"You can't drive a car with bad brakes." He messes with the fans, turning them to high to help clear off the windows. "We'll get back to the shop and I'll take a look at it. Or if you want to take it somewhere else, that's fine. I just needed to get you off that bridge. It's not safe, especially with bad brakes. I keep telling the city the rails on that thing are too low. Last year some girls went over it and into the river. One of them died. Damn shame."
I look over at him as he wipes the water off his forehead, then his eyes. He adjusts himself in the seat, then puts the truck in drive and slowly pulls away.
If he only knew the truth. That I was the girl that went off the bridge. That my cousin was the girl who died.
I'm not telling him. He doesn't need to know. Just like he doesn't need to know what I was doing on the bridge tonight.
He ruined my plan. Tonight was the night. The one-year anniversary.
As we drive away, I look over the bridge, down at the dark water. It's where I should be. And where I would've been if I hadn't been interrupted. I would've jumped, and by now I'd be gone. If this guy hadn't shown up, I'd be gone.
3
Travis
We've been driving for ten minutes and she hasn't said a word. I don't know her story but something seems off with her. What the hell was she doing pulled over on the bridge? Hardly anyone even uses that bridge. The guardrails are too short and the lanes are too narrow. People think one wrong move will land them in the river like those two girls. I didn't live here then so I don't know all the details of the accident but I know their car hit the rail and went over, leaving one of them dead.
"What's your name?" I ask, trying to get her to talk. She talked a lot on the bridge so I don't know why she's so quiet now.
"Skye," she says so softly I could barely hear her. She's staring out the side window at the rain coming down.
"Did you say Skye?"
"Yeah. Spelled with an e at the end."
"Huh. Never met anyone with that name."
She doesn't respond.
"You want to call your parents?" I ask.
"Parents?" She laughs a little and adjusts in her seat. "No."
"I was just thinking if it's their car, you should probably get their okay before I look at it."
"It's my uncle's car. His old one. He's loaning it to me while I'm in college."
"You should call your uncle. See if he wants to take it somewhere else."
"He won't care. He doesn't know anything about cars. He takes his to the dealership and does whatever they tell him needs to be done."
"What's he do?"
"Doctor. Orthopedic surgeon."
"And what about your parents?"
"Don't have any."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not like they're dead. I mean, they could be. I don't really know. Never met my dad and my mom took off when I was ten."
I glance over at her. "Took off? Like how?"
"We were visiting my aunt and my mom left to get something at the store. She said she'd only be a few minutes but she never came back."
"And you couldn't contact her?"
"She doesn't have a phone. Doesn't believe in them. Said she likes to drift without feeling attached to anything. Like a phone. Or me."
"That's tough."
"It turned out okay. I gotta move in with my cousin, which was great. We used to—" She pauses, then shrugs. "Anyway, it all worked out."
"So your aunt and uncle raised you?"
"Yeah. They weren't thrilled with the idea but what were they going to do? I didn't have anywhere to go."
"They sound like nice people."
"My uncle is. My aunt? Not so much." She looks down. "I shouldn't say that. It's not that she's not nice. She just doesn't like me, or maybe it's that she doesn't get me."
"Why doesn't she get you?"
"She wants me to be all girly and wear pink and put on dresses and join a sorority. But that's just not me."
"You're more the goth type," I say in a kidding tone. I only said it because she's wearing all black.
"I'm not goth!" she says, raising her voice. It's the first sign of life I've seen in her since we left the bridge. "Why does everyone say that?"
"Who else says it?"
"You and—" She pauses, then sighs. "It doesn't matter. I'm just saying, I'm not goth. I like to wear black. That's it. There's no meaning behind it."
"Maybe if you mixed it up with a color now and then, people wouldn't assume you're goth." I'm only teasing but she takes it seriously.
"Like what?" she snaps. "What exactly do you think I should wear? Pink?"
"Pink might be nice," I say, which only makes her angrier. She's over there stewing, her arms crossed, leg tapping. I don't know why this particular topic set her off but I'm going to keep it going. "Or maybe a soft green." I flip on the overhead light. "Is that your natural hair color?"
"No." She reaches up and shuts off the light. "I dye it."
"Because you like the goth look," I say as if it's true.
"I'm not goth! I just like dark hair."
"Is your natural color blond?" I ask, although I don't see her as a blond. She doesn't answer me so I say, "I'm going to guess dark brown with some lighter brown mixed in."
She's quiet and when I look over I see her staring at me. "How'd you know that?"
I shrug. "Lucky guess? Was I right?"
"Yes," she mumbles as her gaze returns to the window.
"You should go back to it. The black's no good on you."
"I didn't ask your opinion," she says, accentuating each word.
"Why are you getting so angry?"
"Because I don't even know you and you're telling me how to dress and do my hair."
"It was a suggestion, not an order." I pause. "So what's really making you angry?"
"I just told you," she snaps.
"That wasn't it. There's something else. Is it a guy? Did he break up with you tonight?"
"It's not a guy," she mutters.
"Family troubles? Get in a fight with your aunt?"
"No," she says, drawing out the word.
