Page 105 of Truck You

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I stareat my phone with my thumbs hovering over the keypad.

It’s a slow morning, and I’m alone in the garage. Liam is running errands. Christian had to drive to Kentucky to pick up a bike he agreed to restore, and Chase and Ash are at the track testing a new engine they just finished rebuilding.

I have no clue where Mac is. I’ve not asked, and his brothers haven’t offered any news. We’re all avoiding the topic of our breakup.

If I wanted to talk to Mac in privacy, now is the time. Assuming he responds to my messages. Messages he can’t read unless I send them.

“Staring at it won’t make it do anything.” I jump at the sound of Grams’ voice. My hand jerks and my phone flies up. I scramble to catch it before it falls on the hard concrete floor. Once it’s secure in my grip, I press it to my pounding chest.

“You startled me.”

A wide grin covers Grams’ face. “I see that. Been standing here for a few minutes. You’re lost to yourself. Wanna talk about it?”

My mouth gapes open as I stare at her. Grams never comes out to the garage. Like ever. Her grandsons always go to her, not the other way around.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” Even I hear the lie in the sound of my voice.

Grams scoffs. “Well, if that isn’t the worst line of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Anyone with eyes and ears can see you’re not fine.”

My eyes widen and my head jerks back at the fierceness of her words. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She’s not wrong, and I can’t bring myself to tell another person I’m fine when I’m nowhere near fine.

She lets out a deep sigh. “Deary, you don’t have to tell me. I know what my grandson did. What I want to know is what you plan on doing about it?”

“Me?” I point to myself. “Why does everyone expect me to fix this? He broke up with me. Not the other way around.”

She waves her hand at me like what I said is meaningless. “Believe me when I say he regrets it. Boy’s been an intolerable bear ever since.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. “What’s new? He’s always an intolerable bear.”

Grams tosses her head back and laughs like I just told the funniest joke she’s ever heard. “Ain’t that the damn truth? Then again, most of my grandsons are intolerable bears. The fact that you know and accept that about Mac is why we have to fix this.”

I sigh, ready to concede. “If I knew how, I would. If he’d show his face and give us a chance to talk, it’d help. But I haven’t seen him. He’s hiding.”

“Yeah, he’s good at that. Love is wonderful, but it’s also the seed that feeds the worst pain we can feel. And that boy is in some serious pain. Pain I’m not convinced he’s ever felt before, and he’s struggling. And that’s saying something because his pain runs deep and spans a lifetime.”

“I know about his mother,” I whisper.

“Then you understand his heart.” She pauses as if she’s waiting for me to respond. I nod and that’s all the confirmation she needs to continue. “And it’s not just his mother. It’s all their mothers. My grandsons have only ever seen broken love. I lost my love before any of them could see a good example. Lord knows my Paul hasn’t given them one. Sadly, it’s left all my grandsons afraid of love. Especially Mac. His poor heart is trapped and suffocated by his fear. Not that he’d ever admit it. I’m afraid his heart doesn’t know what to do with this excess love he’s been getting from you.”

She walks up to the car I’ve been working on and picks up the busted fuel injector I removed this morning. “Think of him like this car you’re working on. The engine can’t burn all the excess gas it’s getting because of a bad fuel injector. Fix the fuel injector and the engine can breathe just fine again. My grandson’s the same way.”

“I’m not following. I mean, I get the flooded engine to a flooded heart analogy, but what represents the fuel injector?”

Grams smiles, and it’s the sweetest, most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. She steps up to me and cups my face. “You, my dear. You’re a perfectly working fuel injector and exactly what my grandson needs for his heart to find balance.”

My breath catches. She thinks I’m perfect for Mac. She’s telling me the one thing I hope is true.

Does this mean she thinks I can fix him? Well, not fix him in the traditional sense of a woman fixing a man, but rather help mend what’s broken inside him. And do I want that?

“Deary, I see the conflict in your eyes. It’s never easy loving a Mutter man. Trust me. I know firsthand. But I also know that you’ll never find a man more worthy of your love. Or more loyal. One of you has to be strong, and if it’s not you, well …” She lets out a deep sigh. “Then I’m afraid there will be no hope for you and Mac.”

I nod because words fail me. And also because I know if I speak, the hold I’ve had my tears might slip. I don’t want to cry. Not in front of her, or anyone, for that matter.

She gives me one last pat on the cheek before she turns around and walks out of the garage. I stare after her as if I’m transfixed—barely able to breathe, let alone move.

First Clara, and now Grams. Two people who know Mac far better than I do, and they’re both telling me the same thing. It’s up to me to make the first move. Although Grams’ delivery was much softer, which is surprising since she rarely holds back.

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