Chapter 15 Sally
Sally
Three Months Later
Today is the day. The air hums as I step into the garage. The tools are lined up like they’re ready for a show, and the strip light seems to glow brighter than ever.
Or maybe that’s just me, walking toward Nolan because he’s where every good thing in my life starts now.
He’s under the hood of a truck when I arrive, forearms flexing, eyebrows pulled together in concentration.
I want to kiss that focus.
He glances up when he hears me. The tightness in his posture eases. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey, you,” I whisper, stupidly aware of every inch of him.
“Ready?” he asks, wiping his hands on a rag.
I blow out a nervous breath. “Ready.”
He moves to the vehicle under the tarp and gently lifts it from the car as if he’s unveiling something sacred.
And there she is.
The Mustang gleams under the shop lights like she knows she’s the star of the show.
The dented panels are smooth now, the bodywork restored and painted in a deep, glossy midnight blue that looks black until the light hits it just right.
The chrome trim catches everything and throws it back with attitude.
The new wheels are vintage-style alloys, clean and sharp, hugging tires that still carry the faintest scent of rubber.
But it’s the details that bring the sting to my eyes.
The dash has been restored to its original glory, with fresh upholstery in classic black and silver.
The glove box still bears Grandpa’s old decal, carefully recreated in his handwriting.
And the custom shift knob Nolan gave me, Mustang Sally engraved in elegant script, sits proudly in place like it’s always belonged there.
I circle her slowly, hand trailing across the hood, the roof, the trunk. She purrs in my memory. In my bones.
“She’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Like her owner,” Nolan says behind me. “And she’s yours. Every bolt. Every weld. Every wire.”
Tears well, but I blink them back. Not because I’m afraid to cry, but because I want to remember every detail without blur.
Like this man who’s claimed my heart, the Mustang was never broken; she just needed the right kind of love to make her whole again.
Nolan gestures to the driver’s seat. “You do it.”
My heart tries to escape my chest as I slide into the driver’s seat and clutch the wheel. Nolan leans one forearm through the open window, bracing his weight, close enough that I feel his breath on my cheek.
“Turn the key when you’re ready,” he says.
I look at him. His eyes are warm and steady. His confidence wraps around me like a safety harness.
I turn the key.
The same guttural whine I’ve become familiar with greets me. Then, something catches. Chugs. Hesitates.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper.
The engine explodes to life. She roars. The sound hits my body like thunder under my skin. It’s loud, rough, and magnificent. The entire car shakes, vibrating with history and hunger.
My breath breaks into a sob. “She’s alive.”
Nolan grins as he witnesses the resurrection. “Things can be fixed if they’re worth fixing,” he says, repeating the very words he said to me that first day when I brought him the dream that he’s made a reality.
I don’t think. I fling the door open and launch myself at him. He catches me midair, arms around my waist, spinning me once in pure, reckless joy.
I bury my face in his neck and cry and laugh all at once.
“She’s running,” I gasp. “She’s really running.”
“You did this,” he murmurs. “You brought her back.”
We, I think. But my mouth is too busy kissing every inch of his jaw it can reach.
He laughs that low, rare rumble and sets me on my feet, but keeps me pressed against him.
The Mustang purrs behind us, idling, alive, and proud.
“I wish Grandpa could see this,” I whisper, emotion stinging.
“Why don’t we show him?”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Nolan nods toward the Mustang, that soft half-smile of his tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s take her for a drive. Let’s go see your grandparents.”
For a second, I can’t speak. The suggestion is so simple. So right. My throat tightens with sudden emotion, and all I can do is nod.
We don’t talk much on the drive. We don’t need to. The Mustang fills the silence with her steady growl, a mechanical heartbeat of metal and memory. The world slips by, summer gold in the fields, the horizon stretching wide.
Nolan drives with one hand on the wheel, the other reaching for mine across the seat. Our fingers stay laced the entire way.
We pull into the small cemetery at the edge of town, quiet and peaceful.
I lead him down the familiar path lined with wildflowers. When we reach Grandma and Grandpa’s shared grave, I pause, the wind brushing my cheeks.
Nolan hangs back, giving me space. Always knowing when to stay close and when to let me breathe.
I kneel and press my palm gently to the headstone. “Hey, Grandma. Grandpa,” I whisper. “She’s running again, Grandpa. And she’s beautiful.”
The words tremble out of me, full of grief, joy, love, and everything I’ve carried since they left.
I glance over my shoulder at Nolan, his arms crossed, watching me with that quiet steadiness I’ve come to depend on.
“And I didn’t do it alone,” I tell them softly. “I found someone. Or maybe he found me. You’d like him. He’s kind, even when he pretends not to be, and kind of grumpy.” I smile. “But he’s a marshmallow for me when no one’s looking.”
I press my forehead to the stone. “I love you both. I miss you.”
I stay there for a few minutes, letting the silence hold us.
When I stand, Nolan is already walking toward me. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I rest my head against him and look back at the car gleaming in the sunlight.
“She brought me to you,” I murmur.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “Lucky me.”
I look up at him. “Thank you, Nolan.”
“For what?”
“For believing in her. In me.”
His jaw tics like that hits somewhere he doesn’t let people see. “You made it impossible not to.”
When we finally drive off, the wind in my hair and Nolan’s hand on mine, I swear I hear Grandpa’s laugh in the purr of the engine.
And for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly where it should be.
The warmth in my chest turns molten.
I slide my hands up his chest, over the muscles beneath his cotton shirt. His hands settle on my hips, steady. Mine slide up to loop behind his neck.
“Sally…” he whispers, brow furrowed.
I cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing his stubble, knowing what he needs, knowing the uncertainties that still plague him now and again. “I’m not going anywhere, Nolan. I’m staying. With you. I choose you. Every minute of every hour of every—”
His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue delving deep. His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he pulls back an inch. “Then I’m done waiting for you to drive away.”
I cling to him, shameless, tasting joy and relief and hunger in every pass of his lips. He lifts me, sets me on the hood, the metal warm beneath me.
He kisses me like life is short and love is loud. And I kiss him like that’s the only truth that matters.
Heat coils slow and familiar as he pulls away, his breath rough as he rests his forehead against mine. “We’ll keep her running. Together.”
I brush my nose against his. “We’re a package deal.”
He kisses me again, sealing the agreement in shared heartbeats.
A cheerful little ding sounds from my phone.
We both groan.
“No,” I say. “The universe does not get to interrupt us again.”
He smirks. “Check it.”
I do—and laugh.
carbutt69: WHEN IS THE FIRST DRIVE VIDEO???
greasegirl88: WE WANT to see that ENGINE PURRRRRRRR
ToolTimeTina: I need more Grumpy Mechanic content immediately
“Guess they’re ready,” I say.
His grin widens, wolfish. “They can wait their turn. Today is for us. I’m driving you to that ice cream stand. The one your grandpa took you to when you were a kid.”
My throat tightens. I throw my arms around his neck and hold tight.
The Mustang gleams behind us.
She might be the reason we met.
But he’s the reason I’m not alone anymore.