Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Chad worked as a diesel mechanic at Hart Brothers, a truck stop on the north side of GraceTown. He often joked that it was a dirty job, but someone had to do it. Then he’d give her that smile that had her heart flip-flopping. Or at least, it used to.
She glanced at him, taking in the neatly pressed khakis and plaid shirt that brought out the sharp blue of his eyes.
A flicker of something tightened in her chest—nostalgia, maybe, or a longing for the way her heart used to skip when he smiled at her like that.
Had it really been that long since she’d felt that rush? That breathless excitement?
“You look nice this evening,” she murmured, then sniffed the air. “You smell good, too.”
He grinned, the ease in his expression something that used to tilt her world. “I aim to please.”
Landry tried to match his warmth, but the smile felt like something she had to put on rather than something that came naturally. She hated that.
Chad was tall and broad-shouldered, with a mass of blond hair and a smile that nearly always reached his eyes. He was also a hard worker, and everybody liked him.
His love of cars and trucks—really anything with a motor— was as much a part of him as his easy laughter.
“Looks like Zesty Z got a bath today.” Landry had been the one to give the orange Z28 the nickname, and somehow, it had stuck.
“Couldn’t have her not looking her best for you.” Chad patted the steering wheel.
When they’d started dating, Landry had thought his love of cars would translate into a love of road trips, but she’d discovered it was quite the opposite.
Chad had grown up in a military family. He’d confided he’d moved so much growing up that he couldn’t say where home was. When she tried to get him to talk about all the places he lived and the things he’d seen, he would shrug and say one military base was pretty much like another.
It couldn’t be true. Unlike her, who’d lived in GraceTown all her life, he’d lived all over the world. Surely, he’d gotten to see some sights where he’d lived.
GraceTown had become his home when he was eighteen. He’d told her he’d come here to live with his grandmother when his father wouldn’t quit pushing him to join the military.
The drive was peaceful, the scent of mimosa trees drifting through the open windows. Chad rested an arm on the doorframe, inhaling deeply. “I love this time of year. Everything smells so good.”
“Honey, vanilla and a touch of almond.”
Chad turned to her, brow furrowed in confusion.
Landry gestured with one hand. “That’s what my mom says mimosa trees smell like.”
He sniffed the air, nodding in agreement. “I can see that.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, but Landry sensed something simmering beneath Chad’s calm exterior. Excitement? Frustration? There was an energy to him tonight, an undercurrent that she couldn’t quite place.
He started talking about work—a tricky oil leak that had taken time and patience to diagnose.
“This long-haul trucker pulled in today. Super frustrated. His Peterbilt was leaking oil, but no matter how often it’s been looked at, no one can find the source.”
“I can see why that would be frustrating,” she murmured, part of her waiting, wondering if he would acknowledge the shift she felt between them.
Instead, he reached over and took her hand, lacing her fingers with his, a gesture so familiar it should have felt intimate, but instead, it made her stomach knot.
“He swears it only happens when the rig is moving, so I tell him, ‘Let’s take it for a ride.’”
“Can you do that?”
“I did.” Chad smiled. “As we cruise down the highway, I’m watching the engine temperature and oil pressure. Suddenly, I smell burning oil. I say, ‘Pull over so I can investigate.’”
“What did you discover?”
“I spot a small crack in a valve cover that only leaks under the vibration and heat of high speed.” Chad sat back in triumph. “The problem was so elusive that it took just the right conditions to reveal itself. I patched it up and ordered the replacement part.”
“Congrats on a job well done.”
“Thank you.” When Chad paused, Landry knew this was her chance to steer the conversation.
If she didn’t, Chad might have another story to tell. If not one that involved him, then one involving another mechanic. “Vern brought in a new piece of memorabilia today. The mailbox—”
“Oh, I forgot the biggest news of all,” Chad interrupted. His excitement bubbled over, his words rolling right over hers.
Landry frowned and held up a hand. “I believe I was speaking.”
He barely seemed to hear her. His eyes danced like he was a little boy who had a delicious secret to share. “Jake promoted me to shop foreman.”
