Chapter 10
ISAIAH
“Lunch!” Presley hollered into the shop. She’d been teasing us all about buying a dinner triangle so she didn’t have to yell.
Emmett set his tools aside with a clank. Dash slid out from beneath the car in the third bay. Leo popped up from the opposite side, shedding his gloves.
I was almost done with a belt change on a Honda sedan. My sandwich could wait ten minutes.
Dash, Emmett and Leo had spent the morning working on restoring a ’61 Lincoln Continental.
They’d been cutting out the swiss cheese floor, and though the whole car was rusted, it was salvageable.
The owner had given Dash a huge budget and free rein to make it a collector’s dream in two months. They’d jumped right in.
Meanwhile, I was doing oil changes, tune-ups, tire rotations and a slew of other general maintenance activities. I was putting in my time, working from the bottom up. Dash knew I wanted to get in on the rebuilds, and I trusted he’d make it happen eventually.
For now, I tackled the jobs Pres put on the board and kept the routine work rolling.
“Isaiah, are you coming?” she called from the office.
“Be there in a few. I’m almost done here.”
“Okay.”
Over the past month, lunch had become something of an event at the garage. When I’d first started here, I’d packed a lunch. All the guys had. We’d eat whenever we were hungry, usually standing in the middle of the shop, shoving food in our mouths and wiping crumbs on our jeans.
But since the kidnapping and since Bryce had taken over Dash’s office as her own, the dynamic in the garage had changed.
She and Presley pulled us together more often.
The lunches had started out randomly; someone would forget to pack something so we’d all order from whichever restaurant was delivering. Then random became regular.
It was early October and the last time I’d packed a lunch had been before Genevieve and I had gone to dinner at Bryce and Dash’s place last month.
Every day we’d congregate in the office for lunch.
We’d talk about nothing as we ate sandwiches or pizza or tacos.
We paid for our own meals, and while it was more expensive than a peanut butter and jelly, I could afford it since I didn’t have rent and Genevieve and I split the other bills fifty-fifty.
Some days, I didn’t mind eating inside the office with everyone. Others, it was too much.
Before prison, I’d thrived in the center of a group.
I’d lived for the noise and excitement of my rowdy friends getting together for some fun.
Most of them I’d known since kindergarten.
Most of them, not wanting to associate with a convicted felon, had forgotten my name before I’d even been sentenced.
There were a couple guys who’d reached out after I’d been released and had moved home with Mom. I’d ghosted their calls until they’d stopped altogether.
I didn’t need their pity.
The guys, Presley and Bryce didn’t judge my past because they didn’t know it. Dash knew I’d been convicted of manslaughter, Draven too. But the details behind it were not something I shared.
When we were working in the shop, the guys didn’t ask me personal questions. Lunch was a whole different story. Though I’d escaped it so far, it was only a matter of time before Bryce wanted to know more about my life. I’d deflect, like I’d done with Genevieve.
And I’d alienate them, like I’d done with Genevieve.
My stomach growled and I hustled to finish the job. As I was washing up at the sink, a cold wind blew into the garage. A flurry of snowflakes fell on the pavement, only to melt a moment later.
The snow had already hit in the mountains, and with it flying this early, winter was likely to be a bitch.
Not that I minded the snow.
The first winter of my parole, I’d spent a lot of time on Mom’s deck, looking over the smooth, snow-covered yard.
There was peace in the snow. A clean blanket, it erased the death of fall.
Maybe I’d brush off a picnic table in the barbeque area behind the garage and take my lunch breaks out there this winter.
On the days when the office felt too much like a cage.
“Hey, Isaiah.”
I shut off the water, turning from the sink as Bryce came over. She lifted up a lunch sack with my name on it.
“Thanks.”
“Sure. I didn’t want it to get soggy.”
I’d ordered the cheesesteak and after about thirty minutes, the bread tended to soften. I ate it anyway. Soggy bread was better than any meal I’d had in prison.
Bryce didn’t return to the office, but took a round, rolling stool a few feet away. She tucked her fingers into the sleeves of her sweater.
Guess we’re eating lunch together.
I pushed over another one of the stools and tore into my brown paper bag. “Did you eat?”
She shook her head. “I ordered chicken salad, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but the smell got to me. Apparently, this baby only likes red meat.”
My cheesesteak was divided into two aluminum-wrapped sections. I held up one half. “Want it?”
“Would you mind?”
“Bring me your chicken salad later and we’ll call it a trade.”
