Page 31 of Vargan

The bedroom door opens, and Savvy appears in a t-shirt that barely reaches mid-thigh. Sleep-rumpled and smiling, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Morning," she says, crossing to me. She rises on tiptoe, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. No hesitation, no regret. Just warmth.

"Morning," I reply, my hands automatically finding her waist. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm." She leans into me, arms winding around my neck. "Better than I have in years."

I should tell her. About the call, about the new deadline, about how everything is about to change. But her lips find mine again, and the words die in my throat.

"I need to get to the diner," she murmurs against my mouth. "The breakfast rush will be starting."

"Right," I say, releasing her reluctantly. "I'll be here."

She steps back, her smile lingering. "I know."

She disappears into the bathroom, leaving me troubled by the certainty in her voice. She thinks I'm staying. That last night changed something.

And didn't it? The question haunts me as I dress, as I listen to the shower running, as I watch her emerge fresh-faced and glowing.

"I'll see you later?" she asks, pausing at the top of the stairs.

I nod, not trusting my voice. She grins before descending, and moments later, I hear the front door close behind her.

I check my phone again—no new messages. Twenty-four hours. Maybe less.

To distract myself, I turn to what I know best—work. There's a loose section of shingles on the roof I noticed yesterday. The gutter on the west side of the house needs securing. Willie's truck still needs a final check before it's road-ready.

I throw myself into each task with single-minded focus, hoping physical exertion will quiet my restless thoughts. It doesn't work. Every hammer strike, every turn of the wrench feels like marking time—counting down the hours until I leave.

By mid-afternoon, I've finished the roof and the gutter. The April sun beats down mercilessly as I work under the hood of the old Ford, making final adjustments. The engine purrs now—not perfect, but solid. Reliable. Something Willie and Savvy can depend on when I'm gone.

The distant rumble of a diesel engine catches my attention. I straighten, wiping sweat from my brow as I watch the school bus lumber down the road, stopping at the corner.

Willie hops off, backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes find me immediately, widening when he sees the truck with its hood up.

"No way!" he calls, jogging across the yard. "You got it running?"

I close the hood with a satisfying thunk. "Take a listen."

Sliding into the driver's seat, I turn the key. The engine roars to life, settling into a steady rumble. Willie's face breaks into a grin wider than I've seen since I arrived.

"That's awesome!" He circles the truck, running his hand reverently along the faded blue paint. "Does it drive?"

"Why don't you find out?" I leave the driver’s side door open and motion for him to sit.

He blinks in surprise. "Seriously?"

"It's your truck, isn't it?" I step out, gesturing to the driver's seat. "Just around the yard for now. You've got your learner's permit, right?"

Willie nods, eyes gleaming with excitement as he climbs into the truck. I fold into the passenger seat, showing him where the gears are, explaining the clutch pedal.

"Easy on the gas," I instruct as the engine revs. "Let the clutch out slowly."

The truck lurches forward, nearly stalling, but Willie adjusts quickly. We make a slow circuit of the yard, his confidence growing with each turn.

"This is so sick!" he exclaims, hands gripping the wheel tightly. "Wait till my friends see this."

"Your sister's coming," I note, spotting Savvy crossing the street from the diner, her face unreadable as she watches us.

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