Make You Mine

by Louise, Tia

  Gray’s eyes light up briefly when they meet mine, and I shove down the rise in my stomach at the sight of it.

  I don’t care.

  “I’m here to pick up my car.” I stop just inside the door and wait as Billy slides off the chair where he was sitting and goes to the rack of keys.

  “Right.” Gray clears his throat, clears away his obvious interest. Whatever. “So the engine turns over. The electrical system checks out, and the cooling and lubrication systems are all working and leak free.”

  I take the keys from Billy when he hands them to me. “You said there was bad news?”

  He takes a pair of heavy black glasses out of his pocket before he reads the clipboard. I’m not prepared for how my insides react to this new bit of information. He needs glasses? Also, he looks damn sexy with this new sexy-nerdy thing going on.

  “The transmission will need to be replaced. Also, the brake pads are pretty worn, and it needs new tires.” Blue eyes blink up at me behind those glasses.

  It takes me a blink to remember how to speak. “So I can’t drive it?”

  “You can drive it, but I wouldn’t wait too long. You need to bring it back in a day or two and let me finish working on it.”

  In my head, I do some quick math, my stomach sinking at the thought. “How much is all of this going to cost?”

  Billy starts to answer. “Transmission can run you at least eight—”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.” Gray takes off those glasses and returns them to his shirt pocket. “I’ve always wanted to work on this car.”

  The genuine warmth in his tone almost makes me forget how angry I’ve been at him all day. It’s so much like how he used to be, optimistic, excited. I want to reach out and touch his hand, hold him, but his signals are so mixed, I don’t.

  “I can bring it back in the morning if that’s okay?” I manage to give him a little smile, a sign I’m still here, waiting.

  He takes a step back, almost like he’s guarding a wound. “I’ll have to order parts for the transmission and tires—”

  “We can work on the brakes tomorrow.” Billy has been hanging back, following his new boss’s lead, but I can tell he’s pretty smart with cars. “We have what we need for that.”

  Gray nods. “If you want to do that, we can keep things moving.”

  “Thanks.” A little smile, and I slide into the seat, amazed at how smoothly the engine turns over. The car sounds like it used to.

  It gives me an unexpected sense of hope, of bringing something back that was broken. It just needed a little TLC.

  My hope turns to sadness when I get home and find my dad in the same place I left him this morning. He’s in that same chair, holding that same empty tumbler of scotch.

  “The Jag is almost back to perfect,” I say, taking the glass from his hand.

  He sniffs as if I’ve startled him out of a trance. “Drew. Don’t you need to go to work today?”

  His question makes my heart hurt. “I did go to work, Dad. I’m just getting home.”

  “What?” He looks around the room confused.

  “Did you sit here all day?” I take the chair across from him, inspecting his clothing. “It’s not good not to move all day.”

  “Danny never moves now. Your mother never moves.” He looks out the window again, and I’m at a loss.

  I know this is all part of his addiction. The alcohol feeds the depression, and the more he drinks, the less grasp on reality he has. I’m starting to despair at my inability to help anyone I care about.

  I decide to change my approach. “You know, Ruby likes to use dating apps to find guys to go out with.”

  He leans his head back, frowning at me. “A dating… app? I don’t know what that is.”

  Shifting in my seat, I do my best to stay positive. “It’s a computer program that matches your personality with other people’s personalities. Anyway, that’s not really the point I was trying to make.”

  “I’m not looking to date anyone.” He puts his hands on the arms of his chair and starts to stand. “I’m really tired.”

  “No, wait. I didn’t mean for you to date someone.” I scoot forward, catching his hand. “I was thinking about what you said. About nothing being anonymous in Oakville.”

  He straightens to his full height, looking down on me with disdain. “I hope this isn’t more of your harping on me to attend those meetings.”

  The way he says the word lets me know I’m losing the fight once again. I stand as well, even though my head only reaches the top of his shoulder.

  “Dad…” I do my best to carefully choose my words. “I know you feel sad because of Danny, because of Mom. I know it feels like you have nothing left… But you still have me.”

  His expression softens a bit, and he almost smiles. “Yes, and one day, you’ll leave me, too. Live your life, Drew. Don’t spend it worrying about me.”

  He takes his first slow, staggering steps toward the door, and I hurry up beside him. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Dad. I want you to be well.”

  I stop short of saying he has so much to live for. That’s a bridge we’ll have to cross when he finally gets sober.

  If he ever gets sober.

  If his liver and his pancreas don’t give out first.

  “I’m well knowing you’re well.” He continues, pausing at the door to adjust his posture. His proud posture, ingrained from childhood.

  We don’t have much left to make us proud.

  “I’m making shrimp and grits tonight. It’s your favorite.”

  “Don’t wake me if I’m sleeping.”

  He leaves me alone, and I slowly make my way down the stairs to the large kitchen. I take the bag of shrimp I picked up on the way home out of the refrigerator and start the water to boil for the grits.

  A canister of the dry hominy sits behind the coffee maker. I only remember a few recipes from when my mom was still alive. She taught me to make grits the old-fashioned way, boiling them on the stove top. Any good southerner knows how to do that, and anyone who lives along the coast knows how to boil shrimp.

