Page 105 of The Bro Pact
And maybe we were, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
WARREN
We’ve been home for a couple of weeks, and I’ve been elbow-deep in engine grease nearly the entire time, wishing we were back on the road instead. But I owe Pops for our third week with Carmen, so I’m going to work hard and make extra money in the process.
I definitely need it.
Pops says I have the potential to be his top mechanic and run the shop one day, but I’m not sure that’s what I want out of life.
This trip with Kyle made me realize what kind of future I might actually want if I can just step out of my comfort zone and take the right risks.
In both love, and my creative passions.
As soon as I finish up my last scheduled oil change of the day, I jog upstairs to our apartment, desperate for a shower and something to eat.
I clean up quickly, scrubbing my nails twice, and walk back down the hall to my bedroom with a towel wrapped around my waist.
I’ve been so busy working, I haven’t been keeping up with my laundry very well, and honestly, I haven’t even fully unpackedyet. I rummage through my bag, searching for something comfortable and somewhat clean.
My fingers snag on something soft with holes, and I pull Kyle’s favorite blue T-shirt out, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply.
It smells like fresh laundry and woodsy cologne. It smells likeKyle.
How did this get in here?
I’m sure he’s been looking everywhere for it.
I slip a clean pair of boxers on, followed by the oversized shirt and flop onto my bed.
Sighing loudly, I close my eyes for a moment, attempting to push through the loneliness and the fact that I miss spending every day with my best friend and sharing a bed together. I’ve been working overtime, he’s in school, and we’ve hardly had a moment to breathe since we’ve been back in town.
I’m exhausted after today’s shift, but I’m too hungry to fall asleep, so I pull myself out of bed and plod to the kitchen.
My bare feet slap against the linoleum floor as I make a couple trips to and from the refrigerator, getting all the fixings out for a glorious ham and cheese sandwich. But all it does is further remind me of my time on the RV with Kyle, and how much I fucking miss it.
“How was it closing by yourself tonight?” Pops asks, wandering into the kitchen and eyeing all of my ingredients.
“Good. Totals checked out. I locked up the cash, swept, and wiped down the counter.”
“Nice job, son. Makes me proud to give you more responsibility.”
Despite my overall gloomy mood, I smile at his praise. “Thanks, Pops.”
“And speaking of more opportunities, I have another proposition for you.”
“Yeah?” I perk up, very interested in what it could be after he gave me such an amazing opportunity like fixing up the RV and taking it on a trip.
“Mhm. Can we talk?”
“You betcha. Want a sandwich?”
Pops grunts, which typically means yes, and heads toward his office.
I quickly make our ham sandwiches and chase after him, eager for another chance to show Pops what I can do and prove myself.
“You did such a good job with the RV repair, returning it without a scratch and perfectly detailed, too. My buyer bought it on the spot, and it was nothing but a smooth transaction for me. So I’ve got another proposition for ya.”
