Chapter 10
TEN
PAIGE
“Girls don’t know anything about cars.” Ryder’s voice echoes through the house. “They can’t be mechanics.”
“Dude. Stop it. Girls know things about cars.”
“Have you ever seen a girl mechanic? Because I haven’t.”
“You’re seven,” Nate says. “How many mechanics do you know?”
“On YouTube, there’s not any.”
“How are you watching car stuff on YouTube? Give me your device, and let me check your parental controls.”
I stand in the kitchen and listen to them go back and forth in the living room. It makes me smile to hear Nate defending the female gender.
Dinner was nice and fairly comfortable after last night’s kitchen scandal.
I just kept my cool and tried not to talk too much for fear of appearing nervous.
I also tried not to stay too quiet so Nate wouldn’t think I was down in the dumps over his declaration that his little show was a one-and-done.
Me: Give me a random car fact.
It takes my brother a minute to answer me.
Banks: What the fuck?
Me: Just give me a car fact. Quick.
Banks: What are you doing?
Me: Trying to impress a seven-year-old.
Banks: Do I need to call Mom?
I roll my eyes.
Me: Do I need to call your best friend and ask him to give me a car fact? Because he’s the only other person I know that actually knows shit about cars, and I know he’d answer me. *winking emoji*
Banks: I wouldn’t do that unless you want to see me break his face.
Me: Then help me.
Banks: Fine. There are more than 30,000 parts in a car. Is that cool enough to impress a toddler?
Me: He’s seven. And, come to think of it, you’re more of a toddler than he is.
Banks: Yet you’re texting me for help. *thinking emoji*
Me: You’re useful for once. Congratulations.
Banks: You’re welcome.
I shove my phone in my pocket and make my way into the living room. Nate lounges in a chair by the window with Ryder’s iPad in his hand. Ryder sits on the floor playing with cars like my brothers used to play with. I settle beside him and wait for an opportunity to bust out my fun car fact.
“Give me the red one,” I say, pointing at a red sports car by a random army man.
Ryder hands it to me. “Do you like to play cars?”
“I mean, I don’t love it, but I’ve played my share of cars. One of my brothers loves them.”
“I love them too. I want to be a mechanic someday.”
Nate looks at him over his device and shakes his head.
“Well,” I say, sitting a little taller. “You’ll have a lot to learn. There are over 30,000 parts in an average car, you know.”
His eyes get big. “There are?”
“Yup.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that.”
I look up at Nate to see him snickering. I laugh.
“Maybe I’ll do a different job,” Ryder says.
“Weren’t you going to be a boxer or something last week?” Nate asks him.
“I forgot about that. But maybe I should be a firefighter. There aren’t 30,000 parts to that, are there?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but you can’t let that scare you out of being a mechanic. There will be lots of things to learn no matter what you do.”
He runs his car up my shin bone. “What are you going to do when you’re big?”
“Me?” I laugh. “I’m already big. But I’m in college to be a social worker.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, they help little kids and families with different things,” I say.
He looks up at me and grins. “You’ll be good at that.”
His compliment warms my heart.
“Thank you, buddy,” I say.
Nate leans forward and hands Ryder his device.
“You better get your shower, kiddo,” Nate says. “Use soap and wash your nasty feet.”
Ryder hops up, turns around in a sort of spiral, then runs to his room while making car sounds.
I lean back with my hands behind me on the rug and look at Nate. I’m not sure if he’s going to walk out of the room now that we’re alone or if he’s going to act like nothing happened … or if he’s going to address it.
“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” he says.
“I have?”
He shrugs.
Very perceptive of you, Nate. “Kinsley gave me a lot to think about today.”
He rests his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers together. “What about?”
“Honestly? Self-sabotaging.” I get up from the floor and sit on the couch. The power was too lopsided with me on the ground. “She made some good points that I’ve been mulling over.”
“She thinks you self-sabotage? In what way?”
I don’t know if I want to talk about this with you.
I watch him for a long time. The shower turns on, and Ryder begins to sing a song about getting lucky. That’s a topic for a different day.
“Kinsley thinks that I purposely pick guys who are bad for me.”
“I think she’s right.”
I flinch. “What? You do?”
He makes a face. “You can’t tell me that you really thought Atticus Jones was a good match for you. Hell, Paige. He has a rap sheet as long as my arm.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Then do better research. I thought that’s what women do. They went online and found out everything they wanted to know about a guy.”
“That’s a misogynistic statement, sir.” True, but still.
He rolls his eyes. “What do you think about that? Do you think you do that?”
Do I?
I take a long, deep breath and blow it out slowly. My heart beats faster than I’d like it to. It makes me nervous. Or maybe the nerves came first, and the erratic heartbeat is a reaction. I don’t know.
“If I do it, it’s not a conscious thing,” I say honestly. “I can’t deny the facts of the situation. It definitely looks like I pick the same type of guy repeatedly, and obviously, that doesn’t work out.”
