Page 69 of Right Place, Right Time (Second Chances)
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jay
One month later…
“How long is it gonna take you to finish that clutch?” Sean asks from the other side of the bay.
“When did you become such a nag?” I retort.
“When you started taking three hours to do an hour job.”
I drop my tools to the ground and wipe the sweat off my brow. He’s right, I should have been finished with this two hours ago. But I can’t fucking concentrate because a certain brown-eyed girl is dancing around in my mind.
Kate.
I can’t get her out of my head. The moment I’d arrived back in South Carolina and unpacked my stuff in my old bedroom at Mac’s place, I realized what a mistake I’d made.
I miss her. I miss her so fucking bad.
I’m such an idiot. I was such an asshole to her, all because I thought I’d known what was best for her. She’s been living with herself her whole life, surely her opinion on what was best for her should have factored in somewhere. I’m such a stubborn, foolish asshole.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, walking over to my station.
“Not really.”
“Why don’t you just call her? Tell her you’re sorry and beg for forgiveness.”
“What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ didn’t you understand, asshole?” I pick up my tools again and start working. I’ve only got about ten more minutes of work to do, if I actually work and quit daydreaming about Kate and all my mistakes.
In my periphery, I see Sean shaking his head. “Look, you need to get out of your head, man. It’s one thing when you channel that shit into your work, but it’s another when it gets in the way of your work.”
I take a deep breath in and then let it out. “You gonna fire me?”
“Fuck, no,” he says, and I breathe a little easier. Right now, this job in Sean’s repair shop is the only thing keeping me together. The only thing keeping me from riding my sorry ass back to California to do exactly what he said…beg Kate for forgiveness. Either that or ride my bike right off a bridge—that’s my other option.
“I just wish you’d talk to me, bro. You haven’t said much of anything since you’ve been back.”
“Not much to say.”
“Bullshit.”
I tighten the final bolt and start cleaning up my area, ignoring Sean.
“Aren’t you going to see if that works?”
“I replaced a clutch, Sean. It’s not like it was an engine rebuild.”
“You’d think it was the way you were drag-assing it.”
I slam the drawer of my tool chest and spin around to face him. “What the fuck is your problem?” I want to slap the smug grin right off his face.
“Now that’s more like it,” he says, nodding his head. “Show some emotion. Let me know you’re still alive in there.”
“I’m fuckin’ alive, all right?”
He watches me for a minute, then says, “Sweep the floors, asshole. Then we’re going to Harry’s. No arguments.”
I roll my eyes as I nod, knowing there’s no way out of it. I toss my grease stained rag onto the counter top and grab the broom, making quick work of the shop floors while Sean closes up the office. He’d opened this place about three years ago, while I was in prison. It was always his hope that we’d work here together. Now we are, although I think we’d both hoped the circumstances would be different.