"Classes? You did bad on a test?"
She sighs. "No. And stop guessing. I'm not mad. I'm just in a bad mood."
"Because your car broke down."
"No! And I just told you to stop guessing!"
"I'll stop guessing when you tell me."
"Why do you have to know? Can't you just mind your own business?"
"I could, but I find it odd you were alone on a bridge at night. Something obviously upset you enough that you wanted to be alone, but why there? Why the middle of a bridge at night?"
She shakes her head.
"What?" I ask. "You're not going to tell me?"
"I haven't made that clear by now?"
"I'm going with the breakup story. Explains why you're pissed at me when I haven't done anything but help you."
"You're not even making sense."
"You're pissed at me because I'm a guy, and you're pissed at all guys right now because one of us screwed up. It's understandable. Guys are the same way with girls after a breakup. When my brother was in high school, his girl broke up with him and he comes home and starts yelling at my girlfriend. She had no clue why. Turns out he was just pissed at the girl who broke his heart."
"Not that it's any of your business, but I haven't dated anyone for over a year."
"A year? Seriously?" I'm shocked because she's gorgeous. Who wouldn't want to date her? Sure, she's a little spitfire with attitude but a lot of guys like that. I happen to be one of those guys.
"Why is that so shocking?" she asks.
"Because you're hot," I say matter-of-factly. "You also have a great smile, although I only saw it for a brief second, but I liked what I saw."
She turns to me. "You're hitting on me? After just telling me you hate my hair and that I look bad in my clothes?"
"I never said I hated your hair. I just think you'd look good in your n
atural color. Natural is always better than fake. As for your clothes, I didn't say you looked bad in them. I suggested you try some different colors."
"You shouldn't be hitting on me," she says, leaning back in her seat. "Especially since you have a girlfriend. That's even worse."
"I wasn't hitting on you. Just stating a fact. You're hot. And you have a great smile. And that's based on seeing you in the dark. I'm sure you're even hotter in the light of day."
"Girlfriend?" She huffs. "Did you forget about her?"
"I don't have a girlfriend."
"You just said you did."
"That story was from when my brother was in high school. Five years ago."
"Oh." She pauses, then says, "You haven't had a girlfriend in five years?"
"I've had several. But that particular relationship, the one from the story, ended awhile ago. Four years, maybe? Not sure."
But I remember the girl. Jesse. She was a blast. Parties, drinking, dancing on tables. She was crazy, and it was good until I decided I needed more, like a relationship with someone who could sit down and have an actual conversation. Or dinner at a restaurant that wasn't a bar. I was growing out of the party-every-night stage of life but Jesse wasn't, so things ended between us."
"So you're not dating anyone now?" Skye asks.
"No. I've been on some dates but they didn't go anywhere. It's not that big of a town. There's not much to choose from."
"It's plenty big. And you have the university. It's full of single girls."
"That want to date a mechanic?" I chuckle. "Yeah, last I checked, college girls weren't interested in settling down with a grease monkey."
"There's nothing wrong with being a mechanic. And you own your own business. A lot of girls would like that."
"It's not my business. It's my dad's. I'm just running it for him." I turn into the lot. "This is it. Stranski Automotive."
The garage is an old brick building in the middle of nowhere. It's outside of town on a two lane road, a place nobody would ever find if they weren't purposely looking for it. Luckily, we're one of the few shops in town so that's what keeps us in business. That and the fact that my dad was a damn good mechanic and an honest businessman. So was my brother.
"Did your dad retire?" Skye asks as I park the truck just outside the garage.
"Last year. He was having some memory issues and wasn't able to do the work."
"What about your mom?"
"She passed away three years ago. She used to help Dad with the shop so when she died we had to hire Laney to do the books. She went to high school with me."
Laney's 25 like me and already has three kids. That baffles my mind. I can't imagine having three kids. A girlfriend? Sure. Wife? Maybe. But not three kids. She just had the third so she's working limited hours so she can be home with the new baby.
I point to the side door. "We're going to go right through there. I'll go first to open the door so you don't have to wait in the rain."
"That's okay. I'm already wet. And the rain's letting up. It's not as bad now."
Despite her saying that, I jump out and race ahead so she can get inside. It may not be raining as hard but it's still cold and windy.
"Right this way," I say as I flip on the lights. We're in the garage and I lead her through to the customer waiting area. It isn't much. Just some old chairs lined up in an L shape, facing the windows which are covered in broken blinds that need to be replaced. In front of the chairs are a few beat-up tables we've had forever that have out-of-date magazines scattered over them, and in the corner is a fold-out table that has a coffee maker and some styrofoam cups. It's pretty bad for a waiting area but I haven't had time to fix it up.
"It's nice," Skye says, looking around.
I chuckle. "It's not. It's old and shitty but we're a small town garage so you can't expect much."
Going over to the thermostat, I turn the heat up to high to warm the place up. I prefer it on the cool side but Skye is shivering.
"You want a blanket?" I ask.
"No, that's okay. I'll warm up." She rubs her hands over her arms.
I walk over to the other light switch and flip it on.
