Page 9 of Falling for the Mechanic

Chelsea

The map of my life has always been clearly drawn, its borders defined by ambition and escape. Willowbrook Ridge was a pinprick on that map, a place to be from, not a place to be.

All my life, I’ve never really found a reason to stick to the small town.

It was a backdrop, a memory. Even Finn, my own brother, seems like he’s still on the fence about staying or leaving, so I’ve never even considered the possibility of settling down here.

My future was a skyline, not a mountain range.

But now…now the map is blurring.

The question whispers through me, unsettling and persistent. Can a few interactions with a stranger really be all it takes to change that?

Logically, the answer is a resounding no.

It’s insane. It’s the plot of a sentimental movie, not real life.

Yet, logic feels flimsy against the weight of memory.

The scent of motor oil and soap on his skin.

The devastating, silent intensity in his eyes saw past every one of my flaws while accepting each of them without batting an eye.

After sharing drinks…and kisses, Cameron doesn’t feel like a stranger.

In the space of a day, he has become a fixed point, a new coordinate on my personal map, and the thought of returning to my life in the city—to my apartment, my job, my world—feels like planning a journey back to a place that no longer fits.

It’s a world where Cameron isn’t. And that simple, terrifying fact makes the familiar skyline of my future look suddenly, unbearably empty.

“Tell me I’m crazy.”

The hum of tattoo needles fills the air alongside the soft hum of music. The guy in the chair winces beneath Finn’s grip as he shades an image of a skull.

Living above his parlor, there was no way I could just sit up there while he resumed his work, like today wasn’t supposed to be the day we were meant to be celebrating with our parents.

“Crazy runs in our blood.” Mumbling the words as he concentrates, his brows come together. “But for Cameron Calder of all people? Yeah, you’ve lost a screw.”

“He’s hot. Plus, he took really good care of me.”

The guy groans again, the muscles in his arms flexing.

“He’s an asshole.” Finn pulls back and wipes at his work, causing me to groan at the sight of blood. “How you let that guy near you is something I’ll never understand.”

Groaning into my hands. I never told him the truth, and now Finn thinks I let Cameron into my pants. Well, now I really wish I had. Even now, I squirm from just the thought.

“Well, you’re going to have to make up your mind about what to do one way or another.” He continues, pulling back to give his customer a break to refill his cups to start colors. “How long do you see yourself at your job?”

I force my mind away from the mechanic, back to the life I built. The job I bled for, now threatened by a corporate shake-up. If the stock prices are any indicator, I’m on a clock. A year, maybe two, if I’m lucky. Then what?

“It sounds awful,” Finn says when I explain, finally turning his full attention to me.

“So, what happens after? You find another soul-crushing office job? You know this town doesn’t have opportunities for that.

Is it worth throwing it all away for one guy?

One who, in my opinion, isn’t worth the risk. ”

I press my lips together, biting back the retort that he doesn’t understand. He’s never been blindsided by a feeling before. Maybe if he had, he’d get the urge to do something reckless.

“The future’s already shaky,” I counter, leaning back. My phone buzzes. An unknown number, but the attached picture—my car, sitting in a familiar shop—sends a jolt through me. “I think…I’d want to take the route that leaves me happiest.”

“Right. So, more reason to escape this town, Chelsea. If you ask me—” He stops when I stand. “What is it?”

The decision crystallizes in an instant. “I’m going to see him.” I tuck my phone away, a smile tugging at my lips despite the fear. “I’m going to ask him if he wants me to stay. If he doesn’t, then I’ll go back to my boring life. I’ll find another boring job. But if he does…”

My smile widens, my lips tingling with the ghost of Cameron’s kiss.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Finn argues, gesturing to his flesh canvas. “I can’t just stop to drive you over there to go declare some corny love confession here.”

I’m already heading for the door that leads up to his home to grab my luggage. I’ll need it, just in case. If I’m wrong, if this restlessness blows up in my face, a rejection that final will be all the reason I need to leave and never look back.

When I return, bag in hand, he’s still frowning. “I’m walking,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I need the time to practice my speech.”

“Chelsea, don’t be reckless!”

I don’t look back. My heart is a wild thing, beating hard like I’ve already run a marathon. I pull out my phone, my fingers trembling slightly as I type in Steel Haven Auto. The blue dot on the map feels like a homing beacon, pulling me forward one determined step at a time.

The walk is a blur of somewhat familiar business and street signs, the air cool and scented with earth. Each step is a rehearsal of words that dissolve the moment the garage comes into view. The large bay doors are wide open, swallowing the afternoon light.

Gripping my luggage tighter, I walk faster until I’m panting, standing in the opening.

Cameron stands over an engine, a wrench in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration. Grease stains his arms, and the rest of his clothes. The sight of him, so solid and real, steals the remaining air from my lungs.

He must feel my presence. His head lifts, his eyes finding mine across the garage. The wrench stills in his hand.

He doesn’t look happy.

My hopeful smile falters. His expression isn’t the warm, surrendered one from this morning. It’s shuttered. Torn. A storm of emotion rages behind his eyes. It looks like he’s got a thousand words to say, a whole argument happening silently in the space between us.

