32. Jo
Chapter 32
Jo
“ G od dammit, c’mon you piece of shit!” The repeated banging of my palms on the dashboard is sure to get my point across. “Not today, come on!” I turn the key again, dropping my forehead to the steering wheel with a sigh.
It’s been three years since my dad died. Three years with absolutely zero issues with this dumb fucking car.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. You’re a great car.” I stroke the top of the dash with my finger tips. “Just please be a good girl and start for me.”
I scoff at myself, glancing around the parking lot to make sure no one is watching me speak sweet nothings to my car. Let’s be real, it would work on me, and it should work on her.
I turn the key again.
Nothing.
Guess she doesn’t share my praise kink.
Normally in this circumstance, I would be cool. I’d call Dad. He’d know exactly what to do. My grip on the steering wheel tightens, and I close my eyes as tight as I can, trying to focus on keeping my breathing steady. I’ve always been an anxious little shit, but since Dad died, it’s been so much worse.
“Okay, Jocelyn. What would Leo do?” I whisper aloud to myself in the silence of my car. I glance down at my watch.
Two p.m. Forty-two degrees Fahrenheit. Ninety percent chance of rain. Why am I sweating?
I reach into the backseat and grab my jacket. I’m sure I can figure this out. “Okay,” I huff, pulling the hood latch and pushing open the door.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
A cool breeze spreads the sweat at my hairline. I shiver, pulling my coat a little tighter around my core. “Windbreaker, my ass.”
Unlatching the hood, I prop it open, examining each component of the engine one by one. Alright, Dad, what am I looking for here? Hoping for some kind of sign from the heavens above, my eyes involuntarily gaze over the battery. My limbic lobe ignites with memories of Dad and Isaac together under the hood of Isaac’s car in the parking lot of his apartment complex.
“C’mon, tell me what to do, Dad.” I yell into the abyss of the parking lot. An entire lifetime of witnessing him work magic with cars on their last limb. Hours at the track while he offered to help fix engine failures for his competitors. A brisk gust of wind and rain hits the side of my face with a slap.
“Check the terminals.”
No. No. No.
I rest my hands on the plastic framing of the front end and grimace, completely and utterly defeated.
“If you are not world-renowned race car driver Leo Carello, I don’t want you here right now.” My head falls forward, and I feel the strain of my spinal muscles all the way down to my low back.
“Go inside. You don’t need to be out here in the rain.” Ugh, this man. I swear to God. I am not a child.
“ Bite me, Dr. Britlyn,” I seethe, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I am a strong, independent woman, and I certainly do not need him to help me. The rain has continued to pick up, splattering the engine block.
“I’m serious, go inside. And order a better jacket while you’re in there.” There’s an edge to Isaac’s voice that I haven’t heard in years.
The way I see it, I have two options. Either I can stand here and argue with him while getting poured on, or I can go into the faculty lounge and make myself a hot chocolate while he pretends to save the day.
“Hot chocolate!” I throw my keys at him, no explanation or elaboration, before I turn and storm off.
The hallways of the faculty building are quiet, minus the sounds of a distant copy machine and the rain pelting the wall of windows lining the west-facing wall. Tuesday afternoon before Thanksgiving means that every student has escaped the confines of campus and traipsed to every corner of the country to visit family.
I reach to pull my key out of my pants, the clear resin keychain encasing flowers from my dad’s funeral getting stuck on the edge of my pocket. Just him trying to annoy me while I’m already vulnerable.
“Not now, asshole,” I mutter under my breath to him as I turn my key and push open the door to the faculty lounge. A miniature Christmas tree sits, undecorated, on the laminate counter next to my electric kettle.
At least someone around here has the Christmas spirit.
I grab my kettle, approaching the tiny sink in the corner of the room. The tips of my fingers are bright white and numb, the blood vessels in my hands spasming from the cold. Dad would grab my little hands and stick them in his coat pockets when we went out to sled or build a snowman. Though it’s happened my whole life, it wasn’t until med school that I learned why.
A boom of thunder and flash of lightning occur nearly simultaneously as I glance out the window. I squint my eyes and attempt to locate my car in the parking lot. Though it was nearly empty moments before, there are now two cars directly adjacent to my sedan. The kettle begins to overflow, and I stumble to grab the sink handle before returning to the window. My nose presses up against the glass, trying to make out the shapes of Isaac and another man under the hood of my car.
Is that Liam?
There’s no way.
I frame my temples with my palms to block out the fluorescent ceiling lights in the lounge. Well, I’ll be damned.
It is Liam.
I’m out of the building and into the rain before I have time to pull up the hood of my jacket. The soles of my heels splash against the wet asphalt as I approach the Britlyn brothers.
“What the hell are you doing!” I yell over the sound of the pouring rain. They both turn their heads to look at me, Isaac’s hands on two jumper cables and Liam holding a yellow DeWalt work light.
“Taking a shower,” Isaac responds. Liam stifles a laugh, flashing the lamp towards me. I run around to the passenger door, quickly opening it and grabbing the extra umbrella I stashed for emergencies. I’d say this counts. I return to where the men are standing between the adjacent open hoods of mine and Isaac’s cars.
“Hey, Jo.” It’s been years since I’ve seen Liam. He’s tall. Almost too tall. Next to Isaac, he looks huge, his biceps straining against the wet sleeves of his hoodie. Maybe I was in love with the wrong brother.
God dammit, Jo. Focus.
I wipe the plastered hair from my forehead and smile.
“Hey, Liam. Good to see you.”
Isaac elbows Liam, signaling something, while I struggle to keep the umbrella open against the strength of the wind.
“Go back inside, you’re going to get struck by lightning.” Isaac says to no one, though I have to assume he means me. Liam pulls open the driver-side door to my car and cranks the engine to no avail. “Give it another minute or two,” Isaac yells. I assume he does not mean me this time.
I ignore his demand and stand firm, pellets of ice beginning to fall from the sky and bounce off the metal of the car and vinyl of my umbrella.
“Go again,” his voice carries through the parking lot, echoing off the sides of the campus buildings that surround us. Liam cranks the key again and the engine roars, sputtering and clanking to life. Isaac flicks a piece of wet hair out of his eyesight, turning to face me.
“There you go, Dr. Carello. All fixed.”
If not for the umbrella in my hands, I would most certainly be crossing my arms at this moment, but I refrain, opting for the ever so clever, “Wow, Dr. Britlyn learned about cars, ladies and gents!”
“Be careful, Dr. Carello. Next time I’ll leave you stranded here in the parking lot.” Liam rejoins us after pushing the car door closed, a furrow in his brow.
“I would’ve figured it out, Dr. Britlyn. I’m not helpless!” I harumph.
“Uh, well, hate to break up the love fest, but I should get going,” Liam chimes in, his eyes darting between us. “It was good to see you, Jo.” I nod, lifting my umbrella high in the air and allowing him to pull me into a wet, squishy hug.
“Thank you, Liam. You saved me.” He smiles brightly, turning towards his car as Isaac unclamps the jumper cables from my battery.
“Done ogling my older brother?” Isaac releases the opposite ends of the jumper cables from his battery and begins wrapping them in a tight bunch. He stuffs them up under his right armpit and reaches up to release the kickstand for my hood, letting it fall into its closed position. He repeats with maneuver with his hood while I rack my brain for a clever response.
“No.” Good one, Jo. Very clever.
He barks out an unexpected laugh, shaking his head. “Get in your car. I’m following you home.”