Chapter 6 Hidden Wounds #2
"As long as I can remember."
"You ever wish you'd done something else?"
The mechanic looked around the garage.
Rows of tools.
Heavy lifts.
Shelves filled with carefully labeled parts.
His father's old wooden workbench stood in the same corner where it had always been, its surface scarred by decades of honest labor.
"I used to think about leaving."
"What stopped you?"
Jax took longer than usual to answer.
"My father."
Julian waited.
There was something different in Jax's voice.
Quieter.
Heavier.
"My dad built this place from nothing."
Jax rested one hand on the worn workbench.
"He started with a single service bay and a borrowed toolbox."
"He worked every holiday."
"Every weekend."
"If someone broke down on Christmas morning, he'd unlock the garage without complaining."
Julian smiled softly.
"He sounds like a good man."
"He was."
Silence settled between them before Jax spoke again.
"I spent most of my childhood right here."
"I learned to read using repair manuals."
"I learned math by calculating engine compression."
"My first bicycle sat on that lift while Dad taught me how gears worked."
A faint smile crossed his face before fading again.
"I always thought we'd run the shop together."
"What changed?"
Jax looked toward the office window where his father's framed photograph rested on the shelf.
"There was a fire."
The words landed quietly.
Julian straightened slightly.
"When?"
"Five years ago."
Jax's eyes never left the photograph.
"A fuel delivery truck developed an electrical short."
"The driver smelled smoke and pulled into the yard."
"He barely got out before flames reached the engine compartment."
Julian listened without interrupting.
"The fire spread faster than anyone expected."
"My father was inside finishing paperwork."
Jax's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I heard him yell."
His voice became quieter.
"I ran in after him."
The garage seemed to grow even stiller.
"I found him."
"He was trapped beneath part of the storage shelving."
"I tried to lift it."
"I couldn't."
Julian's chest tightened.
"The smoke..."
Jax continued,
"...was everywhere."
"I couldn't breathe."
"I kept trying."
"My hands were slipping."
"I could hear sirens getting closer."
He swallowed once.
"Dad looked at me and told me to leave."
Julian already knew what came next.
"I refused."
"I kept trying."
"He yelled again."
Jax closed his eyes briefly.
"He told me that if I stayed..."
"...we'd both die."
The memory remained as vivid as the day it happened.
"I finally listened."
"I crawled out."
"The roof collapsed less than a minute later."
Rain tapped steadily against the windows.
Neither man spoke.
"My father didn't survive."
Jax said the words with remarkable calm.
Too much calm.
The kind of calm that only came after repeating the truth to yourself for years because it still refused to feel real.
"I'm sorry."
Julian said quietly.
Jax gave a small nod.
"So am I."
He looked down at his hands.
"I still remember reaching for him."
"My gloves were burning."
"I couldn't get enough leverage."
"I wasn't strong enough."
Julian stepped closer without thinking.
"You were trying to save him."
"I failed."
"You survived."
"I left him behind."
The sentence carried more guilt than anger.
Julian recognized it immediately.
Not because the situations were the same.
Because the emotion was.
He had heard countless survivors blame themselves for impossible circumstances.
Logic rarely defeated guilt.
"You know..."
Julian began carefully,
"...I've sat with parents who lost children."
"I've sat with husbands who lost wives."
"They all asked the same question."
Jax looked at him.
"'What if I'd done one more thing?'"
Julian's voice remained gentle.
"The answer is almost always the same."
"There wasn't one more thing."
Jax didn't respond.
"My father died because I couldn't save him."
Julian slowly shook his head.
"Your father died because there was a fire."
"Those aren't the same sentence."
The mechanic looked away.
"I know that's what people say."
"I'm not saying it because people say it."
Julian stepped another half-step closer.
"I'm saying it because I've watched guilt destroy people who were already hurting."
"You can't carry every tragedy forever."
Jax laughed quietly.
"I've been trying for five years."
"And how's that working?"
The question wasn't judgmental.
It was honest.
Jax considered it.
"I still work sixteen-hour days."
"I haven't taken a real vacation."
"I sleep upstairs because I can't stand leaving the garage empty."
"I still hear the fire alarm in my dreams."
Julian held his gaze.
"So..."
"Not very well."
A faint smile appeared.
"No."
"Not very well."
The silence between them changed.
It no longer felt cautious.
It felt understanding.
Julian reached out slowly.
Not impulsively.
Not romantically.
Simply placing one hand gently over Jax's rough, grease-stained knuckles resting on the workbench.
"You don't have to keep carrying it alone."
The warmth of Julian's hand caught Jax completely off guard.
No one had touched him like that in years.
Not out of obligation.
Not by accident.
Simply because they wanted him to know he wasn't alone.
His eyes lifted to meet Julian's.
They stood impossibly close now.
Close enough to notice tiny flecks of green hidden inside Julian's hazel eyes.
Close enough to catch the faint scent of soap beneath the lingering smell of disinfectant from the ambulance.
Close enough to hear each other's breathing.
Neither of them moved.
Jax's free hand rose almost unconsciously.
His fingertips brushed lightly against Julian's cheek.
Not possessive.
Not hurried.
Just... gentle.
Julian didn't pull away.
Instead, he leaned ever so slightly into the touch before realizing what he was doing.
His heartbeat quickened.
Jax's thumb rested against his jaw.
Their eyes remained locked.
The space between them disappeared inch by inch.
Neither man seemed fully aware of who had moved first.
Julian's lips parted with a slow, nervous breath.
Jax could feel the warmth of it against his own face.
One more second.
One more inch.
Then reality crashed back all at once.
The municipal contract.
Station policy.
The damaged brake line.
The investigation.
The growing suspicion that someone was already watching more closely than either of them realized.
Jax stepped backward first.
His hand fell reluctantly to his side.
Julian lowered his eyes, taking a slow breath as he ran one hand through his hair.
Neither of them spoke for several long moments.
Finally, Jax cleared his throat.
"You should probably get Rig 6 back to the station."
Julian nodded.
"Yeah."
"I should."
The words sounded painfully inadequate.
They walked together toward the ambulance in thoughtful silence.
Outside, the rain continued falling beneath the yellow glow of the security lights.
Julian climbed into the driver's seat but didn't start the engine immediately.
He looked through the open window toward Jax.
Neither smiled.
Neither pretended nothing had happened.
Because something had.
Nothing physical.
Nothing anyone else would have noticed.
But a line had shifted between them.
They had crossed into dangerous territory without ever sharing a kiss.
As Rig 6 rolled quietly out of Cooper Auto Repair and disappeared into the sleeping town, both men carried the same unsettling realization.
The feelings growing between them were becoming far more difficult to ignore.
And far more dangerous than either of them had ever expected.
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