Page 3 of Falling for the Mechanic

Chelsea

Once I’m standing in front of my parents’ home, and the Lyft driver is long gone, I know there’s no turning back.

When I see Finn sitting on the porch swing with a cigarette pinched between his lips, I can already tell this is going great. For a moment, I feel a little ease in my chest as I drag my luggage toward him.

I pass his motorcycle parked behind Dad’s truck, surprised he’d risk driving it in this cold weather. Then again, he’s always loved doing whatever he wants, even if it puts himself in danger.

“You—” He blows out a puffy white cloud of smoke as his eyes meet mine. “—are a pain in my ass.”

My smile stretches as I abandon my luggage near the screen door and opt to join him. Settling against the cool seat, I push off so we sway.

“I missed you, too.” Humming the words, I swat away the next wave of smoke away.

Unlike me, who immediately ran away from the town as soon as I hit eighteen, Finn stuck around. Got himself a place to stay and opened up a business to call his own. Despite staying close to our family, he keeps his distance as much as I do.

“How bad is it?” Sucking on my teeth, I listen to the low creaks as we move.

He taps the heel of his boot against the concrete below and squints ahead. “Well…Mom’s already thrown a fit about the bad energy in the air, and you being late is solid proof of it.” He clicks his tongue, his frown deepening. “Then she saw my new art and had a meltdown. Been outside since.”

I don’t want to ask him how many cigarettes he’s gone through. Instead, I look him over, searching for the difference. Hard to see with his jacket.

“What does she expect? You own the sickest parlor in town. Sometimes, you have to draw on yourself.” Reaching toward him, I pluck at his sleeve. “Show me.”

He does. Opening up his jacket and plucking down the collar of his shirt, I can see most of what looks like a sun. It’s a little strange looking, kind of like a tribal tattoo.

“That’s sick, actually.” The compliment comes out naturally, and I catch his frown softening.

Straightening his jacket, he finishes off his cigarette and leans back. “Still a blank canvas?”

He asks me every time we meet up, and when I tell him yes, he always tells me he offers a family discount. This time, we’re changing things up.

When I reach for my boot, he makes a low gasp. “Chelsea Dawson, tell me it isn’t so.”

Unzipping my boot and freeing my foot, I peel off my sock and shove up my legging. Giving him a grin, I show off the flower band I have wrapped around my ankle.

Once he’s done calling me a traitor like we’re still kids and commenting on my hairy leg, he pauses to appreciate the art. “When did you get it done?”

“A couple of months back.” My toes curl as the cool air hits them. “I joined a group of my friends from the office. We needed a release of stress and had a little too much to drink. Someone had a good idea to go to the parlor next to the bar, and now I’ve got this beauty.”

I knew how much it would be hated if my parents saw it, but at the time, I wanted to feel rebellious. Does Finn get a little taste of adrenaline each time he puts a needle to his skin? He does have them all over.

“Man, you’re crazy for that.” For the first time today, if I have to guess, he grins. “Come to me next time, though. If not me, let someone on my team tattoo you.”

Pulling my foot away, I straighten my sock and boot. “Just don’t tell them yet. They’ll find out eventually, sure, but if she’s already going at it, I really don’t need that pointed at me.”

He nods, still not looking like he’s ready to go back in.

“Want to hear about my life?” I offer, feeling like it’ll be nice to complain a little. I’ll get weight off my shoulders, and I’ll give him a few more minutes of cold air.

He grunts, and I tell him about the chaos happening at work. The CEO of the company I’m working for “stepped down” because of a freaking scandal. Now, everyone is sweating about layoffs since his replacement is making decisions that really suck.

“Are you going to be safe?” He pulls out his pack, considering pulling out another one.

I hum at that and shrug. “Who knows. They’ve already wiped out twenty of our team when the swap happened. Now? I’m counting the days.”

Forcing a laugh, I do feel better letting the words out. I give him more details while he lights up another one of his gross cigarettes.

We sit until my body’s numb. Once I’m squirming, he agrees to head inside. Grabbing my luggage before I can, he curses under his breath. “What in the hell did you pack for a few days? A couple of bricks?”

I shrug a shoulder. Don’t want to tell him that I packed a couple of outfits for tomorrow in case the first option isn’t deemed good enough.

He guides us into the house, and as soon as I step in, I’m hit with a strong wave of the scent that lingers on the walls from all the incense that’s been burned inside.

