Page 16 of Break Me Like a Promise (Oak Valley)

Dragan shrugged. It was a small town, and what June heard through the grapevine she often shared with him. “It’s not my place to tell you what goes on with Ruby.”

“I know she can take care of herself, I just…” He ran a hand through his head and shook his head. “Thanks, J.”

Dragan cringed at Colton using his nickname for June. When Dragan met her in kindergarten, he was only just starting to learn English. Saying her name with his Polish accent was undecipherable, so they’d settled on just the first letters of their names. But Colton had no way of knowing that her nickname meant more to him than just that. It was a testament to their friendship, to her acceptance of his roughness.

“It’s okay, Colt. Just… chill, ya know?” She gave him a soft smile. “She’s different than you remember, but I think better than ever. Just be nice to her.”

“It’s a two-way street.”

“One of you could try putting aside your ego,” Dragan added.

Colton glared at him. “Let’s not forget she’s the one who ended things with me. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Even on the carpet, Dragan could hear his stomps. The slam of the door with the holiday bells was the icing on the cake.

“He’s such a…guy.And not in the good way,” June huffed.

Dragan shook his head. “He didn’t have the sweet effects of a beautiful bookworm to help offset the potent masculinity.”

June rolled her eyes. “Please, you may not have the undercurrent of traditionalism he has, but you are by no means far from potently masculine.”

“Oh, really?” Her words lit a fire in him. It was hard knowing whether she saw him as a brother or a friend, but when she said things like that it answered that question. Even if it left out the one he wanted to ask most.

“Dragan, I’m not blind.” She blushed and grabbed the drill. “Can you please help me with these shelves?”

She didn’t look at him as she sashayed to the wall. Dragan stared at her back, filled with the most dangerous emotion he’d ever known.

Hope.

16

Today was the day demolition started.

Ruby stared at the bus, angle grinder in hand. Somehow, by herself, she’d have to use this thing to get the bus seats out. She’d spent an hour researching what an angle grinder even was, watching many a YouTube video on how to hold it, what the discs were, and what bolts needed to be ground down.

So today was the day.

She took a deep breath and kept staring, nausea rising her throat. If she could just start…

“Honey, are you okay?”

Ruby turned to the house, trying to figure out which window her mom’s voice floated from.

“Yep! All good.”

“Okay, if you need anything just let me know. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks!”

Ruby swallowed. Maybe she could trick her mind into having her mom hold her accountable. She turned back to the bus, pulling the angle grinder cord with her. It was a bit of a stretch — the cord was plugged into the basement, extending through a small window and across the width of their driveway. The bus was off to the side, situated on a patch of grass on the other side of the drive.

Now or never.

She opened the back door, placing the grinder under one of the seats before hauling herself up into the aisle. Which in and of itself was a chore. Ruby chuckled at the absurdity of what she’d done. At the very least, converting the bus would be a gym membership. Standing, Ruby put on her safety goggles and put in her earplugs. The angle grinder was much louder than she anticipated, and the vibration traveled up her arm.

This would be interesting.

Bending down in the aisle, she found her first victim. Sparks flew, and she had to stop several times from the vibrating and sheer overwhelm of what she’d gotten herself into. This was a massive project, and she’d only just started. Ruby tried not to think about all the steps that came after. She moved down the aisle, grinding and cutting each bolt head before moving to the bolts against the wall. She contorted herself into a variety of shapes, folding and bending under and over the smelly — sometimes sticky — vinyl seats.

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