15. Gabe
CHAPTER 15
GABE
I spend a long while shoveling snow, digging until I’ve worked up a sweat and my front drive is spotless. But no matter how much I shovel, the thoughts of Carly aren’t going away.
Why is she doing this to me?
This blonde bombshell has exploded into my life and made absolutely every part of it difficult, yet I can’t seem to keep from giving her what she wants or needs.
The offer to waive the fees on her car surprised even me. I’m not going to waive the fees on her car. I don’t care how much she’s struggling for money. I’m not betting my livelihood against hers.
I don’t care about her at all.
But no matter how many times I tell myself that, it isn’t becoming more true.
Eventually there’s no snow left for me to deal with, and I brave going inside again. At the very least, I want to change my clothes.
I find Carly in the kitchen, washing the dishes. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“It’s the least I can do after all your hospitality.” She’s clearly been crying.
It’s pathetic, really, for someone who claims to be independent, how lost and unable to fend for herself she seems to be. But in her defense, I haven’t given her much opportunity. Ever since she got to Mullen Falls, I’ve been looking after her like some sort of watchdog or stalker.
I hope she doesn’t think of me like that. We might be in a weird situation, but I don’t want her to think of me as creepy.
Waking up with her so close to me, though…
It was so close that I could have wrapped my arms around her. So close I almost wanted to. I guess what that really means is it has been too long since I felt the touch of a woman.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time.
“Let’s go into town,” I say suddenly.
She blinks hard at me. “Why?”
“You can’t just sit here all day. You’ll go insane. I have errands to run. You can come with me.”
“You want me to come and hold your bags?” she sniffs.
“I don’t want to leave you in my house alone. So go and get dressed. We’re going into town.”
With that, I march up the stairs and close the door to my room behind me. Possibly not the best way to invite her out, but at least this way, she’ll definitely come.
Twenty minutes later, we’re getting into my truck, and she’s complimenting what a good job I did clearing the front drive. “We’re used to snow around here,” is all I say in response, even if the praise does fill me with a stupid warm glow.
We drive in silence for a while. Then she says, “So, where are we going?”
“Hardware store first. I want to look at their tools. They have a sale right now. Then grocery store, maybe the farm on the way back. Though, I doubt the chickens are laying in this weather.”
“You buy eggs from the farm?”
“Do you repeat everything you hear?”
She shrinks back in her seat, and I grit my teeth in embarrassment. How is it that everything I say is the wrong thing? I’m so out of practice with other people. All I seem to do is get this wrong.
Not that it matters. She’s not staying. She’s made it perfectly clear how little she wants to stay, even if the idea of her staying for a few more days does thrill me more than it should.
It’s not permanent. I shouldn’t get attached. Getting attached is the best way to get yourself hurt.
We pull up to the hardware store, and when we get inside, I make a beeline straight for the wrenches and sockets. In truth, my toolbox is probably full of all the sockets a man could ever need. But lately, I’ve been swapping out all my old ones and collecting a full set of twelve points, just for fun. You never know when that kind of thing might come in useful.
As I salivate over tools, Carly wanders around. I feel like this is probably the exact opposite of every other shopping trip she usually goes on. I imagine she’s the kind of girl who drags boyfriends around the clothes stores and forces them to hold the bags while she tries on mountains of shirts and dresses and pants and makes him give opinions about every single pair of shoes or purse or socks or whatever else it is that women like.
She hasn’t talked about having a boyfriend, but I can just see it now, and I feel sorry for whatever poor guy she ensnares. But maybe now that she’s seen the other side, she’ll be less likely to make him suffer near a changing room.
Eventually her boredom gets so much that she comes over to me. “So why are we here?”
“Look at all these wrenches,” I say. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
I’m hamming it up a little on purpose to really drive the point home, and she falls for it, hook, line and sinker.
“I guess,” she says. “They’re all the same to me.”
“A wrench is the kind of thing you never want to get some cheap brand of. You need something sturdy, reliable. Something that’s going to fit any nut you come across and do the job without question.”
“You’ve spent way too much time thinking about this,” she says and laughs. It’s good to see her smile. It lights up her whole face, draws you into those bright blue eyes.
It’s almost enough to make you stop and stare, if you’re into that kind of thing.
“So what if I have?” I sniff. “This is my life right here.”
Another flash of emotion crosses her face, and she almost looks ashamed of whatever it is she’s thinking. “Being passionate is a good thing,” she says with a smile, and I grunt in response.
I suppose I am passionate about my job. I enjoy it. It pays well enough, and I’m not left wanting more out of my life. And I guess it’s relatively satisfying to see people happy with my work.
If I’m honest, it’s people like Phoebe that make me excited about my work — training the next generation to follow in my footsteps. More than anything, that’s what makes it worth it to me. Cars themselves, they’re exciting, but that’s just a job.
