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For a beat, Mr. Diaz didn’t speak, and Jo drank again, waiting. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I see,” he said, and Jo looked at him.

“I’ve been brainstorming ideas to raise the money though,” she said. “And I’ve got a plan.”

Mr. Diaz’s brow furrowed. “That’s why you want to do a block party?”

“Yeah,” Jo said. “Evelyn suggested it. Community event. Raffle, food, car washes. Get people to donate.”

“It’s a good idea,” Mr. Diaz said, nodding slowly.

Jo exhaled. “Yeah, it is,” she said. “But if I’m still short. I will sell the Mustang.”

That made Mr. Diaz sit up straighter. “The Fastback?” he asked, and Jo nodded.

“I don’t want to, but…”

“No,” Mr. Diaz said. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

They sat together in silence for a moment, drinking their beer, until Mr. Diaz leaned forward and patted Jo on the knee. “You know, when I gave you that shop, it wasn’t only because you were good with a wrench,” he said. Jo looked at him. “I gave it to you because you gave a damn. You cared about the people. You cared about doing it right. That’s what mattered to me.” Jo felt her throat tighten, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Mr. Diaz shook his head. “You’re not failing. You’re just facing something hard.”

Clearing her throat, Jo nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “That means a lot to me.”

Mr. Diaz gave her a look. “It should,” he said before breaking into a grin. “Now, tell me how Rosa and I can help. I’m assumingyou’ve got Mica onboard, and your new girlfriend is ready to make it all happen.”

Looking at her beer before she answered, Jo was not sure how to respond.Her text said she would still help, Jo thought.Girlfriend or not, I believe her.Finally, she looked at Mr. Diaz. “Of course.”

Twenty-Two

Late for the orientation for her new job, Evelyn ran through the building. She was never late and couldn’t believe she allowed it to happen today of all days. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of her, tile floors echoing beneath her sensible heels. For some reason, she had trouble seeing where she was going, but she knew she had to keep moving. The meeting was very important.

Turning a corner, Evelyn was suddenly in Jo’s garage. Completely confused, she skidded to a stop and looked around. Jo stood at the far end, her back to Evelyn, her leather jacket hanging from a hook nearby. She looked strangely calm. “Jo,” Evelyn said, but her voice came out softly. She cleared her throat. “Jo, listen.” Jo didn’t turn, and Evelyn moved toward her, but her feet felt clumsy. “Jo, please.” Still no response.

Suddenly, Dr. Wong stepped from the shadows. “You’re late,” she said with a frown. “I thought you wanted this promotion.”

“What?” Evelyn asked, spinning to face her boss. In a beat, she was back in the office, only it wasn’t her normal office.

Oliver sat in a chair nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. “You can’t have everything, Evelyn,” he said, shaking his head.“This isn’t one of your romance novels. Real life doesn’t work that way.”

“I don’t want everything,” Evelyn tried to say. “I only want—”

Evelyn jerked awake, her heart pounding, the sheets tangled around her. Gasping for breath, her nightshirt clung to her damp skin. She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her chest.It was only a dream, she assured herself, but the ache deep inside didn’t go away.But then why do I feel so sad?She reached for her phone on the nightstand and saw it was 5:42 A.M. and groaned. There was no way she was getting back to sleep after the nightmare.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, she opened Jo’s contact. Evelyn hadn’t heard from her since the text exchange yesterday.After I told her about the job, she thought.But that I’d still help with the block party.She reread Jo’s reply. The one-word answer. “Sure.” Evelyn stared at the screen for a long moment, then started to type.

“Hey. I know it’s early, but I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to check in. Are you okay?” She hesitated, but then took a deep breath and hit send. The message went, and the screen stayed silent. She waited, and five minutes passed. Starting to feel a little concerned, she got out of bed and went to make coffee. Ten minutes and no reply.Maybe she is asleep,she thought.Or maybe she’s ignoring me.She typed again. “I know things ended kind of abruptly the other day. I didn’t mean to drop everything on you like that. I just didn’t know how else to say it.”

As she drank her coffee, there was still no response. Frustration setting in, she typed another message to Jo. “I wanted you to know that I did accept the job. It starts in two and a half weeks.” Evelyn stared at the message for a long time, then finally hit send. Setting the phone on the kitchen counter, she stared out the window. She didn’t cry. Not this time. There were no tears left, only the hollow ache of knowing she had made the right choice, yet somehow, it didn’t feel right at all.

Lying in her bed, Jo stared at the ceiling as the early morning light coming through her window let her know the world had started to shift from night into day. Sleep was out of the question. Her body was still, but her mind was a mess, spinning with thoughts she didn’t want to face. The break-in. The insurance mess. Selling the Mustang. The block party she wasn’t sure she could pull off.

And Evelyn.

Jo hadn’t opened the texts, but saw they were from her. Messages Jo wasn’t ready to read yet. Rolling onto her side, she stared at the phone on her nightstand, the screen still black. She didn’t reach for it. Instead, she threw back the covers, got up, and slipped on a pair of loose shorts and a tank. Coffee didn’t interest her, and she was definitely not hungry for breakfast. There was something else she needed, and she went straight to the spare bedroom, the one she had converted into a home gym years ago. The room was small with enough space for a bench, a rack of free weights, a yoga mat she barely used, and in the far corner, suspended from a steel bracket in the ceiling, the heavy bag.

Standing in front of it barefoot, she slipped on her worn leather gloves and flexed her fingers inside them, rolling her shoulders. She didn’t warm up. She didn’t need to. Just bobbed on the balls of her feet, and in a flash, threw a jab at the bag. It landed with a satisfying thud, making the bag shudder on its chain. She followed with a cross, then another jab. Her body moved on instinct, the rhythm familiar. Jab, cross, jab. Cross, hook. Pivoting on the balls of her feet, her breath came sharp through her nose, and her arms already burned. She kept going. The bag rocked on its chain, the sound of impact loud in the quiet room. She hit harder. Faster. Her breath started to come out in grunts, her muscles straining with each strike. Jab. Cross. Hook. Hook. Uppercut.

Sweat stained her tank top, as she pictured the insurance adjuster’s smug smile and drove a left hook into the bag so hard the chain groaned. Then, out of nowhere, she heard Evelyn’s soft voice. “Jo, there’s something I need to tell you.” With a growl, Jo hit the bag faster.