“I don’t know, Mags,” he said. “I just think you need to be careful.”
“I live in a veritable fortress, surrounded by burly protective relatives willing to kill for me. And not to mention, I sort of kick ass myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re not invincible,” Caleb argued.
“Fine. If I see a rabbit dressed in camo trying to jimmy the screen door with a hunting knife, I’ll call for help.”
“Somehow I get the feeling you’re not taking me very seriously.” He sighed.
“And you would be right,” I told him. “But I will keep an eye out, I promise, just to humor you.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Caleb kept me on the phone for another twenty minutes, asking about various relatives, which meant he had to be worried. He tried to avoid talking on the phone whenever possible. I hung up, unsure what to think. How likely was it that someone had tampered with my brakes?
I shrugged out of my jacket and slid under the frame. There were clods of dirt, pine needles, and dead grass spotting the worn chrome. I inched my way under the axle . . . and realized I didn’t know nearly as much about big engines as I thought I did. I recognized the bottom of the transmission and the fuel line. I found the brake drum and followed the thumb’s-width plastic rope with my fingertips. It was smooth and unmarked until it reached the point lowest to the ground. I frowned. It wasn’t cut, exactly, but it was definitely damaged. And the tear didn’t look like something that would occur over a long period of time. As far as I could tell, I’d hit some debris on the road and ripped it myself, which wasn’t surprising, considering the tumble the truck took off the road.
I leaned closer to inspect the rupture in the line and picked up the faint scent of dryer sheets, the sort of clean, floral fabric-softener stuff my mom was always using. I chuckled. Wesley didn’t look like the April Fresh type. But maybe he had a concerned she-weasel mate at home.
I heard two of my older uncles arguing loudly between their front stoops over a borrowed power tool. Apparently, they’d decided to use other power tools to settle the dispute, so I crawled out from under the truck. Distracted by senior citizens armed with band saws and extension cords, I abandoned my defunct vehicle and didn’t give the brakes another thought.
NICK SENT ME a freaking apology pie.
Several, in fact. First, it was apple-raisin, then Mo’s famous chess pie, then French silk, each delivered to my door every day by my decreasingly bemused sister-in-law.>He looked offended. “I bother you?”
“A lot.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“How would you know?”
“Because if you were really upset with me, you probably would have dreamed me with a hump or a debilitating, itchy disease.”
“Well, you’re not wrong,” I muttered. “So, what, you think you can show up here and put in a good word for reality Nick?”
He shrugged. “How should I know? It’s your happy place.”
I muttered, “Well, you could at least do this with your shirt off. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I think there are probably some things you left unsaid earlier, and your brain is just giving you a chance to get it out of your system.”
“No, that couldn’t be it.”
“Fine,” he huffed, pulling his T-shirt over his head.
My eyes went wide at the sight of finely sculpted abs lightly dusted with a little gold happy trail. “God, this is going to be so much worse if you look like that in real life.”
“Oh, it’s even better,” he assured me.
“Bastard.” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have to lie to you. And I’m sorry I have to make you feel crazy or unsure of yourself. I wish I could help you, but I just can’t. As much as I think you could mean to me, I can’t put you ahead of the people I love. You are a smart, funny, strange, drop-dead-gorgeous man. And I would like nothing more than to get to know you a hell of a lot better. But I think it’s better this way.”
“But none of that had anything to do with you, or you being a wolf, or how you feel. It’s about everybody else.”
“Exactly.”
“So your reasons are bullshit. You’re so afraid of expressing how you really feel that you’ll use any excuse to stay away from me. You’ve never had someone interested in you and only you. And you’re so afraid that’s not enough to keep me around that you’ll do anything to avoid finding out one way or the other.”
“I don’t think my figments are supposed to mouth off to me,” I grumbled.