Page 97 of Dirty Mechanic
“You lied,” he says.
I try to explain, to scream.
But my voice is gone. I’m voiceless again. Trapped.
A hand clamps over my mouth from behind.
The orchard melts into flames.
The apple trees scream.
I jolt awake with a gasp, heart slamming against my ribs.
The RV is quiet. Derek’s still beside me, breathing slow and even. But my pulse won’t settle. My body remembers the dream too well.
I press my forehead to his shoulder, anchoring myself to the steady rhythm of his breath.
The next time I wake, sunlight slants through the RV window in warm, lazy stripes. I’m tangled in Derek’s arms.
My legs ache in the best way. My chest feels lighter than it has in weeks.
For a moment, I let myself pretend everything’s normal. That we’re just two people in love, lying in the bed where it all began.
The past behind us.
The future wide open.
But the second I shift, I feel the weight return.
Because it’s not over.
And we both know it.
Derek stirs behind me, arms tightening instinctively. “You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?” he mumbles into my hair.
I turn to face him. “Never again.”
His eyes open slowly. Soft. Guarded. “We good?”
I nod. “Are you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he cups my cheek, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “We’ll figure it out.”
“You said something last night,” I murmur. “That you’d marry me a thousand times over.”
He brushes my hair off my face and kisses my forehead. “And I meant every damn one.”
“What happened at the track yesterday?” I ask.
“I disconnected some wires in Mike’s car. I was hoping it would make him leave.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure that will make him leave. Honestly, I don’t know what will make him leave.”
“He’ll leave,” he says. “I’ll make sure he does.”
We lie there for a few more minutes, wrapped in the hush of morning, listening to the world wake around us. From the house comes the muffled sound of Bear and Kara barking.
After the required puppy kisses and a few belly rubs on the patio, we finally make our way into the house to shower and change. The soft squeal of puppies filters in from the laundry room, and we check in on the newborns too.
