Page 6 of Burden to Bear

Brock’s brows shot up in surprise. “Wow. That sounds like a lot.”

I shrugged. “Not so much. I love the work I do, and if you haven’t already noticed, I have no problem with conversation at all.”

He chuckled and said, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Sorry,” I murmured.

“Don’t be. I think it’s great.”

I smiled brightly at him, feeling thankful I had such a nice guy living next door to me. “Thanks. So, what about you? Out running errands today?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Same as you. I’m just getting home from work.”

My brows pulled together. “What?”

“It surprises you that I work?”

“No. No, of course not. It’s just that… well, I thought you worked from home,” I said.

Brock laughed again, and I wondered if the redness I saw on his cheeks was the result of being in the cold or something else. “I only work from my garage on the weekends,” he explained. “That’s sort of a side gig I have.”

“Oh, wow. So, what do you do during the week?”

“I’m a CNC machinist for a machine shop here in Charter Oak. I run five different machines in the shop, which are almost constantly running, producing a wide variety of products ranging from automotive part components to specialty hardware for construction. There’s a whole lot in between and around that.”

“So, it’s kind of like what you do here at home, then?” I pressed.

“Yes and no. It’s machining, so it’s still the same in that sense, but what I do at my regular job is mostly to fulfill bulk orders from large contracts that are being shipped all over the place. The stuff I do here is generally one-off custom stuff for locals who are usually in a bind.”

“That’s great. You must love what you do, which I think is the best way to be. I feel the same about my job.”

“I can’t say I disagree. How’s the unpacking coming along?”

I glanced briefly at my house before returning my attention to Brock. “It’s a very slow, exhausting process. I told you I love my job, but I was so tired at work today. I don’t even know how I’m going to muster up the strength to make dinner tonight.”

A silence had fallen between us, but Brock’s eyes were roaming over my face as something was working behind his gaze. A beat later, he said, “Listen, it’s cold out, and we’ve both just gotten home from work. You just said you’re exhausted. If you really don’t want to cook but can muster up the strength to have some conversation, I’d be more than happy to have you over for din?—”

Brock stopped speaking when his attention was pulled away from me and out into the street just a few feet away, where a car had started to turn into my driveway.

Todd had arrived.

He was attempting to speak to me through the windshield, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. And since I wanted to introduce him to Brock, I waved at him to get out of the car.

Todd got out, slammed his car door, and said, “Can you pull your car in, Mia? I can’t get in the driveway.”

“Come here,” I urged him. “I want to introduce you to my new neighbor.”

It was then Todd noticed Brock and made his approach. Once he made it to where Brock and I were standing, I said, “Todd, this is Brock. He lives next door to me here. Brock, this is my boyfriend, Todd.”

For the first time since Todd arrived, I’d returned my attention to Brock, and I noticed something different about him. It was as though he’d pulled a mask on, because he wasn’t nearly as happy as he’d been before. That’s when it dawned on me that he had just been about to ask me to join him for dinner.

Shaking off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, he extended his hand to Todd, who begrudgingly shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Brock,” Todd said.

Brock simply offered a nod in return.

Yep.

He was not the same guy he’d been on Saturday or even just moments ago, and I wondered why that was.

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