  I take out a package of corn, sausage, and different colored bell peppers. While I slice them, I put the streaming music on a Motown mix. Gray got me interested in artists like Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye, and Al Green. He would hum the words in my ear when we slow-danced. The memory makes my skin hum.

  Once the peppers are chopped and the water is boiling, I close my eyes and remember him singing “Mercy, Mercy Me” in my ear as he held my body close to his. I can’t stop what I do next. It’s an addiction I’ll never get over.

  Me: I’m making shrimp n grits tonight.

  My chest is tight as I stir the pot waiting, wondering if he’ll even respond. The grits are thickening, and I slide them to the low heat when my phone buzzes on the counter. My heart jumps, and I pick it up.

  Gray: It’s your signature dish.

  Me: The only thing I know how to make.

  Gray: Your pancakes are good.

  Me: Sam Cooke is on Spotify.

  Gray: My favorite kind of night.

  My heart is beating so fast, the blood races in my veins. He’s like a drug.

  Me: You wear glasses now?

  Gray: Just for reading. Concussion weakened my eyes.

  That makes me frown.

  Me: I didn’t know you had a concussion.

  Gray: I hit my head in the blast. It left me pretty messed up for weeks.

  My chest hurts thinking of him alone after the accident, injured and so far away from home.

  Me: Are you better now?

  Gray: Somewhat. Not as many bad days.

  Not as many… I remember what he said about being changed.

  Me: Is this why you stayed away?

  Gray: Partly. I needed to heal.

  Let me help you heal. I don’t type it.

  The song changes to Marvin Gaye, and I want to sing it to him. I want to be secure in his arms, press my cheek to his chest. Ins
tead, I slide my finger over the screen, wishing it were his face.

  Me: I’ll see you in the morning.

  Gray: Night, Drew baby.

  I don’t even realize I’m crying until my eyes close, and a hot tear hits my cheek.

  Chapter 14

  Gray

  I manage to sleep without taking the pills. Texting with Drew wasn’t a trigger like I’d feared it might be. It actually soothed the ache in my chest and warmed my insides. It reminded me of better days, the days before the accident. When we were happy.

  When I wake in the morning, I’m still in the bed—not face down on the floor in the living room or on the couch. I know it’s only baby steps, but at this point, I’m ready to take all the encouragement I can get.

  Coffee made, I walk out to find Billy in the shop waiting, that knife and stick of wood in his hands.

  “You drink coffee?” I ask, holding out the mug.

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “I just had a Coke before I came in.”

  He’s digging that knife into the stick of wood, creating a line.

  “What you got there?”

  “It’s nothing.” He opens his hand, and I see the stick is now a smooth, yellow wooden carving of a whale.

  One of those old-timey whales like Moby Dick, but still a whale. I’m actually impressed.

  “That’s pretty damn good.” I hold out my hand, and he gives it to me. “Do you sell these or something?”

  “Hell no.” Billy laughs, taking it back. “Nobody wants to buy this shit.”

  “They might.” I take the shop cloth off the peg and tuck it into the back of my jeans. “How’d you learn to do that?”

  “My old man.” He follows me to the key box where a few cars left overnight are waiting. “He was in some of the fighting along the border when I was a kid. Messed him up pretty bad.”

  “That so?” I’m reading the work order on the envelopes containing the keys, but this catches my attention.

  “Yeah, he’d have bad memories, dreams. It was the only thing that calmed him down.”

  I take another look at the stick in his hand. “What do you use it for?”

  “Just to pass the time, mostly.”

  Nodding, I hand him two of the envelopes. “Bring these inside. Got an oil change and a brake job.”

  Billy’s hand is on the envelopes when his eyes move to something over my shoulder. He mutters words in Spanish I don’t understand, but I understand the tone. It’s pure lust.

  “Good morning, guys, who’s ready for breakfast?” The sultry voice causes me to turn, and Leslie is back again.

  Today she’s wearing tight jeans and a shirt tied up so her stomach shows. Leslie always had a banging body, and in this getup, it’s practically on full display. In her hands is a plastic container.

  “Hey, Leslie.” It’s pretty lame, but I’m not sure what to say. I didn’t ask her to bring us breakfast every day.

  “Don’t just stand there. Come eat!” She grins and winks, walking over to put the container on the worktable. “I made your favorite, cheesy biscuits with sausage crumbles.”

  The savory odor fills the garage, cancelling out the odor of grease and making my stomach growl. “Smells good.”

  Billy hustles over, and she hands him one of the round pieces of bread. He thanks her and heads out to bring in the cars. I walk slowly to where she’s leaning against the counter. Her back is arched, and she’s giving me that look I remember.

  “You don’t have to make us breakfast.” I take the small parcel she holds out to me.

  “I’m going to take that as a thank you.” She winks at me, turning to dig something out of her purse. It points her round ass right at me. “It’s just my way of welcoming home a hero. Since I was left off the guest list for Mrs. B’s party.”

