Page 30 of Fixing Hearts

Eighteen

T he café was quiet for a Monday morning, the hum of the espresso machine blending with the soft clink of ceramic mugs and the low murmur of conversation.

Evelyn sat at a small corner table by the window, her hands curled around a steaming cup of chamomile tea.

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen tea instead of her usual latte.

Maybe it’s because my stomach is in knots , she thought, happy to see her sister finally enter through the front glass door.

Jasmine slid into the seat across from her, sunglasses pushed to the top of her head, a to-go cup in hand, and a curious look on her face.

“Okay,” she said, setting her bag down. “You texted me at six-forty-five this morning and said you needed to talk. That’s getting to be a habit of yours, but I’m here. What’s going on?”

Evelyn exhaled slowly, staring down into her tea. “I got offered a big promotion at work.”

“Wait,” Jasmine said after a beat. “That’s fantastic, right?”

With a sigh, Evelyn nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Dr. Wong pulled me aside Saturday. She said I’d be leading a pilot program. Full funding. A team of my own. It’s everything I’ve been working toward.”

Jasmine’s face lit up. “Evie, that’s amazing,” she said with excitement. “Congratulations.” Evelyn didn’t smile, and Jasmine’s expression faltered. “Okay… now why do you look like someone told you your favorite plant died?

Shaking her head, Evelyn met her sister’s eyes. “Because it’s not that simple,” she said. “In fact, it complicates everything.”

Watching her, Jasmine sipped her coffee. “Okay,” she said. “What’s the complication?”

“I’d be traveling all over the Pacific Northwest,” Evelyn whispered. “At least temporarily. Oregon, Washington, Northern California, and even parts of Canada. Four to five months minimum. Maybe more.”

Leaning back in her seat, Jasmine nodded slowly. “Wow,” she said. “That is a lot.”

“Yeah,” Evelyn said. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the unspoken pressing between them.

Finally, Jasmine tilted her head. “Does Jo know?” she asked, and Evelyn’s shoulders tensed.

“No,” she said. “Not yet.”

“And how long have you known about this?” Jasmine asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Since Saturday,” Evelyn answered. “When I was at the office finishing up a presentation.” When her sister simply looked at her, Evelyn bit her lip.

“Okay. I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.

” Evelyn fiddled with the rim of her cup.

“Things were really good. We went to a barbecue with a family she’s close to, we—” She paused, her cheeks flushing.

We had amazing sex, she thought. Multiple times. “Let’s just say we’re in a good place.”

Jasmine let out a long sigh. “So you’re avoiding telling her something that will absolutely affect your relationship because things are good?

” Evelyn looked away. “Evelyn,” Jasmine said, her voice soft but firm.

“You do this. Every time something gets serious, you find a way to sidestep it. You bury yourself in work or take the opportunity that lets you run.”

“That’s not fair. This is different,” Evelyn said, though she didn’t even sound convincing to herself.

“I’m not judging,” Jasmine said. “I’m only saying you’ve spent your whole adult life waiting for someone who makes you feel safe enough to stay.

And now I think you’ve found that person.

” She reached and gently took hold of Evelyn’s arm until she looked at her.

“You’ve got someone who makes you laugh, who makes you those ridiculous cookies you won’t stop texting me about—”

“They’re really good,” Evelyn muttered.

“—and you’re about to throw it away because you’re scared.”

Evelyn’s throat tightened. “I’m not trying to throw anything away,” she said. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Then talk to her,” Jasmine said, letting go and leaning back. “Be honest. Tell her about the job. Tell her how you feel. Give her the chance to tell you the same.”

Feeling a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach, Evelyn was quiet for a long moment. “What if she doesn’t?” she finally said. “What if I’m all wrong about this?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Jasmine said. “But you can’t pretend this decision doesn’t affect her.”

Nodding slowly, Evelyn’s mind raced to consider all the possibilities. “I know,” she said after a beat. Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it and her breath caught. It was Jo.

“You left your scarf in the GTO. Smells like your shampoo. Want me to drop it off later?” There was a winking emoji after it. Evelyn stared at the message for a long time, her heart aching in the way it only did when something mattered more than she was ready to admit.

“Is that her?” Jasmine asked, and Evelyn nodded. “What’d she say?” Smiling faintly, Evelyn turned the screen around to let Jasmine read the message.

