Page 13 of When Autumn Arrives

I could have told her no, and I should have pushed her away. But it had been my idea to allow her to use the shop, and I wasn’t about to break her heart when I’d been the one to get her hopes up.

So, here I was, pretending to be busy while she hummed in the garage. It was that stupid Star-Spangled Banner tune, and I didn’t understand why anyone would think that song could be a soothing lullaby. Still, she hummed it often, as if it were a security blanket for an infant.

I chewed on the inside of my lip, needing to get my mind off the temptress in my shop and back to the folder I’d been shifting through. It was filled with photos of one of our last deployments together. There were also stacks of letters and holiday cards that had been sent from my family. Whenever I felt things were getting out of control, I forced myself to remember the days when they truly were out of my hands.

When I ran a secretive operation for the Army, when I didn’t know if my men would make it home to their families. Alvin Cotrell stared at me through the photo in my hand. He wasn’t smiling, and neither was a young Parker, with a shaved head in contrast to his now shoulder length hair. Sandwiched between them was a floater, Joe Brown. He wasn’t assigned to my unit, but we often did special ops with him. We’d just gotten back from a tough mission, and all we wanted was to get drunk and forget about it.

There had been so many missions that were tough on us. Not just in body, but in mind. Most of them blended together, but this one stood out. This was the one that brought Cotrell to end his life. Under my command. I’d missed the signs and just three hours after this photo was taken, I had failed the most important mission I’d ever been assigned. One of my men didn’t come home.

My hand shook as I stared at him, hating that I couldn’t save him.

“Shane,” Thea said, snapping me from the image. Her voice was close. Too close. I snapped my attention toward her.

Grease smudged her hands and face. Her brows creased, and she peered at me with concern. My gaze dropped toward her hand. On my shoulder. Her grip was firm, and probably what shook me from my stupor. Had she been trying to get my attention for a while with no luck?

“Hmm?” I dropped the photo.

Her head tilted. My heart rate picked up when I remembered that Parker was beneath the floorboards. I couldn't have her in the office. In a haste to get her moving, I leapt from the chair and hurried toward her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, eyes narrowing when I grabbed her elbow and dragged her into the shop. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m fine.” I released her, heading for the Stingray, which was now a pale gray color. She’d finished priming it. Now it needed to be buffed. The hood was off, lying on one of the counters. “Looks good.”

Thea crossed her arms. She stood beside me, and though she was watching me intently, I kept my gaze on the car. I didn’t need to glance her way to know she was looking at me with confusion. “Shane. Are we not going to talk about the fact I was calling your name, and you weren’t answering me?”

I swiped the palms of my hands against the denim fabric of my pants. Still, I refused to look at her.

“Was it like…” she paused, and from the corner of my eye I caught her place a hand on her hip. “A PTSD thing?”

“I’m fine. Drop it,” I said. “Did you need help with something?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “I’m starving. I was going to see if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the digital sports watch on my wrist. 19:30. It was definitely past when I normally ate. “Fuck, how did it get so late?”

She winced. “I thought the same when the hunger pangs pulled me from the work.”

I glanced back toward the office, where Parker was holed up. Getting Thea out of here was a priority, and dinner was an excuse to do so. I placed a hand on the small of her back. My pinky finger slid up her shirt—totally not intentional—and she gasped at the warm connection.

“Let’s go to Mary’s,” I said, ushering her toward my vehicle. Mary’s was the deli in the heart of town. We could grab sandwiches and sit outside on a bench while we ate. The only other option was the bar, and I figured the last place she wanted to be when she didn’t have to was the bar. The next closet restaurant was an hour away.

“Wait.” She planted her feet on the ground, turning her head back. “I need to clean up. I’m covered in grease.”

Right.

The only way to access the bathroom was through my office. I paused, holding a breath. “Sure, yeah.”

I was on her heels when she spun around, not leaving her any distance between us. When we reached the office, I stepped over the rug that covered the hatch. If Parker tried to open the door, my weight on it would let him know that someone was here.

I scratched at the back of my ear while Thea hurried into the bathroom. Silence filled the air while I waited for her. I pulled my phone out, checked messages, and slid it back into my pocket. Water sounded when she flushed the toilet and then turned on the sink.

“I’m ready,” she said when she came out.

I gave her a forced smile. “Great. Let's go.”

The door chimed when we entered the deli, announcing our arrival. The cashier behind the counter looked up from her phone and flashed me a smile.

“Hey, Shane,” Greer said. She was Mary’s great granddaughter and only about nineteen, maybe twenty. Her blonde hair was pulled back, and she wore an apron with the shop’s logo across the chest.

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