Page 35 of First Chance

“Oh, um. Sure.” I climb into my passenger seat, immediately regretting it as he shuts the door behind me and walks to the driver’s side. My little BMW is way too small, and he’s way too big.

He takes up so much space that our bodies are within inches of each other, and I’m hyper aware of it.

My brain has replayed how it felt when he threaded his fingers into my hair the night of the fire every time I close my eyes to go to sleep…

I’m so deprived of any type of intimacy that I’m touch-starved.

But, here he is, so close to me that I could rest my head on his shoulder if I wanted to. I don’t want to, not with someone who thinks it’s a chore to deal with me.

Like he’s back in prison…

It was admittedly the worst ten years of his life, and I’m comparable. The pain of that is still as sharp as it was themoment he said it, and it makes the air in here suffocating.

But, I’m desperate to keep this job and to have a place to stay that my father can’t touch, so I have to endure it.

“You can sit over here.” Lochlan points to a short rolling stool before he lifts my hood and pulls out the oil dipstick. He wipes it clean, sticks it back in, and then pulls it out again to check the level. “You’re pretty low.”

“My parents’ assistant used to keep track of all the upkeep on the family vehicles. But, once I moved out, I lost all special treatment.”

He looks at me briefly, “I’ll fill your windshield wiper fluid, too. Hayes knows more about cars, he can make sure everything else is running right.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I didn’t mean to–”

“You’re a part of this place now. We’ll take care of it,” he insists, pumping the jack to raise my car, flexing the corded muscle along his bicep.

Part of this place.

A tingle emerges behind my nose and travels higher, making my eyes glossy.

“You okay?” He asks after I raise my head to ward off the unshed tears.

“I think the fumes in here are getting to me.”

He opens a side door to encourage more ventilation, but it only makes the moisture in my eyes worsen.

“Did you always know that you’d live here? Follow in your grandfather’s footsteps?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

“The day my mother dropped us off on his doorstep to take off for a more exciting life, my grandparents never hesitated to treat us as their own. They were my parents, and I knew I’d spend the rest of my life repaying them for their generosity.”

“Us?”

“I have a little sister. Becky.”

“She didn’t want to work here?”

He scoffs, “Hell no. She couldn’t wait to leave. She loved my grandparents, too, but she was a free spirit like our mom was. She traveled for a few years before she came back to help my pops out after my grandmother died, and I was in prison. As soon as I got out, I told her to take off. I couldn’t let her life suffer because of my shit. She settled down and has a family now.”

“You never wanted a family?” I ask hesitantly. His eyes go distant, and I know I asked the wrong question.

“No.”

I don’t think he’s telling me the truth, but I let it go. He’s my boss. Not my friend.

“What about you? What’s next once school’s finished?” I’m surprised he asked me a question; I was expecting all conversation to cease.

“I don’t know. I thought about touring different universities in different parts of the country and maybe pursuing a PhD or another Master’s degree.”

“Damn.”

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