But all he can do is look at me. His gaze is a physical weight, holding me in place, searching my face for answers to questions he hasn’t asked. The silence stretches, taut and heavy, and my carefully practiced speech vanishes into the void of it.

Then, I notice he’s not alone.

There’s a man in my favorite spot who has now twisted to look at me. Kind of looks like Cameron, but only from a distance. Older, with a similar stubborn set to his jaw, but his eyes are warmer, crinkled with curiosity.

I…didn’t imagine declaring my feelings in front of an audience. Now I’m nervous, swallowing thickly. My courage, so fierce moments ago, begins to shrivel under the weight of two pairs of eyes.

Cameron breaks the stare first, his gaze cutting away from me like I’ve burned him. He looks at the older man, his voice a low, rough gravel that scrapes against my raw nerves. “She’s the one with the car. The one I just finished. She needs her invoice.”

My heart plummets. That’s how he introduces me? I’m reduced to a transaction? A finished job?

Now he won’t look at me at all, his attention fixed firmly on the engine bay like it holds the secrets of the universe.

The older man scoffs. He doesn’t move from his seat. “I’m not getting up. You can come get it.” His tone is dry, aimed solely at Cameron.

Cameron’s jaw tightens. “I’m busy.”

The words are a slap. Is this what he wants to do? Pretend that this morning didn’t happen? That he didn’t kiss me until we were both breathless? Is this his way of making goodbye easier? How can I be rejected if he doesn’t even let me get my feelings off my chest?

“Then I guess she’s waiting until you’re free,” the older man says with a shrug, utterly unbothered.

A muscle ticks in Cameron’s jaw. He finally, finally flicks a glance my way, but it’s brief, impersonal. “Go get it from him,” he says, jerking his head toward the desk. “He’s the owner.”

The owner.

The man Cameron complained about behind his shots, the one unwilling to give him this place despite his clear passion, his backbreaking work.

My gaze whips to the older man, now seeing him in a completely new, infuriating light.

Releasing my luggage, I let it drop to the concrete with a thud. The hurt and rejection balling up in my chest transforms, igniting into something else. A righteous, protective anger. A rage, all for someone I have to accept I still care about, even if he’s being a colossal jerk right now.

If I’m going to leave here with a broken heart, then I may as well give this guy a piece of my mind first.

I stomp toward the desk, my boots echoing on the concrete. My lips purse together, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I’ve never told someone off before. Never spoke up. That’s going to change today.

“You,” I start, my voice trembling slightly, stumbling over the torrent of words fighting to get out. “You are…you’re terrible.”

The guy’s brows lift in surprise, and he blinks like he’s not expecting the insult. Well, I have more to say.

There’s a loud clank behind me—the sound of a wrench hitting the concrete floor—but my attention is locked on Nash. I see the name stitched on his shirt, confirming it.

“Cameron is amazing,” I blurt out, the words gaining strength.

“I know what a hard worker is, and that guy is the definition of it.” I jab a finger in Cameron’s direction without looking back.

“Sure, he might be grumpy, and really bad with people, and a complete jerk with first impressions, but he is…he is…”

My voice cracks, but I push through, my gaze burning into Nash’s.

“He is amazing. And he deserves this shop. He deserves someone who sees that. So…there’s that.” I’m out of breath, a little dizzy from the adrenaline rush. My chest heaves as I finally fall silent, bracing for his anger, his dismissal.

Nash doesn’t look offended. Rather, a slow, deeply amused smile spreads across his face. He actually chuckles, a low, rumbling sound.

“I agree,” he says, his voice calm and easy. “My nephew is one of the hardest workers I’ve ever seen. His skill…that’s never been the issue.”

My anger falters, confusion taking its place. “Then what is?”

“Giving him this shop would result in it running him into the ground,” Nash says, his eyes holding mine with a startling intensity.

“He’s all grit, no give. He’d work himself to a bone until there was nothing left.

My feelings on that haven’t changed.” He pauses, and his gaze softens. “Not until today.”

Something twists in my gut, but I try my hardest not to jump the gun and assume.

He leans back, taking me in from head to toe, his mouth curving into that knowing smile again. “Not until I watched him come in here and not act like himself.”

Nash’s eyes lift, focusing on a point directly behind me. I go utterly still, every nerve ending screaming in awareness that there’s a heat close enough that I can feel it soaking against my back.

“Now,” Nash says, his voice aimed past me. “I think I can see why.” He pauses, letting the tension simmer in the air. “Cameron, who is this woman, and why is she coming at me like I’m a bad person?”

The air crackles. Slowly, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I turn my head to look over my shoulder.

Cameron is right there. He’s not looking at his uncle. He’s staring down at me, his eyes blazing with an intensity that steals the breath from my lungs. The raw hunger I saw in his eyes this morning doesn’t come close to the way he’s looking at me right now. That was a spark; this is a wildfire.

He looks like he wants to devour me whole.

Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like I was just scolding his uncle. Instead, I might’ve as well declared just how much I care about him to the whole world.

Now, I get to face the aftermath of it all.