Page 74 of Where We Call Home

That scared me. I was good at compartmentalizing sex and intimacy. To me, they were two entirely separate things. But being cared for? That set my heart on fire and left me teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff.

The rumble of a truck pulling up snapped me out of my thoughts. A flatbed trailer attached, it backed carefully toward the front of my car. Boone hopped out of the driver’s seat, and Rhodes emerged from the passenger side.

I swung my legs out of the car and waited as Rhodes approached. Boone had already popped the hood and was inspecting the engine, smoke curling out in thin wisps.

“How are you holding up?” Rhodes asked, hands on his hips, head tilted.

“I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Maybe the tear stains on my cheeks gave me away.

Huffing, I rolled my eyes. “I’m afraid the car can’t be fixed. I don’t think I can handle that.”

He nodded, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he extended his hand. I placed my fingers in his palm, and he squeezed gently, pulling me out of the metaphorical hole I was stuck in.

When I stood, he wrapped his arms around me, pressing my face against his chest.

“We’ll get it fixed,” he promised.

I hoped he understood the weight of that vow. This wasn’t only about a car—it was about the memories tied to it.

“We’ll have to tow it back to your house,” Boone said, walking over to us and wiping his greasy hands on his jeans.

“Thanks for coming to help, Boone.” I offered him a small smile, which he returned with a nod.

“You got it—whatever you need,” he said, pulling me into a quick side hug. “We’ll get her up and running.”

Boone and Rhodes had dropped everything to come to my rescue. They didn’t treat it like an inconvenience or burden; instead, they brought comfort and calm, assuring me it would all be okay.

The people I’d grown close to here in Faircloud weren’t part of the insecure, disconnected past I’d left behind. These friendships were genuine, transformative. I’d found family here—a support system beyond my mom.

If I thought too much about how incredible they were, I’d start crying again.

“Maybe we should take it to Gus’s shop?” I suggested, hesitant.

“He’s out of town,” Rhodes reminded me. “The car would sit outside until he got back—and who knows when he’d have time to fix it?”

“Gus has always worked on this car. I trust him.”

“I get that,” Boone said, stepping in. “But I really think it’s better off at Rhodes’ place for now. When the shop opens, I’ll bring the trailer back, and we can take it there if we need to.”

I glanced between the two of them. I wanted to trust their judgment, but my stomach twisted in knots.

“We’re going to load her up, okay? Do you trust me?” Rhodes asked, his voice soft and reassuring.

I nodded reluctantly.

“Let’s get you into the truck,” he said. “Do you want the front or the back seat?”

“The back,” I mumbled.

Rhodes guided me to Boone’s truck and opened the door, helping me climb in. I sat with a heavy weight in my chest. Guilt gnawed at me—had I neglected something with the car? Had I forgotten to check the oil? That wasn’t like me. I prided myself on being responsible, but now I felt the sting of doubt.

Outside, Boone and Rhodes worked efficiently, loading Betsy onto the trailer and securing her in place. It probably only took twenty minutes, but my anxious thoughts made it feel like an eternity.

The drive back home was silent. I stayed in the back seat, lost in my spiraling emotions. Once we arrived, Boone helped me down from the truck. Without a word, I walked inside and plopped onto the couch.

There was more to how I was feeling, a deeper ache.

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