She Said It, Not Me
Griff
Maisie pushed through the connecting door like she had something to say. I didn't stop what I was doing. I just kept working the brake caliper on the cruiser I'd been pretending to care about for the past ten minutes.
She hovered by the door for half a beat before blurting out, "We need to talk."
I looked up. "No kidding."
She blinked. "Really?"
I set the tool aside. "Do you wanna go first, or should I?"
She looked gobsmacked, like I'd just offered to tap dance naked. After a long moment, she said, "Well…you can." She shrugged. "I mean, if you want." Something in her eyes flickered, like she was hoping for a pony, but expecting only shit.
"Alright." I gave the back room a quick once-over before asking, "You got a security system?"
She gave me a funny look. "Wait…what does that have to do with anything?"
"Hey, you said I could go first."
"Yeah, but…" She was frowning now. "I didn't think we'd be talking about the shop." She gave a weak laugh. "And besides, you know the answer to your own question."
"Which is…?"
"No." And then when I made no reply, she grudgingly added, "There is no system – as you're well aware."
Yeah. I was. "But there could be."
"Sure," she scoffed. "If I had a million dollars and all the time in the world." She sighed. "So let's just forget it, okay?"
I wasn't forgetting anything . "The money's easy," I told her. "I've got a friend in the business. He's looking for publicity, and he'll do it pro bono."
She squinted across the room. "I'm not quite following."
"He'll do it for free – as long as he can take some promo shots." There was no friend. Not yet anyway. But with enough money, you could get anyone to do almost anything. And you seldom had to wait.
Maisie was still squinting. For someone who'd been offered a free security system, she wasn't exactly jumping for joy. "So that's what you wanted to talk about?"
It wasn't, actually. But everything I wanted to say would only lead to hard feelings down the road, along with complications that neither of us needed. "It's a good offer," I said. "Say the word, and I'll make it happen."
She crossed her arms. "Why?"
I shrugged. "Why not?"
Her eyes narrowed. "That's no kind of answer."
"Alright. You want an answer?" I took a pointed look around. "Your security sucks."
Her mouth tightened. "Are you freaking serious?"
Yeah. I was. The thought of Maisie here alone, armed only with flimsy locks and a trusting nature, was enough to drive me nuts. "Dead serious. And don't forget those two guys."
She scoffed. "You mean the gumshoes?"
I held up a finger. " One gumshoe. The other guy was dressed in black."
She was staring now. "He could've been dressed like a chicken for all I care."
"Meaning?"
"It was a joke."
I didn't know whether she meant her crack about the chicken or the fact she refused to take the threat seriously. Either way, I was done messing around. "So, what day works for you?"
"For what?"
"For the security system, just like I said."
She searched my face. "Why are you doing this?"
I could've said the truth – that if something happened to her, I'd never forgive myself. But to keep it simple, I replied, "For safety. Why else?"
She made a sound – a half laugh, a half sob – that went straight to my gut. Looking ready to lose it, she asked, "Is it because you feel guilty?"
I wasn't following. "Guilty for what?"
Her chin lifted. "I don't know. You tell me."
I couldn't, because I didn't know either, unless I was supposed to apologize for living in a dump. That wasn't gonna happen. I hadn't apologized as a kid, and I sure as hell wouldn't be starting now.
Slowly, I picked up the wrench and turned it in my hand. "If you're waiting for some kind of apology, you'll be waiting a while."
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
And now I felt like a dick. Shit . I had been a dick. But I was no liar.
One time in high school, I'd met this girl at a fair. She'd been soft and sweet – a lot like Maisie. We'd dated for maybe a month, and then I'd taken her home to meet Mom.
Big mistake.
Mom was terrific.
The girl, not so much.
She'd wrinkled her nose at the kitchen and asked my mom if she could read.
The girl didn't even realize she was being mean. My mom was pure country, but that didn't mean she was dumb. She loved books the way some women love shoes. And yeah, our trailer was small, and the kitchen was cluttered, but that didn't mean it wasn't clean.
I'd dumped the girl thirty minutes later – the amount of time it took to return her safely to her parents' porch. And that porch? It was attached to a big-ass house on the lake.
She'd cried.
I hadn't.
And now, over a decade later, the eyes filling with tears belonged to Maisie.
Something in my gut twisted. "Maisie…"
She held up a hand. "Don't say it."
"Don't say what?"
"Don't say anything." Her breath hitched. "Let's just end it, okay?" And with that, she turned and pushed her way through the connecting door, leaving me staring after her.
The scent of her hand lotion – vanilla with almond – lingered in the quiet space. It smelled like happiness and peace and everything in-between.
I dropped the wrench and took two steps to follow. But then I made myself stop.
She'd said it. Not me.
It was probably for the best. I'd known Maisie for less than a month. Sure, it felt like ten times longer. And yeah, even now, she was something special – someone to warm your heart, not only your bed.
But she wasn't right for me.
She'd said so herself – at least in so many words.
I was still staring at the door. Yeah, it was definitely for the best.
But if that was the case, why did I feel like I was turning sideways and inside-out?
I blinked long and hard.
Fuck.