The pride in his voice was undeniable, and Landry knew this was a moment she should celebrate with him. She gently squeezed his hand. “That’s wonderful news.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“It means I’ll have enough for a down payment on a house soon.”
There it was. The dream Chad had spoken of since they’d met. A home. Roots. A future built right here in GraceTown.
Her parents had apparently been thrilled when he’d told them, insisting on a celebratory dinner tonight.
So a short time later, instead of sitting in their usual booth at Chowtown, Landry sat at her parents’ dining room table as her father praised Chad’s work ethic, beaming like Chad was the son he never had.
Then the conversation shifted.
“You need to convince Landry to get as serious about her future as you are,” her father said, nodding toward Chad.
Landry tensed, her fork pausing over her plate. “Dad, let’s not do this tonight.”
“Chad has it all figured out. Degree. Job. Promotion. And you? You’re making fancy, overpriced drinks.”
She swallowed, the sting of his words cutting deep.
“City Coffee is a job you have in college, not a real one,” he added.
Landry knew her father wanted only the best for her, but he had never understood her. Never understood why she longed to see more than the same streets she had walked since childhood. Never understood that she wanted to write, to create, to chase something more.
Chad shifted beside her. “Landry works hard,” he said, his voice steady, but she could hear the undercurrent of agreement beneath it.
Later, as they stepped outside, the night air wrapped around them, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and night-blooming jasmine. The quiet hum of crickets filled the spaces between their footsteps on the sidewalk.
Chad reached for her arm, his touch warm and familiar.
“Thank you for standing up for me,” she said softly.
He hesitated, exhaling before he spoke. “Your parents can be…opinionated, but it’s only because they care. Trust me, it’s better than the alternative.”
She glanced up at him, searching his face, but he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes.
When she stayed silent, he added, “They love you, Landry. They just want what’s best for you.”
She stopped walking. The weight in her chest grew heavier as she turned to face him. “Do you agree with them?”
Chad held her gaze for a long moment. Then, with deliberate tenderness, he cupped her face in his hands. “I just want you to be happy,” he murmured.
His lips brushed hers, soft and sweet, but as he pulled back, Landry realized something with startling clarity—Chad’s dream, her parents’ expectations, the life laid out before her in GraceTown… None of that was hers.
And if she wasn’t careful, she might wake up one day and find herself living a life she had never truly chosen.
Landry found herself watching the door the next Wednesday morning, anticipation curling in her stomach despite her best efforts to tamp it down. Would the handsome hunk with the cute accent make an appearance today? She told herself it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.
Mila leaned in, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “No sign yet?”
Shoving aside her disappointment, Landry shook her head. “Something probably came up.”
“Maybe he had to fly to London for a meeting with the king?” Mila’s dark eyes twinkled. “Or with the head of MI6?”
Landry chuckled. “You’ve been reading too many spy novels.”
Still, she found the thought intriguing.
“Can you ever read too many of any kind of novels?” Mila asked, and they both laughed.
The bell over the door jingled.
“No trip to London today,” Landry murmured, schooling her expression into its usual bright friendliness as two men approached the counter.
Perhaps the phrase two men was stretching it. One was more boy than man. If Landry had to guess, she’d say the one with the mop of reddish hair was a college freshman, maybe a sophomore.
“Happy Wednesday.” Landry was grateful she was at the counter rather than clearing tables—it gave her an excuse to linger a little longer. “What can I get you two gentlemen?”
“I’ll have a Coke,” the boy said.
“And I’ll have—” the man began.
“Black coffee,” Landry and Mila said in unison.
At the boy’s surprised look, Landry smiled. “He’s a regular. Even though I don’t know his name.”
A dimple in the man’s left cheek flashed. “Peter Elliott.”
Peter Elliott. Landry rolled the name around on her tongue, liking the taste of it.
“Landry Fisher,” she said, even though he hadn’t asked.
Mila crowded in. “I’m Mila Horton.”
All eyes shifted to the boy. “Alex Todd.”
After getting their drinks, the two settled at one of the few clean tables.
Mila nudged her. “Alex is adorable but way too young for us.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Now, hunky Peter, on the other hand.”