The pride is in a job well done. That’s irreplaceable.
“All right, come on,” I say, grabbing my cart. “I’m done here.”
I wheel over to the checkout, where Tim is waiting to grin at me. “Howdy,” he says, playing up his accent. “It’s been a long time since I saw you in here, stranger.”
I nod. “It’s been a long time since I needed anything.”
“How’ve you been?”
I shrug. “Busy. Tell me how the new oil lines in your car are doing?”
“She’s still running like a beauty. You really have those magic fingers.” I shift my weight from foot to foot. I hate people complimenting me in public. I never quite know what it is that I’m supposed to say.
“You’ll have to bring it in for its annual sometime soon,” is all I say, turning the conversation back to something I’m familiar with.
“I sure hope to see you sooner than that, though.”
I stare at the wrenches in my hands, focusing on piling them onto the counter, willing Tim to stop.
But he doesn’t stop. “We’re all here for you, you know, in the town. You just ask any one of us for anything, and any of us would give you it. You know that, right?”
“Ring me up, will you?”
Tim sighs and decides to give up on trying to get through to me. Good. He’s a friendly enough guy, but I don’t need anything. Not from anyone. I’m perfectly fine minding my own business.
As he scans the last of my items, he changes the topic and asks, “How’s the young lady working out? Keeping on your toes, I’d be reckoning.”
“Something like that.” I chuckle. At least this is something I can talk about more easily. “I must have spoken to you since I brought Phoebe on.”
He frowns. “Maybe a couple of times, but I feel like we barely see you at all since you got back.”
A rush of embarrassment flows through me. I need to get out of here.
I swipe my card and stuff the tools into bags. “I’ll see you later, Tim.”
“Sure will. Don’t be a stranger,” he says, and I turn to leave.
“What was all that about?” Carly asks as we leave the store.
“I’ve known Tim since he was a kid. His parents moved up here when he was a teenager. He inherited the hardware store from them. I used to get on well with his dad before he passed.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I don’t say anything because I have nothing to say. It was sad, but it happened. Life is one of those things you just have to move on with.
Carly gives me a curious look, like cogs are turning in her head. “What did he mean about helping you? Did something happen?”
My throat dries up. This is a line of questioning I don’t want her to pursue. Since I got back from the Air Force, I have drifted away from people. That much is true, but I don’t want to talk about my time in the military. I certainly don’t want to talk about it with her.
Fortunately, we get interrupted before Carly can push any further.
“Oh, my God. Gabe Fox, what are you doing out on the street?”
I clench my fists and force a smile as Ruth comes running over to us. “And who is your friend?” She grins as she looks Carly up and down. A light comes on in her eyes, and I know I have to squash this thought before it takes on a life of its own.
I’ve known Ruth since school. She and her boyfriend, John, were in my class, and we used to hang out a lot. I guess it’s my fault, but I haven’t spoken to them in a while, either.
John rushes over after her and beams at me. “Hey, Gabe, how’s it going?”
He eyes up Carly as well, and I say, “Hey, guys. Carly, these are my school friends, Ruth and John. Ruth and John, this is the girl who broke down the other night.”
“So we’ve gotta believe the rumors, then?” says Ruth, raising both eyebrows.
“No, you don’t,” I snap.
“This is the longest conversation we’ve had with you in months,” says John, and that rush of shame washes through me again.
We used to be so close, the three of us. I was kind of a jock in school, so I think the two of them used to enjoy my protection as a nerdy girl and a gangly, carrot-top ginger boy. None of that ever mattered to me, though. They were fun. We used to get up to all sorts of trouble.
I used to be a fun person.
Ruth shoots John a look. “Well, we’re so happy to see you. And to meet your new friend.”
“She’s not my friend,” I say quickly.
John steps in before Ruth can keep pushing. “Anyway. We have some news for you. We wanted to tell you in person, but we weren’t sure when we were going to get a chance.”
“We’ve been trying to invite you over for dinner,” interrupts Ruth, and I grit my teeth, trying not to react.
It’s true that I’ve been ignoring their invites.
She holds up her hand in my face, and the glittering diamond that rests on her ring finger is unmistakable. “You’re engaged?” I say, my heart almost falling out of my chest.
Ruth beams. “Finally, I know! He asked last month, and honestly, I was close to asking him because he was taking too long.”
I chuckle. “Typical. When’s the ceremony?” I try to ask nonchalantly, but a coldness hits me as I realize that maybe I’ve been so distant that they didn’t even bother to invite me.
Ruth’s face falls. “We want it to be soon, but we’re really struggling to figure out all the logistics. At the rate we’re going, it’s going to be years before it happens.”
“Well, you might be in luck,” I say, an idea springing to mind. I feel Carly tense next to me. But if she didn’t want this to happen, she shouldn’t have told me that she was worried about money. “My new friend here is a wedding planner.”