Page 10 of Dirty Mechanic

I swallow hard, tightening my grip on the suitcase. Inside, the hidden weight of the gun and my journal knock softly against the lining.

I’m not the girl they remember. Not anymore.

The town doesn’t know it yet, but the woman they once called their Pie Princess—their first town nurse, their smiling Annabelle—is returning as something cracked and dangerous, something that might not survive this return.

A stray dog shuffles at the curb, ribs shining through patchy fur. I crouch, clicking my tongue, but she bolts, vanishing behind the scorched skeleton of my childhood home.

I straighten slowly, staring at the blackened beams jutting into the sky like snapped bones. I don’t even remember walking here. My roots have turned to ash and blown with the wind. I drag in a shaky breath and force myself forward, back to town, because there’s only one place left to go.

I can’t face Derek Fields yet. Not after everything I left him to clean up. God knows, I’m not ready to face myself, but I need somewhere to breathe. Somewhere to sit. Somewhere the ghosts don’t talk back, and the demons stay drunk.

So I head for the Rusty Lantern Pub.

The door creaks open to whiskey, pine cleaner, old smoke, and sweet memory.

Inside, the worn leather barstools haven’t changed. Neither has the low hum of voices, or the battered jukebox whispering an old country song no one listens to anymore.

I roll my suitcase across the floor, pulse rattling under my skin. Familiar faces glance up, nodding like I just stepped out for a minute and not, you know, years.

“Welcome back, Annabelle,” George calls from behind the bar, his smile warm and worn-in. For half a second, I almost believe I’m home.

He steps out from behind the counter, all warmth and minty dish soap, and wraps me in a quick, sturdy hug. I stiffen—then lean in just for a second, tasting the safety I’ve missed.

“It’s good to see you.”

I manage a smile that cracks like glass. “You too.”

“What’ll it be?”

“Double whiskey. Neat.”

George doesn’t blink. He pours. No questions. Just service with emotional restraint.

I slide into a corner booth. Leather sticks to my thighs like judgment. The first sip brings mercy. The second one, forgiveness. And the third, a forget-me-not moment. Whiskey never fixes anything, but tonight, it’s trying.

I close my eyes as the pub hums around me. Smoke settles in my bones, but it doesn’t take long for me to feel him. I know his footsteps by name. They carry the weight of a man who was born to undo me. And damn it, I want to be undone.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Annabelle Waters, back in town.”

His voice detonates the past. I open my eyes and see Derek Fields, standing by my table like he never left my dreams—or nightmares—or both.

He looks older and sharper around the edges. Still broad-shouldered, and still magnetic gravity in human form. A grease smudge stains above his brow, and a strand of gray lightens his temple. He’s the same, and completely different. Like me.

The grip on my glass tightens.

“Mr. Fields,” I say coolly.

His mouth quirks. “Mr. Fields? Last time you called me that, you were dating my kid. What happened to Derek, Pie Princess?”

The nickname slices me open, but I don’t let it show.

“We didn’t date.” My voice is flat and sharp. A little too sharp. “I thought we were past that. And you know what happened to Derek, Derek.”

Which is a lie.

Because I don’t know what happened to him after I left. I don’t know if he hated me, missed me, erased me. I only know that I never stopped trying to forget how he made me feel. Safe, seen, and wanted.

Loved.