Page 16 of Wasted On Us

“Just part of my charm.” He grins, standing up from the counter, his eyes flicking toward the showroom. “Now, come on. We’ve got cars to sell and hearts to mend.”

With that, he presses his lips together, leaving me with my whirling thoughts and a newfound determination to figure out exactly what I want. And what I’m willing to do to get it.

As I’m about to head to my office, the sound of a car engine draws our attention. Eden climbs into the loaner I picked for her, a sunflower yellow compact, Lucy standing by her side, her body language unusually gentle.

With a sense of desperation, I make a move to follow, but Jake blocks my path, an inscrutable look on his face. “Let her go, Mateo,” my friend says, his voice soft but firm.

Before I can muster a response, Eden’s already on her way out of the lot, her departure as swift and unexpected as her arrival. My heart clenches, a mix of rejection and confusion coursing through my veins. I don’t understand what went wrong, but I feel it acutely.

Dismissing Jake with a flick of my wrist, I turn back to the office, the laughter and noise of the dealership fading into a muted buzz as I try to piece together the puzzle that has become my love life. And I can’t shake off the feeling that Lucy, with her mysterious smile, holds more pieces than I do.

Because Eden didn’t even say goodbye.

Chapter Seven

Eden

My heart squeezes from behind my ribs. I really didn’t want to be cold to Mateo. No. In fact, when I saw him, it took everything I had in me not to throw my arms around his neck. The good girl inside me kept screaming against the grain, begging me to just be nice and not ruin the wonderful night we had last night. The way Mateo made me feel… God, I haven’t been able to think of anything else. He’s an amazing man in every way, and I wish I could give a future with him a shot like we agreed to. But with one little business card, everything changed. Mateo is wrong for me, and dating him would bring me far more harm than good. If I’m not firm now, it’s going to be far harder to walk away later.

I know with complete certainty that if I see him again, I’ll start to get attached.

And the more I see him, the more attached I will get.

I wasn’t just being polite when I told Lucy how much I liked the color of the car. Despite the two of them obviously sharing a past, she admitted that Mateo had picked it out for me. I realize I’m pretty obvious about my color preferences, but still. Knowing he took the time out to pick a car he’d thought I’d like, rather than just whichever one was closest to the door, really says something to me. Which makes it all the more jarring that I couldn’t feel free to bemyselfaround him.

But I can’t. Not anymore.

Family has always come first with me, and my values haven’t changed just because Mateo is good with his hands and mouth, and I got off for the first time.

The traffic light flashes green, and I nudge my foot against the gas pedal. But my loaner, a sunflower-yellow sedan, stays stubbornly still. A red engine light blinks at me from the dash, and my heart drops. I try the gas again—nothing. Frantically, I power off the car and restart it—the result is the same. Engine light, no movement. The next attempt is rewarded with an ugly grinding sound and a light show on the dash.

A horn blares from behind me. Once, twice.

Hot, frustrated tears threaten to spill. My morning started with such promise, a well-timed visit to the dealership, an appointment at the temp agency, and now this roadblock. Tick-tock, tick-tock. As the minutes slip away, my anxiety mounts, washing over me in waves that make it harder and harder to breathe.

I jump at the knock on my window, pulling me from my internal meltdown.

When I press the button to roll it down, a young and handsome face pops into view. “Hey, need some help?”

When I peer over his head, I find myself looking at half a dozen of the local community college’s baseball team in their practice gear.

“Yes, I could really use some,” I manage, voice trembling. “This car’s a loaner. I just picked it up and now it won’t budge.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I note the van parked behind me, hazard lights blinking. They must have been the ones honking. Thank goodness they didn’t just get mad and swerve around me.

“Alright,” the one in front says, surveying my car. “She’s a lightweight car. You just stay put, put her in neutral, and steer. We’ll push you to the side. My name’s John, by the way.”

Tears well up in my eyes, not out of frustration, but out of gratitude. “Eden.”

My car being nudged to the side is a sight to behold, a bunch of uniformed young men pushing it along. They insist on not taking the twenty I offer, their smiles and words of encouragement are worth more than that.

“We’d never leave a lady stranded in the middle of the street,” John says, adjusting his baseball cap.

The team’s captain leans through the window and gives me a one-armed hug. He’s an imposing figure who, according to theFrostvale Gazette, is known for his home runs.

He whispers, “You’ve got this, Eden. Your day can only get better. It’s all uphill from here. So, don’t be sad.”

With laughter, high-fives, and waves, they climb back into their van, leaving me on the side of the road, but far from stranded. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how I could nudge Dad into being one of their sponsors.

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