"If you don't like how it looks in here," Skye says, "why don't you change it?"
"It's not my place. And I'm not sure how long I'm sticking around."
"I thought you said you were taking over for your dad." She sits down on one of the chairs in the waiting area.
"That wasn't the plan." I go behind the counter to get one of the t-shirts I keep in the drawer by the cash register. "I'm not sure how long I'll be doing this."
"You didn't want to take over the business?"
"That was my brother's dream. Not mine." I undo the buttons on my shirt. It's soaked to the point I could ring it out.
"What was yours?"
"Doesn't matter now." I peel my shirt off and throw it behind me.
"Why doesn't it—"
I look up and see Skye staring at my chest. I smile as I pick up my t-shirt. Given her reaction, I might just keep it off.
"I've gotta dry off before I put this on, " I say, holding the shirt as I walk over to her. "So what were you saying?"
Her eyes are still on me but they've lowered to my abs. Back in college, I spent a lot of time in the gym, and since moving here, I've spent even more time pumping iron. There's not much else to do in this town and it's a way to burn off stress. With all that working out, I'm in damn good shape.
"Skye?" I look at her, smiling. "You still there?"
"Yeah." She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them really wide. "I think I got water in my eyes. Do you have a bathroom I could use?"
"Over there." I point to the women's restroom.
I watch as she gets up and walks over there. She's tiny but the girl's got curves. Cute little round ass. Perky breasts. Her clothes are damp and clinging to her, leaving little to the imagination.
While she's in the restroom, I put on my shirt and try to straighten the place up a little, stacking the magazines on the table and tossing the styrofoam cups left behind by customers.
A few minutes later, Skye walks out and my eyes catch on her face. It's in the shape of a heart, something I didn't notice earlier. And those eyes. Big, brown eyes with flecks of gold. Gorgeous. I bet her hair had those same colors before she dyed it. I don't know why she dyes it. That jet black color is too harsh for her, especially given her delicate features and fair skin.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks as she walks past me.
"Because you're hot." I turn and get a view of her ass. Those tight black yoga pants wrapped around that curvy ass? Sheer perfection.
Skye whips around to face me. "Why do you keep saying that? It's totally inappropriate."
"Saying you're hot? Why is that inappropriate? You're not my employee."
"I'm your customer."
"Are you?" I fold my arms over my chest and her eyes immediately go to my biceps, which look even larger when I cross my arms like this. "You haven't actually hired me yet. Or paid me anything. So you're not really my customer. But if my compliments bother you, I'll stop."
"Then stop."
"Done." I smile. "But just so you know, I have no issues with compliments so feel free to throw a few my way."
She rolls her eyes. "And what would I compliment you on? Your horrible timing? Your ability to interrupt someone when they're in the middle of something?"
I tilt my head. "When did I interrupt you?"
"It was just an example," she says, seeming flustered as she walks to the other side of the room. "What are we doing here? Are you taking me home or what?"
Thunder cracks above us, with enough power to rattle the building. The lights flicker, then go black.
"Shit," I mutter.
"I can't see anything," I hear Skye say.
"Just stay there. I'll come find you."
"Don't you have a flashlight?"
"It's in the truck and I don't want to go out there right now."
"Then stay there. I'll just wait here until the lights go back on."
Thunder crackles then booms so loud it sounds like it's inside the building.
"Okay, maybe come find me," she says.
"Why?" I ask, walking over to her. "You scared?"
"Maybe a little. I don't like storms. Never have."
"Just hold on. I'm almost there." I reach in front of me and feel something soft.
"Hey! Watch it!" she yells.
"What?"
"You just grabbed my boob!"
"Oh. Sorry. You can grab mine if you want to even things out."
I hear her laugh. "No thanks."
"Did I just make you laugh?"
"No," she says.
"I did. You just won't admit it." I step closer. "Give me your hand."
"I can't see you."
"Just feel around until you do. I don't care where you touch me. I promise not to press charges."
She laughs again.
"That was definitely a laugh."
Her hand lands on my lower abs. "Okay, I found you. Where's your hand?"
"Right here." I go to take her hand but then feel it on my crotch. "Um, Skye?"
"Where's your hand?"
I chuckle. "That's definitely not it but feel free to keep looking if you want."
"What? Oh my God, did I just—"
I take her hand. "You did, but don't worry about it. We're good now." I get a tighter hold on her hand and slowly walk back to the waiting area.
"Did I really just...touch you there?"
"Skye, it's not a big deal. It's more than I'd usually expect after first meeting a girl, but hey, some girls move fast."
She jabs my side. "I was not doing it on purpose. I thought your hand was down there."
"At my crotch?" I laugh. "Yeah, I don't usually touch myself down there with other people around."
She sighs. "That's not what I meant. I thought your hand was at your side. I just couldn't see your side because it's so freaking dark in here."
"Did it feel like my hand? Because if so that's—"
"No. It didn't. That's why I—can we just stop talking about this?"
"What would you like to talk about?"
"Nothing. Let's just not talk. Where's the chair?"
"Right here." I help her sit down on it.
With Every Breath Page 4
