Page 63 of What We Broke

“I haven’t left the house to drink,” I tell him. What I don’t add is that there have been one or two days where I have managed not to drink at all. There is a vulnerable part of me that wants recognition and praise every time I make a change, but the cynic in me chooses to hold back, certain that it doesn’t matter, because nothing will really change.

He nods, and I allow him to read between the lines and make his own assumptions about what that means and whether he thinks it’s good or bad.

Gio’s phone pings and I can tell by the look on his face as he glances down at the screen he has to get back to work.

When he looks back up at me, I raise a hand to stop the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “Do not apologize for going back to work, you are not my keeper.”

He purses his lips together and shakes his head. “Okay, but what are you going to do for the rest of the day?”

I shrug. “I’m a big boy, I can figure it out.”

* * *

I had been walkingfor an hour, my skin sweaty, my feet aching. I’m not one for physical exertion, especially lately, but once I realized how close I was to Jesse’s work, I didn’t want to stop.

It’s usually a fifteen minute drive between the two places, but since driving isn’t in my plans for the foreseeable future, this seemed like a good idea at the time.

But now that I’m here, and out of breath, I realize this was probably the dumbest idea I’ve had today. He doesn’t want to see me, not here of all places. This is his space without me, where he probably doesn’t have to worry about everything else going on at home.

“Leo.” I turn my head to the sound of my name to see Deacon, Jesse’s boss, getting out of his car and walking toward me. He smiles, wide and genuine. “It’s so good to see you.” Holding out his hand, he tips his head to the garage. “I’m guessing you’re here to see Jesse?”

I shake his hand. “Yeah. If that’s okay? I was just in the area,” I answer awkwardly.

“Of course. Of course.” He leads me to the customer entrance of the garage and I follow him inside.

It’s a nice sized seating area, carpeted, with a few wooden coffee tables and chairs scattered around for people as they wait to pick up their cars.

There’s a desk directly opposite the door that usually has their receptionist, Demi, sitting behind it, but today it’s empty.

The office phone starts ringing and Deacon groans. “Sorry, give me a second. Demi moved to Colorado and it’s chaos without her.”

I watch him walk behind the desk, phone still in hand, and flip through what looks to be an appointment book. About two minutes pass when he puts a hand over the receiver and glances at the door that leads to the main garage. “Go on in,” he says. “Jesse will be easy to spot, just watch yourself if you can.”

I offer a nervous smile as he resumes his phone call, and I push open the heavy glass door.

The smells and sounds of cars permeate the air around me, the tinkering of metal on metal echoes off the large garage walls.

My eyes dance around the area, mindful of my presence in a potentially hazardous place.

When a familiar dark brown head of hair pops out from underneath a hood, my heart starts to beat wildly with every step.

In another life, I did this all the time.

In another life, I wouldn’t feel like jumping out of my skin at the prospect of surprising my husband at work.

“Leo?”

So caught up in my own head, I don’t realize he’s already noticed me. His eyes are wide and full of panic, and it hits me just how different spontaneity looks like after you’ve suffered through a trauma.

Almost like anything unexpected would forever be bad news.

I answer his unspoken question,needingto ease his panic. “Everything’s fine. I just finished seeing Gio and thought I would come to see you too.”

His shoulders visibly relax, but I don’t miss the confusion that now settles in his gaze. It hurts to see, but not as much as the residual trauma he too is keeping bottled inside.

“Do you have time for a break?” I ask.

He glances past me, and I lower my head to my chest to avoid seeing whatever exchange goes on between him and the person behind me.

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