“Why do you think you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I say, the answer almost a whine.
I don’t want to have this conversation with Nate.
But I know that if I don’t give him this—open up to him—then he won’t open up to me.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last eight months of working with Nate Hughes, it’s that I value his opinion.
And right now, I need to know what he’s thinking.
“I don’t know if I believe in forever,” I say.
The words flow from my mouth well before I realize I’m going to say it. It’s like my guard slipped, and my brain took advantage of the moment.
The problem is that I’ve been mulling it over and over since Kinsley drove off earlier. What does forever look like? Is it really even feasible? Is it real?
Does love actually work that way?
I gulp. Would anyone ever want me for that long anyway?
Nate’s eyes widen. “Really? You don’t believe in forever?”
“Look, my life has been … a lot of things, okay? My first nine years were either a shit show or in foster care—which also was a shit show sometimes. And I’ve never seen anything that lasted forever.
My parents didn’t love me forever. I haven’t had Hollis in my life forever.
I haven’t had the Carmichaels either. I don’t even have a baby picture of me.
So why should I buy into the idea that anything can last forever? ”
I stand, needing to move. Nate watches me like a caged tiger.
“I’ve never been the little girl to imagine a big wedding or a houseful of kids,” I admit.
“I just remember lying in a bedroom with blue-and-white checkered curtains and crying myself to sleep because I was alone. I felt detached from myself. I didn’t know the family downstairs, and Hollis, my protector, was gone. And I never wanted to feel that again.”
Nate’s face sobers. He continues to watch me pace the room. I move around until the hollowness in my chest starts to fill, and I can breathe easily again. Then I turn to look at him.
He’s so handsome. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that could elicit tears if I let it. I just want to hug him—to have him hold me, but I can’t do that.
Why would I do that? What would be the point? He’s not my type, which means letting him hold me would end in destruction. I know that. I can’t and won’t let him hurt me like that.
You don’t give them your heart … It’s why I pick the men I do.
“So maybe I do self-sabotage to avoid heartbreak.” I shrug. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
I wait until his eyes lock with mine.
“Why do you do one thing and then say another?” I ask. “That feels a little like self-sabotage too.”
He gets to his feet, running his hands down his thighs. “I’ll be really honest with you.”
“Please do.”
“I know what you’re getting at. I’ve given off mixed signals, and that’s not right.”
My heart thunders in my chest. I swear he can hear it.
“Paige, look …” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “My life is work and my kid. And my other part-time job at Landry Security. If I get serious about someone, it’s because I want forever with them.”
Oh.
“I’ve run around. I’ve dated. I’ve done all of it, and Ryder is seven now and impacted by all of that shit. And, quite frankly, I’m tired. I just want to settle down and maybe have another kid or two and build something together.”
“I can understand that,” I say, gulping a mouthful of hot saliva.
He steps toward me but stops. “I’m attracted to you. Clearly. Some days, it’s all I think about.”
Really? I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
“But here’s my conundrum—if something happens between us, it’s for naught. It’s only for a fleeting moment because I want forever, and you’re running from it,” he says, his words ringing with truth.
My spirits sink.
“And we can’t be a fleeting moment because if I touch you—really touch you, it would change things permanently.” He grins sadly. “I couldn’t stand to see someone else have you after that. We’d lose our friendship too. You’d have to get a new job. It would just suck.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding like I’m not at all screwed up over what he just said. “Good points.”
They are good points. And he’s right. Not one piece of me wants to even pretend I want to get married or have a kid or raise someone else’s kid. That’s for other people. Not me.
How can I be mad when he’s being honest? How can I be upset when he’s actually being thoughtful by being open with me and laying it all out there?
So I know nothing will ever happen between us.
“That moment in the kitchen was impulsive, and I shouldn’t have gone there,” he says. “It messed with your head, and I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m fine,” I lie. “I mean, I was unsure what you were thinking or whatever, so I’m glad to know. That helps. A lot.”
“Paige, I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.” My cheeks heat. “Everything is fine. We’re on the same wavelength now so that’s good. But on that note, in the spirit of being transparent with no manipulation involved …”
He half-grins.
“Do you want me to move out now? It’s not a problem if you do.”
He sighs. “I want us to still be friends. I want you to work for me, and I want to be in your life. Like we have been. Okay?”
I take a giant breath and hold it in my chest. I do want to be friends with him. That’s been the best part of what we’ve had. It’s the core of who we are—the reason we could flirt so harmlessly and tease one another. I don’t want to lose that either.
But I have to get our dynamic back.
“I hate to tell you,” I say, shrugging. “We can definitely be friends, but I’m going to have to start flirting with someone else. Maybe Murray.”
He stiffens but forces a smile on his face. “Good luck with that.”
“I wonder how he’ll take seeing me in my panties.”
I don’t wait for his reaction. I just turn around, grin, and walk to my room.