Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Jonah
There’s a certain satisfaction in detailing the van. A task needs completing. I complete it. Done. It’s black and white.
Vivian is not black and white. He’s vibrant colors screaming for attention. But he has these darker layers that I don’t know what to do with. If someone had asked me six years ago whether Vivian had any depth, I would have said no. And I would have been wrong.
The guy is complicated. He’s dramatic. Argumentative. A diva. And he likes to play that up. I was just needling him when I asked why he needed two suitcases. But his answer, although plausible, wasn’t the truth. Not completely.
I’m not even sure why I’m suspicious. Is it the way he gave in so easily? Or because I’ve learned to expect it?
I clean the van. It’s mostly dust, with a few spots that need scrubbing.
I want the van to shine. Not for Vivian.
But for my dad. We went on a few road trips when I was younger.
Before my grandpa died. Before mom fucked off for California.
Thankfully, she lives in San Francisco, so we don’t need an excuse for not visiting her while we’re in Cali.
Cleaning helps me settle, and when the van is finished, it looks a thousand times better.
The gray leather seats are clean and soft from years of use.
The carpet is worn but no longer dirty. There are a few stains that wouldn’t come out, but the exterior shines.
And sure, it’s old with two hundred thousand miles on it, but it no longer looks like it’s going to fall apart.
I drive back to the farm, avoiding as many gravel roads as I can. It’s impossible to miss them all. When I pull up the drive, Dad and Carolynda are walking to his Ford Taurus.
I jump out to catch them before they leave. “Hey, Dad. I finished detailing the van.”
He smiles absently. “Thanks, Jonah. It looks great.”
Disappointment churns in my stomach. Jealousy is stupid, so I try to avoid it. I want my dad to be happy.
But I also worked my ass off on the van because I know this trip is important to him. Is it wrong to want a little more enthusiasm? It feels wrong. As if I shouldn’t want attention for doing the right thing. That’s more Vivian’s style.
“You haven’t even seen the inside,” I say lamely. Jesus. What is wrong with me?
Dad stops with his hand on the door handle. “I’ll check it out when we get back, okay?” He shares a look with Carolynda, and I have no idea what that means.
I can’t stop myself from asking, “Where are you headed?”
“Store,” Carolynda says.
“Doctor,” my dad responds at the same time. They share an almost panicked look.
What the hell? “Which is it?” I try to keep my voice even.
Dad laughs. “It’s both. Carolynda has a doctor appointment, and then we’re going to the store to get some last-minute things for the trip.
” He grips the door handle but doesn’t open it.
“Are you packing the van tonight or tomorrow morning? Since we’re getting up so early and all, tonight might be better. ”
“Is everything okay?” I ask Carolynda.
“Everything’s fine.” Her smile seems genuine. “Just a routine checkup.”
They leave quickly after that, and I watch them until the Taurus is no longer visible. What the hell is going on?
Should I mention anything to Vivian? What would I even say? My dad and your mom are being super weird?
As I head through the foyer, I hear the click of Vivian’s shoes on the stairs. How is it that I recognize that sound so easily?
He’s on his phone and already halfway down the stairs when he notices me. He stops.
“Van’s done,” I say, expecting him to nod and move on.
Instead, he jogs the rest of the way down. “Let’s see it.”
“Really?”
“I’m not waiting until the ass-crack of dawn to see if this thing is fit to ride in.”
I roll my eyes, and he grins at me. Am I in an alternate universe?
But I lead him outside. His eyes widen when he sees the van. “Wow. It cleans up nicely.”
He inspects it thoroughly from the front bucket seats to the cargo space in the back. “Pop the hood on this baby and let’s check out the engine.”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. “Do you know anything about engines?”
He raises his brow. “Do I need to know?”
Fair enough.
“I didn’t clean the engine,” I warn him before popping the hood latch.
I want to check the fluids before we leave in the morning, so it works out. I expect Vivian to leave as soon as he gets a look under the hood. It’s all a big joke, after all. But he sticks around.
“Have you ever changed your own oil, Vivian?”
“I’ve never owned a car, Jonah.”
I bite back a smile. “Well, it’s good information to have.”
“I’m sure it is.” His words are almost a purr when he asks, “Are you going to teach me?”
My body doesn’t remember we hate each other.
Or that we’re stepbrothers. I’m having a hard time remembering it too.
I turn to hide my reaction to his words.
This is not the time or the place. That would be never and nowhere.
I’ve gone the last six years without ever having this problem. Why is it happening now?
Because it’s definitely becoming a problem.
But at least it’s my problem alone. There’s no way Vivian is into me. Why would he be? I’m way too boring.
I move closer so I can point out the different parts of the engine. “This is where you check the transmission fluid. And this is the wiper fluid. And this is the oil.” The scent of oil and gas from the engine mixes with the lavender from Vivian’s body wash.
“Who knew there were so many fluids involved?”
I never know how to take the things Vivian says, so I ignore that and grab one of the rags I brought with me to clean the car. I pull out the dipstick. “You need to wipe it off first, so you can get a good read.”
“Of course.” His face is in profile as he stares at the engine.
“Are you making fun of me?”
He laughs, giving me a little of his real smile.
I keep going. “After you make sure it’s clean, you stick it back in.” I don’t even have to look at him to know what he’s thinking. “Get your head out of the gutter, Vivian.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
I push the dipstick back in, then pull it out and hold it up for him to see. “It’s full because I’ve already changed the oil, but you can see that it’s right where it needs to be. If it’s below this line,” I say, pointing, “we need oil soon. If it’s below this line, we need oil now. Got it?”
He nods, biting his lip in concentration. Is he really taking this seriously?
“Now you try.”
“You’ve already checked it.”
“Okay, fine. Check the transmission fluid.” I point to the appropriate handle.
He pulls the dipstick using two fingers, his pinky out as if he’s afraid to get anything on him. I hate to admit it’s kinda cute. I hand him the cloth.
“Like this?” he asks, looking up at me.
I clear my throat. “Perfect.”
“And now I just…stick it back in?”
Oh Lord. He sounds innocent, but the way he bites his lip says something different. As he tries to push it back in the hole—for fuck’s sake—it gets stuck, wobbling when he tries to push harder.
“Hold on.” I take his hand to steady it. Everything seems to stop as I realize how close we are. “Turn it like this,” I whisper, rotating his grip. “Now push it in.”
“All the way in?”
Holy Jesus.
If I move an inch closer, our bodies will be touching. The sun is hot on my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the fire inside me. Together, we slide the stick in and his breath quickens.
Fuck. What am I doing? I let go of his hand and take a few steps back. His jaw is set as he pulls it out again and checks it.
“Looks good.” I give him a quick nod.
“How can you see it from way over there?”
I reluctantly step closer and check. “Looks good.”
He reinserts the dipstick, wipes his fingers, and hands me the cloth.
I release the hood, and it closes with a clunk. “Nice job, Vivian.”
“Thank you.” He dusts off his hands and gives me a side-eyed glance. “I learned something new today.”
Does he mean changing the oil or something else?
I’m not sure I want to know.