Page 3 of Lovingly Restored

“I’m not ready.”

I pull my collar tight around my neck, steeling myself for the onslaught, and make a beeline for the truck. Water beads off my jaw-length hair, delivering the cold rainwater right against my nape.

“I’ve heard that before.” Chris follows. “Listen, man, I don’t want to talk bad about him because he’s your family-”

“Never stopped you before.”

He waves me off. “Your dad is an ass, Isaac. It’s like he holds a special place in his heart for being douchey to you.”

I catch my truck door as the wind tries to wrench it from my grasp.

“You don’t think I know that?”

We both climb in our vehicles and start them up, rolling down the windows to continue the conversation without the shower.

Chris holds up his hands in peace, raising his voice so I can hear him over the rain pounding against our roofs. “I’m sorry. I think this could be good for you.”

“It’s good that I got fired? Thanks.” I grip the steering wheel.

“Not today. Hell, the next few months could really hurt. But you two aren’t meant to work together.”

“You can say that again,” I call, rolling up my window and driving away.

Falling into a job with Forward after trade school was a no brainer, but the idea of working for myself has been swirling in the back of my mind for years. My mood matches the weather as I drive through the downpour, soaking in self-pity. The forest is thick on each side of the two-lane road. Tall conifers stretching up into the sky, thriving in the wet conditions, swaying ominously in each powerful gust of wind. On the outskirts of the small city of West Isle, it’s easy to imagine I’m the only person on the road as I barrel down a straight stretch and try to leave some of my shit behind me. A brief flash catches my eye, but vanishes just as fast. I ease off the gas and run a hand down my face. It was probably a deer. Their glowing eyes are usually the last things you see before they go barrelling across the road right in front of your car. But then something comes into view, an outline of a small vehicle. I suck in a sharp breath, stomping my heavy boot on the brake.

“Shit!”

The anti-lock brakes kick in, and I skid across the slippery section of road. When I come to a stop, the only sounds in the cab are my shaky breaths and the pelting rain. Through the windshield, mere inches from my bumper, is the tail end of a tiny red hatchback, barely pulled off the road, blocking most of my lane. The death grip I had on the steering wheel leaves imprints of the leather stitching on my palms.

“Way too close.”

As if nature knows I’m about to leave the safety of the truck, the rain intensifies into an all out deluge, overwhelming the whooshing wipers. I switch on my hazards and set out to see if the car is empty. Based on the way it’s sitting there dark and quiet like it’s part of the scenery, it’s probably abandoned. As soon as my steel-toed boots reach the ground, the driver’s side door flies open and a person stumbles out. The shadowy outline faces me, hesitates for all of three seconds, then marches in my direction with determination. Rain falls through the beams of my bright truck lights, blurring my vision. A petite, pretty, andverypissed woman is headed straight for me. Her eyes are narrowed, strides long, and before I can say anything, she launches a full force verbal attack.

“What in the ever-lovinghelldo you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by the strength of her voice, I stare down at her.

“Driving. In a straight line.”

She’s acting like I’m out here performing stunt moves instead of simply going home after work.

“You almost hit me, you ass! You need toslowdown.“ She emphasises her last two words with sharp pokes to my sternum.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I warn, taking a step back.

She follows, ignoring my words. “And another thing…” The tip of her finger digs into my chest again, right between two ribs.

Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be?

“No. No morethings.“ I catch the wrist of the arm she keeps assaulting me with, holding it firm against my chest. Her skin is freezing cold like she’s been out here for a while.

Her mouth pops open, like maybe she’s used to telling people what’s what. Like nobody ever bothered talking back to her before.

“Your lights aren’t working. That, or you forgot to turn them on. Either way, that’s pretty stupid.”

“They work fine…usually. It broke down.”

“Usually doesn’t really cut it–”

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