Page 89 of Ashes of Us
Perfect. Just perfect.
I checked my phone. 6:47 PM. Maya was in San Francisco for the weekend visiting her college roommate, Dad was on shift at the hospital until midnight, and Mom was at her book club, an hour away even without traffic.
The bakery's regular mechanic closed at six.
I pulled up AAA's number, then hesitated. Their wait times on Friday nights were legendary. I'd be sitting here for hours.
My thumb hovered over my contacts. There was one person I could call. One person who'd drop everything, who knew cars, who'd helped me load this exact van just three weeks ago.
No, Piper,I thought.Absolutely not.
I opened the AAA app instead, narrowed my eyes at the screen.
Estimated wait time: 2-3 hours.
I dropped my head against the steering wheel.
A knock on the window made me jump.
I looked up and there he was, standing in the November cold without a jacket, hands shoved in his pockets, that concerned furrow between his eyebrows that I used to smooth away with my thumb.
"Car trouble?" Liam asked through the glass.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
I rolled down the window halfway. Cold air rushed in, slicing through the warmth of the car.
"It's fine," I said. "I've got it handled."
He glanced at the hood, then back at me. "What happened?"
"Grinding noise. Burning smell. Then it just... stopped."
"Alternator, maybe. Or the belt." He shifted his weight. "You call someone?"
"AAA. Two to three hour wait."
Something flickered across his face: that problem-solving look he always got when something needed fixing. "Pop the hood. Let me take a look."
"You don't have to?—"
"I know." He was already walking toward the front of the van.
I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. I could tell him to leave, couldn’t I? could sit here alone in the cold for two hours waiting for a tow truck. Could maintain the careful distance we'd established.
Or, maybe… I could accept help from someone who actually knew what he was doing.
I pulled the hood release.
Liam disappeared behind the raised metal, and I heard the clank of him propping it up. I climbed out, wrapping my arms around myself against the November wind. The parking lot was mostly empty, only a few scattered cars around, and the fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
"Try starting it," he called.
I got back in, turned the key. The engine made a sad whining sound, then nothing.
"Okay, kill it."
