Page 6 of Grumpy on the Mountain
"Not my problem," I mutter, but even I don't believe it.
"She needs help with her car," Betty continues, undeterred by my clear stubbornness. "Broke down right as she got to town."
I clench my jaw. "There are mechanics in Stone River."
"In this storm? They're all closed up tight." Betty's voice drops lower. "And that girl's running from something. Or someone."
That gets my attention.
Riley. She's running from Riley.
Something cold and hard settles in my gut. I know exactly what my brother is capable of. There's a reason I have nothing to do with assholes like him anymore.
But if they broke up…
"She says her sister lives here," Betty adds, watching my face carefully. "Sienna Wright. With the little girl?"
I know Sienna. I'm always at her house fixing shit because her husband is away for work. Quiet woman. Good kid.
"I'm not a mechanic," I grunt.
Betty smiles like she's already won. "No, you're a good man who doesn't like to admit it." She picks up a coffee pot and gestures toward Molly's table. "Now come meet our visitor properly."
I know I should say no. Should finish my business with Betty and get the hell out of here before I get any more involved in whatever chaos Riley left in his wake.
But I can't stop looking at her car through the window, half-buried in snow. At her ridiculous suitcase with its broken wheel. At the exhaustion written across her face.
"Fine," I finally say, the word scraping out of my throat. "I'll take a look at her car."
Betty beams. "I knew you would."
My feet feel like they're cemented to the floor. Meeting Molly means questions. Means explaining who I am. Means opening the door to a past I've spent years building walls against.
"But that's it," I add firmly. "I'm not getting involved in... whatever this is."
Betty pats my arm, her eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes me want to walk straight back into the blizzard.
If there's one thing I've learned from war, it's that you can't outrun destiny. You can only prepare for the damage it brings.
Etta looks up as I stomp over behind Betty and practically launches herself from her seat.
"Oh, Beau! Thank God you're here. This poor girl's car is deader than my second husband."
She clutches my arm like I'm the last helicopter out of a combat zone.
Mabel follows, nodding vigorously. "Stopped right at the town line. Divine intervention, if you ask me."
"Nobody asked you," I mutter, but Mabel continues as if I hadn't spoken.
As she talks, I steal another glance at Molly, who's now standing awkwardly by her table, fiddling with the zipper of her useless coat.
She looks nothing like the confident teenager who used to trail after Riley with stars in her eyes. That Molly had sun-kissed skin and easy laughter. This one looks haunted, hollowed out.
What the hell did you do to her, Riley?
"Look, ladies. I build shit," I say flatly. "Not fix engines. I'm not your guy."
"Language young man," Etta chides, swatting my arm.
