Chapter 32
Roy hadn’t planned it. That was the part he clung to afterward.
He’d gone out to the van that morning telling himself he was just checking something. Just looking. The gas can was already in the back of his truck from the mower, and when the idea slid into place, it felt almost reasonable.
Just a little. Enough to slow her down.
His girlfriend hadn’t told him how much. She hadn’t needed to.
He worked fast, heart thudding, the faint smell of gas sharp in the cool air. He didn’t measure. Didn’t think about how low the tank already might have been. He stopped when the can felt heavy enough, capped it and slid it back into his truck.
No damage. No broken locks. Nothing anyone could point to later.
Mia could’ve been stuck for a while. Late. Annoyed.
The thought followed him all morning.
Until Mia came back.
She didn’t slam doors or raise her voice. That would’ve been easier. Instead, she found him puttering around the barn like nothing had happened, wiping down a workbench that didn’t need it.
“You didn’t get the battery checked,” she said.
Semantics. He’d meant to. And if she thought it was the battery, he wasn’t about to correct her.
“You said you had,” she shot back. “You said it was handled.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Semantics. He’d meant to. That should count for something.
“My van died on the side of the road,” she continued. “I hit a tree. I lost a client.”
Something shifted in his chest. Not guilt. Irritation.
“You should have followed up,” he said before he could stop himself. “You know how busy things get around here.”
Mia stared at him in disbelief. “You’re blaming me?”
“I’m saying you rely on a lot of things just working,” he replied. “And they don’t always.”
She shook her head. “Forget it.”
Then she turned and walked away.
Roy watched her go, waiting for the guilt to come roaring back.
It didn’t.
Instead, a quiet sense of justification settled in. She’d assumed. She always did. Expected things to fall into place because she willed them to.
By the time he left and met his girlfriend later that afternoon, the guilt was gone entirely.
They sat in his living room, the curtains half-drawn against the afternoon sun, her legs tucked beneath her on the couch like she belonged there.
“She was upset,” he said.
She hummed, unsurprised. “Of course she was.”
“Mia blamed me for the battery,” he said, not correcting it.
She smiled faintly. “Did you lie?”
“No, but she assumed,” he replied.
She nodded. “People who assume don’t like it when things stop going their way.”
Roy leaned back, the tension draining from his shoulders.
“Maybe,” she continued gently, “she needs to learn that things don’t just happen. They’re handled, or they’re not.”
He thought about that, and for the first time since morning, the tight knot in his chest loosened.
After a moment, she turned toward him. “I need something else from you.”
His shoulders tightened.
“Nothing bad. It’s simple,” she said. “I just need access.”
“Access to what?”
“The kitchen barn,” she said. “A key.”
Roy frowned. “Why?”
She smiled and touched his arm. “Because you and her dad can’t be everywhere at once.
Deliveries come early. Clients show up when they feel like it.
If Mia’s not there and something needs to be unlocked or a question answered, it’s better to handle it quietly than call her in a panic. And not have her blame you.”
He hesitated.
“You already do half the work keeping things running,” she added. “This would just make it easier.”
He shouldn’t do this. He knew that.
But then he thought of Mia’s accusing eyes. The way she’d walked off, like he was just another problem she didn’t have time for.
“She trusts you,” she said softly.
Roy swallowed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
And for the first time that day, Roy didn’t feel guilty at all.