Page 47 of To Belong Together
The car growled at his low speed on the way out of the driveway. On the road, John accelerated, his pulse ticking quicker. By the time he made it out of the woods and onto a clear, straight stretch, his left arm ached. He loosened his fingers from the fist they’d formed.
“Smooth sailing from here.” If he believed that, he wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but driving did get easier with each mile. Finally, he pulled into the Hirsh Auto parking lot.
Erin’s beater was parked off to the side. He steered that direction, intending to enter the shop through the side door to avoid advertising his presence. But as he angled into the stall, he spotted her in the driver’s seat. He rolled down his passenger’s side window.
She peered at him, expression blank. No, not blank. Her lips and eyes were angled with sad tension. She turned her focus toward her steering wheel as she cranked down her window.
His anxiety over the drive and his concerns about how she’d receive him receded. “What’s wrong?”
Her throat shifted with a swallow. Talkative Erin had gone silent.
“Okay, look.” He paused. He shouldn’t do this from the car.
He pushed open his door and circled to stand at her window.
Still, she stared at her steering wheel.
Concern drummed a cadence his hands longed to follow by reaching out to her. What had he happened upon? And how could he get her talking?
“Can we start over? Clean slate?”
She ran her fingers through her hair, but the short waves sprang back into place across her forehead. “Okay.”
It shouldn’t be that easy. He was benefitting from whatever had her emotions so jumbled, but he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. Did that make him a mercenary? Did he care? “Want to help me car shop?”
Surprise lifted some of the misery from her expression, and she focused on him. “When?”
Friday night through Sunday, he’d be home for the wedding and related events. “I’d like to go to Montclair. I can’t Saturday or Sunday. Maybe next weekend?”
“I worked last Saturday, so I’m off Friday.” She bit her lip, averting her gaze again. “Unless you’re working.”
“No. Taking some time off.” He didn’t miss drumming, and packing his schedule would give him less time to question why. If they shopped Friday morning, he could have just enough time to drive south again to Fox Valley, a city neighboring Montclair, for the rehearsal dinner. “Friday works if we start early. Eight?”
She shrugged and nodded.
“I’ll pick you up. Address?” Why wouldn’t she look at him? If she’d make eye contact and throw him a smile, he’d feel a lot less like he was taking advantage of whatever had upset her.
She recited her address and phone number, and he typed both into his contacts.
“Okay.” He winced. This was terrible. “Hey, Erin?”
Finally, she peered up at him, dark eyeliner a contrast to the wide whites of her sad eyes.
“Can you step out?” And now he sounded like a cop. This was going from bad to worse.
Frowning, she tucked her keys in her pocket, rolled up her window, and climbed from the car. She adjusted her shoulders under the Hirsh Auto jacket as if she didn’t know how to stand up straight anymore.
“What’s going on?”
She gulped, eyes angled toward the low, worn billboard at the edge of the property. “Family stuff. Nothing.”
Family stuff.Tell me about it.“Your uncle’s not firing you.”
“It’s not about work.”
And because of Kate, he understood how much else could be at stake in a family. “I’m sorry.”
Her brows pulled together over the tears forming in her eyes.