After a moment, Jasmine looked at her, and her expression was softer. “I’m pretty sure she feels the same, Evie,” she said, and Evelyn didn’t deny it.

She looked at the phone again, and whispered to herself as much as her sister, “Yeah. I think you may be right.” Evelyn stared at the message from Jo, her heart still thudding against her ribs.

She could practically hear Jo’s voice in those words.

Teasing, affectionate, and casual in that way that masked how much she actually cared.

Evelyn hesitated for a beat longer before she finally typed her reply. “You can keep it for now. Consider it collateral. But yes, I’d love to see you later.” She hit send and watched the message disappear, her stomach fluttering with something warm and uncertain.

Jasmine gave her a knowing look. “That was a very flirty yes, wasn’t it?”

Trying not to smile, Evelyn failed. “I can’t help it,” she said softly. “She brings it out of me.”

Leaning back in her chair, Jasmine folded her arms. “So what’s the plan?” she asked, and Evelyn sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m going to tell her tonight.”

“About the job?” Jasmine asked.

Nodding, Evelyn felt her shoulders relax a little now that she had decided. “She deserves to know the entire situation,” she said. “Even if it complicates things.”

Standing at the front desk of the garage, Jo scribbled numbers on a notepad while Mica leaned against the counter.

“You’ve been squinting at that same stack of invoices for twenty minutes,” she said.

“You solving a mystery or just hoping the numbers rearrange themselves into something less depressing?”

Jo didn’t look up. “I’m hoping they start lying to me.”

“No such luck, huh?” Mica asked, and Jo grunted in response, flipping the page.

Her eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets all morning.

Inventory lists, replacement costs, vendor estimates.

She already knew the answer, but some part of her kept hoping she had missed something.

That there was a line item she overlooked that would magically make the math work. There wasn’t.

There was a knock on the open door of the garage bay, and Jo looked to see a tall man in a blazer that screamed “corporate casual” step inside. He carried a tablet case under one arm. “Jo Fuller?” he asked, scanning the room like she might be hiding behind the tire racks.

“That’s me,” Jo said, straightening to make her location known. “Are you from the insurance company?”

“Yes. Albert Withers, Westview Commercial,” he said with a nod. “I’m here to assess the damage and review your claim.”

Closing the distance between them, Jo gestured toward the garage and all that was in it.

“Thanks for coming,” she said. “Right this way.” As they walked across the main bay, Albert tapped notes into his tablet, pausing occasionally to squint at the busted window or the empty hooks where her most expensive tools used to hang.

Jo kept her arms crossed, resisting the urge to hover.

When they reached the office, she motioned him inside.

The space was small but tidy, or it had been before she stacked it with boxes of paperwork and receipts from the last forty-eight hours.

She cleared two chairs, and they sat across from each other, the desk between them.

Albert adjusted his glasses and pulled up her file.

“Okay,” he began, “I’ve reviewed your policy in detail, and I want to walk you through what’s covered.

” He cleared his throat. “And what isn’t.

” Jo’s stomach clenched, but she kept her mouth shut and listened.

Licking his lips, the man continued, tapping the tablet’s screen with a stylus.

“Your general liability coverage is solid. That’ll take care of the broken window, the front door damage, and any structural repairs.

But as for the stolen items...” He tapped a few more times, then looked at her.

“Unfortunately, your current plan excludes theft coverage for non-fixed assets valued over five thousand dollars unless they were individually listed.”

Jo blinked. “Wait,” she said. “What?”

“Specialty tools, diagnostic equipment, aftermarket parts,” Albert explained. “Anything portable and over the coverage threshold needed to be itemized and separately insured. It’s a pretty common exclusion in small business plans.”

Feeling frustration starting to build, Jo’s jaw tightened. “Let me get this straight,” she said, working to keep her voice even. “You’re telling me I’ve been paying for insurance all this time, and it doesn’t cover half the stuff they took?”

Closing his tablet, Albert gave her a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s less than ideal, I know,” he answered. “But yes, that is the case.”

“No, it’s bullshit,” Jo said, her voice sharp. “I thought I was covered. I wasn’t trying to cut corners. I picked a plan that was supposed to protect this place.”