Page 96 of Dirty Mechanic

I lie tangled in his arms, my breath slowing, skin still flushed from everything we just shared. The warmth of him anchors me. The scent of sweat, rain, and us clings to the sheets, wrapping around me like a promise. But my mind won’t rest.

Even though his heartbeat is steady against my back, mine is racing.

I think of the night I left San Francisco—the weight of the duffle bag digging into my shoulder, the way I’d flinched at every sound in the alley, terrified Mike was behind me. The motel clerk with pity in her eyes when she handed me a room key and turned the TV up loud enough to drown out my sobbing. I think of the forged papers I printed in a dusty little library three towns over, hands shaking so badly I could barely hit "confirm" on the form.

I remember staring at the signature line, knowing it was wrong. Knowing I was stealing a future I hadn’t earned yet. But I signed anyway.

Because I was already half in love with the memory of Derek and clinging to the idea that, one day, I could find him again.

And now, somehow, I have.

His hand tightens around my waist in his sleep, and I press mine over his in a vow. I’m not letting go this time. But wanting something and keeping it are two different things.

Because love doesn’t erase the past. It doesn’t fix the mess I created. It doesn’t make the forged documents disappear. Mike is still out there, circling like a buzzard. And if I know anything about him, he’s not done. Not even close.

I shift slightly, just enough to see Derek’s face in the dim light—so peaceful, so utterly unaware of how close we still are to losing all of this. If the wrong person finds out, if the sheriff digs deeper, if Caroline’s hands are tied... This marriage could be torn apart in a courtroom before I even get the chance to truly be his.

I can’t go back to who I was. I won’t survive it.

So I promise myself, right here in this quiet, that I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll face the hearings. I’ll testify. I’ll rip my secrets into the light if I have to.

Because this? Him? Us?

It’s real.

And for the first time in my life, I want to fight for something instead of run.

A soft gust of wind brushes against the window, rattling the RV just enough to remind me that we’re not invincible. That even in the glow of safety, the storm hasn’t truly passed.

I kiss the back of Derek’s hand, breathing him in like it might be the last time.

Then I close my eyes.

And I pray the morning doesn’t take this peace away.

But peace never lasts, not even in sleep.

Sometime in the dead of night, my mind drags me under.

In the dream, I’m running barefoot through the orchard. The rows are endless. The trees are skeletal and dry, their blossoms replaced with blackened fruit that crumbles when I brush past them. I call for Derek, but my voice is swallowed by the wind. No one answers.

Then I see him—just ahead.

He’s facing away, standing still, hands at his sides. Waiting.

I sprint toward him, calling his name again, louder this time. Desperate.

But he doesn’t move.

When I reach him, I understand why.

He’s holding the marriage license in one hand. My signature is smeared, dripping with blood. The paper burns at the edges, curling inward.

Mike’s laughter echoes from the trees.

Derek turns slowly.

His eyes are empty. Blank. Like he doesn’t see me at all.