  I rub the back of my neck. I’ve never been good with this kind of stuff. “Ruby said she was keeping it small.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Ruby never liked me.” When she turns around again, she’s holding a set of keys. “I found this roll of film at the house. I’m not sure where you can get it developed, but I thought you’d want it.”

  “Thanks.” I guess. I’m not sure I’m up to seeing what this small, black cylinder might contain. “Film is pretty old-school.”

  “I thought for a while I might be a photographer.” Her eyes travel around the garage before meeting mine. “We don’t always get to do what we want, do we?”

  “More like we never know where the road’s going to lead.”

  She smiles and steps forward, placing her hand my forearm. “Maybe the road will lead you somewhere new.”

  My eyes flicker to where her breasts almost touch my chest and back to her green eyes. Leslie never was one for subtlety. I’m about to ease my arm away when a high voice slices the air.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  I pull away, turning to where Drew stands, arms crossed, looking feisty and gorgeous as ever. She’s wearing a short skirt, and her long legs are smooth and tempting. Her button-up shirt is cuffed, and her slim fingers tap on her upper arms.

  She is not smiling.

  “Drew. What a surprise.” Leslie returns to her bag and lifts it over her shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the clinic?”

  My girl fires right back. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the salon?”

  Leslie acts bored, pushing her hair off her shoulder as she walks slowly toward the door. “I set my own hours. See you later, Gray.”

  Clearing my throat, I try to salvage this situation. “Thanks for the breakfast. You really don’t have to keep doing—”

  “I told you, I’m happy to give you whatever you need.” She does a little wink and steps out the door.

  Drew’s blue eyes are fire when she looks at me. “Whatever you need?”

  “I don’t know why she keeps coming here.”

  “I do.” Her tone is hard, but she shakes her head. “You know what? It’s not my business. I just brought the car back like you asked.”

  I want to argue with her, tell her nothing is going on with Leslie, it is her business. But what am I thinking? We haven’t had the talk we need. I haven’t told her what she needs to know about me, about Danny, about all of it. I haven’t had a chance to make peace with my demons. I’m still all fucked up.

  “What did your dad think?” The biggest demon of all.

  Her slim brows pull together, and I can tell my question hurts her somehow. “He didn’t see it. He was… tired when I got home, so he went to bed.”

  “He didn’t have any shrimp and grits?” I hope bringing up our text conversation lightens the mood.

  It doesn’t.

  “Will this be done by tonight? I’d like to use the car this weekend.”

  “You have plans?”

  Her eyes flash at me. “Is that your business?”

  My jaw tightens, and I know the answer. It’s not. I don’t have any right to ask her these things. Not after the way I’ve been.

  I can’t help it. “Do you have a date?”

  Her arms cross. “Maybe.”

  Anger flashes in my chest. It’s the same feeling I had the night I thought she might marry someone. I might be holding back, but I’m not ready to let go. I’m a bastard.

  An edge is in my voice now. “Who with?”

  “Like I said before, it’s none of your business.” She leans forward and says the words slowly, her full pink lips taunting me.

  My fingers curl against my instinct to grab her and kiss her hard. Instead, I redirect my thoughts, extend my hand. “I’ll work on it today. If anything comes up, I’ll give you a call.”

  She drops the keys in my palm. “I won’t be waiting by the phone.”

  Turning on her heel, she storms out the door, long hair swaying down her back. She’s so fucking beautiful. I’m so fucking screwed.

  Chapter 15

  Drew

  I’m so mad I could kick Leslie Grant in the crotch.

  Dot
ty is waiting with our coffees when I storm through the glass door of the clinic, but I don’t even stop to take mine. I go straight to my office. Naturally Ruby is right behind me.

  “Oh boy.” My best friend is too excited. “I haven’t seen you this mad since Rita Puckett picked Leslie’s pancakes over yours in the Junior Class cook-off!”

  “She hasn’t changed a bit.” I throw my purse on my desk and snatch up my telephone. “What’s Ralph’s number?”

  “Noooo…” Ruby hisses. “Try the app first. I’ve been really happy with Bumble.”

  “Weren’t you using Bumble when the guy farted really loud then went to the bathroom and never came back?” I level my eyes on hers.

  “You know, that could have been a health issue. I’m not ready to give up on Bumble.”

  I grab my cell and do a quick search. “I’m not looking for a health issue. I’m looking for a wake-up call. Here it is.”

  I type the numbers into my office phone and wait as it rings.

  “Sternwood Orchard. This is Sandra.” The female voice is only moderately perky. I wonder if she’s heard all the benefits of almonds as many times as I have.

  “Hi, Sandra, I’m calling for Ralph. This is Drew Harris.”

  “One moment please.” The hold music is some weird, atmospheric sounding techno.

  I wait through an entire loop before Ralph finally comes on the line. “Hello, Andrea? Is everything okay?”

  “Hi, Ralph, I’m fine. I was just wondering what you’re doing tonight for dinner?”

  “What?” He does a sputtering cough, and I imagine a spit take. “You mean for like a group-type thing?”

  “Not in a group. Just you and me.”

  It sounds like he might have fallen out of his chair.

  Ruby stands in front of my desk making pleading eyes. “Think this through, girlfriend. You have so much to live for. You’re just pissed.”