It takes all but a few feet before I’m entering the living room.

Dad’s sitting in his recliner, looking rather relaxed for the chaos that normally happens around him. For someone who plans on celebrating his wedding anniversary, he looks a little too settled.

His smile is instant when he sees me. Moving to sit up, his seat creaks with him. “Look what the cat dragged in! Elaine!”

As he calls for my mother, he beckons me with his arms to come hug him.

How long has it been since I last saw them? New Year’s Eve? Maybe Christmas. They wanted me to come down for the Fourth of July, but I managed to get out of the invite thanks to my job.

When he hugs me, he squeezes hard enough to make my muscles ache. When my heels lift from the ground, I can already hear the words before he says them.

“Looks like you’ve got more to hug now, kiddo.” His tease strikes a nerve as he pulls back. “Feels like it’s been an eternity since you came around. How are you?”

Finn shuffles over to the couch, sinking down on one of the cushions and immediately turns his attention to the football game playing on the television, a deep frown already etched on his face.

Unlike me, who typically just sucks it up, my brother is more combative. He doesn’t mind starting arguments and is thankful if he ends up getting kicked out. Since I’m here, I’m sure he’s biting his tongue to avoid leaving me alone.

“I’m good, Dad. How are you? Tomorrow’s the big day, huh? Are you—”

“Chelsea!” Hearing my name cried out in a voice that makes me jump, I’m pulled from my Dad’s arms and into my Mom’s.

She squeezes me tight, leaving no room for any air to fill my lungs.

She smells like strong perfume and, faintly, of herbs.

“My baby! I was just telling your father you wouldn’t forget us.

Did you get the crystals I mailed you? The rose quartz?

For love! You need to put it under your pillow, I read it’s the most powerful way to—”

“I got them, Mom, thank you,” I say, gently extracting myself from the chokehold. “They were…thoughtful.”

“I’m wonderful, sweetheart,” Dad says, answering my earlier question as he settles back into his recliner. “Just wishing my only daughter would visit her old man more often. You’re working yourself to the bone at that…what is it again? That office job?”

“It’s going okay. Actually, I was just talking about it to Finn—” I start, seizing the opening to chat about my life.

“—because if you didn’t work so hard, you’d have a boyfriend by now,” he continues right over me, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “Hell, maybe even a husband. A pretty girl like you? Shouldn’t be spending her best years staring at a computer screen.”

The whiplash of the conversation leaves me dizzy. “Dad, my job is important to me. It’s a good career—”

“Did you use the crystals, Chelsea?” Mom interrupts, her hands fluttering anxiously.

“You have to use them. Intentions are nothing without action! I also sent a black tourmaline for protection. Is that city apartment safe? I have nightmares, you know. I just think about you getting caught alone at night.”

Finn sighs, reaching over to turn up the television.

“It’s safe, Mom. And yes, I—”

“Career,” my father scoffs, the word sounding dirty in his mouth. “A career is what a man has to support his family. A woman has a job until she starts a family. You’re getting closer and closer to thirty, sweetheart. The clock is ticking.”

I’m only twenty-six!

The air feels thick and suffocating. My cheeks are burning.

This is what I get for staying away for so long. If I came by more often, they’d have less to hit me with each visit. It would be more easily survivable.

“Not everyone wants that, Dad,” I say, my voice tighter than I intended.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone wants that. You just don’t know what you want yet.” He says it with such finality, such dismissive certainty, that it steals the air from my lungs all over again.

A hysterical thought bubbles up. Is this what they did to Finn? Did they just talk at him, over him, until he felt so unseen and unheard that the only way to get any oxygen was to explode? To get himself kicked out just to breathe?

The overwhelming need to defend myself, my life, my choices, wars with the crushing exhaustion of knowing it’s utterly pointless. They don’t want to hear about my life. They just want to critique it.

To think that I was ready to complain about my job. To tell them the drama that’s currently going down. At least then, I could’ve handed them ammunition.

“Anyway,” my mother says, clapping her hands together as if we’d just had a lovely, agreeable chat. “We’re going to that lovely Mexican place for dinner tomorrow. You brought that orange dress I bought last year for you, didn’t you? The one with the bat design? You look so pretty in that one.”

“Mom, it’s too cold out for a dress.” I keep my voice steady, trying to put a little weight behind the words. I need to. “I got rid of it because it shrank in the wash, remember? I told you after it happened.”