“I have a boyfriend, remember?”
“For now.”
Landry sputtered, but Mila only grinned. “One of us should bus those tables.”
Since Mila had done it last, Landry knew that someone was her. She didn’t mind. So many tables near Peter and Alex needed clearing, and if she was honest, she was curious about their conversation.
She started farther away, working her way closer, moving deliberately—slow enough to overhear, fast enough not to seem obvious.
Landry wrinkled her nose at the half-empty cups with packets of sugar swimming in them. Some people were pigs.
Today, the pigs, er, people, had streamed into the café as if it were feeding time at the trough.
From the conversations buzzing in the air, Landry had discovered freshman orientation was taking place at Collister today.
Parents and their children had swung by the shop early to fuel up for the day ahead.
As the nine o’clock hour neared, they’d all risen at once and left.
Landry set the gray bus tub on a chair and cleared the cups, plates and silverware scattered across the tabletop. She continued to move in slow motion, keeping her ear cocked toward the men.
She wasn’t nosy, Landry told herself, merely interested. A writer should always be interested in what went on around her.
“I have so many interests. Philosophy. Folk lore. Your class.” The boy’s intense blue eyes remained focused on Peter. “My dad keeps pushing me to pick a major. With a strong preference toward prelaw or premed. He did tell me he’d be okay if I wanted to go the engineering route.”
Peter took a long sip of coffee, his expression unreadable. “You’ve got another semester or two before you need to worry about picking a major. But it doesn’t hurt to start thinking about options now. What is it you want to do?”
Alex let out a sigh. “Let me tell you what’s off the table. No law. No medicine. No engineering. For sure, no accounting.”
Peter smiled. “Sounds as if you know more what you don’t want than what you do.”
The boy’s expression turned morose. “That’s the truth.”
“Why come to me, Alex?” Peter’s tone remained offhand, conversational. “Rather than your adviser?”
“Mr. Bellamy—he’s my adviser—is just like my dad.
He keeps pushing me toward careers that I don’t care about.
” Alex stared down into his cola for several seconds before lifting his gaze.
“You’re cool. I can tell by how you talk about things in class, you don’t judge.
I just thought maybe you could help me somehow. ”
Peter’s gaze turned thoughtful as he took another sip of coffee.
Since all the dishes were now in the bus tub, Landry wiped down the table as if it were to be used for an upcoming surgery, even going another round with the disinfectant spray. Anything to justify staying close.
“How about you give me a list of all the courses you’ve enjoyed?
Once I have that, I’ll give you the names of professors in those departments you can meet with.
The men and women I’m thinking of will be happy to sit down with you and discuss all the opportunities in those particular fields, even ones you may not have thought of. ”
Alex blinked. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. If you have time now, I could—”
A buzzer sounded on Alex’s phone. He silenced it and then offered a rueful smile. “I have a class in fifteen minutes.”
“You get me the information I asked for, and I’ll get you those names.” Peter smiled.
“Will do.” Alex pushed back his chair with a clatter and stood. “Thanks so much, Dr. Elliott. Really, thanks.”
Peter, who’d risen to his feet, sat back down at the table as Alex hurried off.
Landry hesitated before stepping up to his table. “Can I warm up your coffee?”
Peter blinked as if pulling himself from deep thoughts. “I’d like that.”
“Coming right up.” Landry scooped up Alex’s empty glass and put it in the bus tub, then headed to the front to get the coffeepot.
“I didn’t mean to overhear,” she said when she returned to pour steaming coffee into his cup, “but it was nice of you to help him out like that.”
Surprise flickered across Peter’s face. “I’m not sure I did anything.”
“You listened to him. You heard what he was saying, and you didn’t judge.” Landry smiled. “In my mind, that’s everything.”
Peter held her gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his golden depths.
Landry’s heart gave an unexpected jolt.
She had a boyfriend. She wasn’t supposed to feel this pull.
But as Peter gave her a small, thoughtful smile and lifted his cup, warmth unfurled in her chest as if something had settled into place. And deep down, a quiet, persistent whisper suggested that maybe, just maybe, she had been waiting for him to walk through that door all along.