“Deal.” She tore into the sandwich and took a huge bite, moaning as she chewed, then swallowed. “Genevieve said you’re from Bozeman. I didn’t know that.”
“Yep.” I dove into my sandwich, already wishing I’d gone into the office when Pres had called. Questions were easier to dodge in a group. One-on-one with Bryce? I was fucked.
“That’s where I grew up.”
My jaw stopped. My shoulders stiffened. Did she know? She couldn’t know, right? “Small world.”
“Especially in Montana. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Oh. I’m thirty-five. We just missed each other in high school.”
There was only one in Bozeman. “You might know my older brother. Kaine Reynolds?”
Her eyes bulged. “Kaine Reynolds is your older brother?”
“Uh . . . yeah.” Shit. Why had I said that? I was a goddamn fool. I’d opened the door wide open to my past.
A blush crept up Bryce’s cheeks and a grin spread across her face. “Kaine was a year older than me, but I knew him. I think all the girls knew him.”
No shock there. Most girls in high school and middle school had been in love with my brother. Kaine had an effortless kind of cool. He didn’t have an awkward bone in his body. Where I’d had a miserably awkward teenage phase, Kaine had skipped it.
He’d been the kid who wasn’t in anyone’s clique because he’d had a clique of his own. He’d never needed a bunch of friends like I had. Or used to. He was content alone.
I’d stopped at nothing to be the center of attention in high school. I was the kid who took every dare. The boy who started fights when necessary. The class clown teachers dreaded to see on their roster.
That was before Shannon.
Now I was more reclusive than Kaine had ever been.
“I had the biggest crush on him,” Bryce admitted.
“Most girls did.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Good. Happy. He lives in Lark Cove, up by Flathead Lake, with his wife.”
“Glad to hear it.” She smiled. “Next time you talk to him, tell him Bryce Ryan says hello.”
“I’ll do that.” I took another bite, chewing furiously, wanting to keep my mouth full so we didn’t get into more about my life.
Maybe I’d dodged that bullet. Bryce didn’t seem to know anything about the accident. Hopefully, she wouldn’t go digging.
I’d come to Clifton Forge to escape my past, not talk about it. There were too many ghosts in Bozeman. Too many bad memories. Here, for the most part, no one cared.
Except Genevieve.
She’d been quiet lately and standoffish. I’d hurt her feelings last month when I’d refused to answer her question and I hated myself for it.
She deserved to know what kind of man slept on the couch beside her every night. But every time the window presented itself, I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
She’d judge me, rightly so. Coward that I was, I didn’t want to see fear or judgment in her eyes—not from her. Or worse, pity. Genevieve knew I’d been in prison, but she’d never asked for what crime. Ever since the cabin, she’d put me on a pedestal. She thought I was a good man.
I wasn’t.
But damn, it was nice to feel worthy for a change. To be worthy of a woman like Genevieve was nothing short of a miracle.
I wasn’t ready to throw a miracle away with the truth.
A car door slammed out front. Outside, a black Chevy Blazer had parked in front of the office. It was probably another simple job. Maybe someone wanted to get a jump start on ordering snow tires.
I’d swallowed my bite and set my sandwich aside, ready to go out and greet the customer, when I looked up and my heart dropped.
“Mom?”
She didn’t hear me. She was on her way to the office.
I hustled through the shop, dodging parts and tools on my way. “Mom!”
Her head whipped around, and a smile brightened her face. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I pulled her in for a hug, and she kissed me on the cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s been months since I’ve seen you. You’re always so busy working when I call. I took the day off and thought I’d come for a surprise visit. You can show me the bike you’ve been working on. Maybe after you’re off, we can go out to dinner.”
“Uh . . . sure.” All things that would normally be fine.
Except for the fact that in a matter of hours, my wife would be home.
Shit. Genevieve had asked me if I’d told my family about our marriage. I’d dodged that question because I still hadn’t told them.
Mom and Kaine were the past. Genevieve was the present. I was doing everything in my power to keep the two from converging. It would be too painful, for all of us.
When Mom learned that I’d kept my marriage from her for months, she’d be destroyed. What the fuck was I doing? I should have called her from the motel on my wedding night. Hadn’t I hurt her enough?
Maybe if I got to Genevieve first, introduced her as my girlfriend, we could spare Mom’s feelings. Genevieve would be pissed, but in the scheme of things, the scales weren’t balanced. I could suffer Genevieve’s disappointment. I wouldn’t pile more on Mom.