Page 15 of It's Always Us

I avoid eye contact in the kitchen, but Grandpa’s way too observant eyes follow me as I pop a pod in the machine. He’s like an old coon dog, but instead of tracking rodents, he catches a scent in the wind and sniffs out a dip in my emotional state.

I reach into the fridge for creamer as he folds his paper, waiting. I peek at him out of the corner of my swollen eye. He folds his glasses and drops them in his shirt pocket, eyes dead set on me.

“What the hell happened?” His voice is set, ready to beat the crap out of someone.

I turn and face him, resting my butt against the counter. Having no fight left, I surrender. If there’s anyone I can tell about my late-night visitor, it’s this man. He took care of me after Mark left and has helped every day since.

I wrap my hands around my mug and hold it close to my chest for comfort. “Mark showed up at the shop last night. He thought I was getting married.”

“Sandberg?” He stares at me, waiting for confirmation. I nod. “Ha! It’s about damn time!” He claps his hands, a smile replacing the former severe concern. “What in the hell took him so long?”

“This isn’t good news,” I whisper as if someone will hear us.

“Like hell, it’s not! He’s the one you should’ve been marrying. He’s finally wised up and realized it, too. Did you tell him you called it off?”

My brows pull together, where a headache is gathering. “Grandpa, nothing has changed, except he made it. He’s living his dream. My life is here, and I still can’t . . . I’m only good at one thing, and that thing is here.”

“Bullshit. Cars that need fixing are everywhere, and your struggles never mattered to him.” His irritation is evident, but I ignore it.

“The shop is here, you’re here, and this is my life. You know as well as I do, I can’t just work somewhere else.”

“You also can’t live the rest of your life afraid of the world. I know it’s difficult, and people have a hard time understanding, but, Pal, I won’t be here forever.” He sets his empty mug on top of his paper. “The shop shouldn’t be your entire life. At some point, you have to let people in. Not everyone will disappoint you. You’re missing out on a whole world out there and a man who’d give up his throwing arm for you.”

I stare at the floor, unable to handle his words today. A mixture of rage and unbearable heartache erupts in my chest, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing steadily.

He comes to stand beside me, his shoulder rubbing against mine. I’d really like to shove his old ass, but I don’t because he loves me.

“I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks. You’re the smartest and bravest person I know. And . . . you’re one hell of a mechanic. You work circles around every one of the guys at the shop, and they know it. I didn’t teach you everything I know to hold you back. Quit limiting yourself. It’s ok to go see what’s out there.”

I swallow the massive growth in my throat. “Yeah, just like that. It’s not that easy.”

“Pal, life isn’t easy. You know that better than anyone, but it’s not as scary when you let people in who care about you. People who want to help and love you.” He reaches to put his mug in the sink. “Mark is one of those people. He’s giving you another chance. If you’re smart, you’ll take it. All that nonsense about nothing changing is a load of horse shit. Things have changed. You’ve changed, but that boy didn’t show up last night for anyone other than you.”

“After eight years? I’m not enough. I never have been,” I choke out.

He turns toward me. “Apparently, he disagrees. You’ve never been able to not love him, and I’ve watched how hard you’ve tried. Shit, you almost married the wrong guy. Maybe you should let yourself love the right one.” He points at me. “He came back for you.”

I grip the counter, hoping it will hold me together. “It’s not just about me. I won’t let—”

“More horse shit.” He raises his hand, stopping me. “I understand why you did what you did. Back then, I might have even agreed with you. But now, he’s a grown man. He’s strong and capable, and I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” He leans against the counter beside me. “You need to ask yourself if this is still about protecting him . . . or you.” The creases around his mouth deepen as he eyes me long and hard.

I can’t look at him. My shoulders sag, and I slump under the weight of his pointed question and stare.

He steps toward the back door but stops. “Did he sign the posters in my office?”

I suck back the tears that want to fall, my eyes burning with a fresh wave. “Seriously, that’s what you’re worried about?”

“Hell yes! Unless you get your head out of your ass, he’s not likely to come back.” He shakes his head, reaching for the door. “I’ll see you at the shop unless you decide to quit being a jackass.”

“Oh, thank you,” I sniff. “That’s helpful.”

“Best advice you’re likely to hear all day,” he winks, stepping out the back door and closing it behind him.

I sink into a chair at the table, pulling the invoice from my pocket. I unfold it, running my finger over the numbers.

Why now? Why, after all this time? Because he thought I was getting married?

I cradle my head in my arms, thinking about everything Grandpa said and letting people in. Mark laid his heart bare last night, and I have a good idea of how much that cost him. Despite space and time, I know him, and that kind of honesty and vulnerability was painful. The question is, what do I do about it?

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