motel.” I shake my head no, holding back the smile that wants to escape.
“There’s no point. It’ll be morning in…five hours.” He grunts then turns and walks away, unlocking the door to the office and disappearing inside. “Nice meeting you too,” I mutter, a little flustered by the abrupt exit.
It’s actually a bit of a letdown. I was really liking the protective, grumpy act he had going on, but I guess it wore thin. Most guys I know back home would be more likely to come to me for protection, than to be protective. I shrug off my disappointment and slide back into the car. It’s probably best if I move it off his property, anyway.
The screech of the overhead doors startles me. Through my windshield, I see Kade’s powerful body silhouetted as he leaves the bay and heads toward me. My stomach gives a happy flip; he didn’t wash his hands of me after all.
He stops at my still-open door.
“Foot on the brake, turn the key on.” I follow his instructions. Maybe I should ask what the plan is, but I honestly don’t care. He didn’t walk away, and I’m too happy about that to question my sudden good luck. I’m due, anyway.
“Foot in,” he grunts.
I lift my foot off the pavement and tuck it in, a little puzzled. I hoped we were going to push it into the garage, but maybe we’re just going to let it roll back down the slight incline? Maybe he does want me parked on the street.
I shake my head at my foolish hopes, then shift the car into neutral. He cranks down my window, muttering under his breath, then shuts my door and puts his hand on the steering wheel, his other hand on the frame.