Chapter 1 Broken Truck #2
His uncle had described them as people who would rather lose everything than admit they needed help.
Yet Jax had swallowed his pride and called him.
That alone made Eli curious.
“I’ll get started,” Eli said as he lowered the truck from the flatbed. “You’re welcome to wait inside. There’s cold water in the fridge if you want one.”
Jax glanced around the garage.
“I’ll stay out here.”
“You planning to supervise?”
“I’m planning to see how much this is going to cost me.”
Eli laughed quietly.
“Fair enough.”
He rolled his toolbox across the concrete floor and lifted the truck’s hood once more.
The failed water pump had leaked coolant everywhere, leaving crusted white stains across the front of the engine. It wasn’t the worst repair he’d seen this month, but it wasn’t a quick fix either.
“You’ve been ignoring this for a while.”
Jax folded his arms.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You mean you’ve been hoping it’d fix itself.”
“I was hoping it’d survive another season.”
Eli shook his head with a grin.
“Machines don’t work on hope.”
“Neither do ranches.”
That answer caught him off guard.
He looked up.
Jax wasn’t joking.
There was genuine exhaustion behind his steady expression.
Eli reached for a wrench and loosened the first bolt.
“So things really that bad?”
Jax hesitated long enough for the silence to become an answer.
“We’ve had three years of drought.”
“The cattle market hasn’t helped.”
“No.”
Eli removed another bolt.
“My uncle used to say ranchers are the most stubborn people in Texas.”
“He wasn’t wrong.”
“And mechanics?”
Jax looked at him.
“What about them?”
“We’re apparently dumb enough to keep fixing what stubborn ranchers keep breaking.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Jax’s mouth.
“I’ll give you that one.”
The conversation settled into something surprisingly comfortable after that.
Eli worked while Jax leaned against the nearby workbench, occasionally handing him a tool when asked.
It felt… normal.
Far too normal.
“So,” Eli said after several minutes, “did your grandfather really ban every Navarro from stepping foot on Harlan land?”
Jax rubbed the back of his neck.
“Pretty much.”
“My uncle wasn’t much better.”
“You ever find out what actually happened?”
“I got about six different stories growing up.”
“So did I.”
They exchanged an amused look.
“I guess neither family likes facts very much,” Eli said.
“They seem to prefer grudges.”
Eli chuckled.
“Those last longer.”
Jax wandered toward a faded photograph hanging on the office wall.
The picture showed a younger Eli standing beside an older man wearing grease-covered coveralls.
“Your uncle?”
Eli glanced over.
“Yeah.”
“He taught you?”
“Everything.”
“You must’ve been close.”
“We were.”
Eli carefully removed the damaged water pump before setting it aside.
“My parents died when I was ten.”
Jax turned back toward him.
“I’m sorry.”
“My uncle raised me after that.”
“You never left?”
“I tried.”
Eli reached for the replacement part.
“Spent five years in Dallas working for a performance shop.”
“What happened?”
“My uncle got sick.”
“So you came home.”
“There wasn’t really another choice.”
Jax nodded slowly.
“I know what that’s like.”
“My father passed when I was twenty-four.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jax shrugged, though there was nothing casual about the movement.
“The ranch became mine overnight.”
“That had to be rough.”
“I didn’t really have time to think about it.”
Eli studied him for a moment.
Maybe that was what seemed different about Jax.
He wasn’t carrying pride.
He was carrying responsibility.
There was a difference.
The cowboy spent so much time trying to keep everyone else standing that he’d forgotten how heavy the weight had become.
Eli recognized that feeling.
He’d carried it himself.
The garage had almost closed after his uncle died.
Every repair since then had been another step toward keeping the lights on.
Different businesses.
Same burden.
“You know,” Eli said quietly, “people in this town act like we’re supposed to hate each other.”
Jax looked over.
“They’ve been saying it long enough.”
“I’m not sure either of us ever got to decide.”
“No.”
Silence settled again.
Only the soft clink of metal tools echoed through the garage.
Outside, cicadas buzzed beneath the afternoon heat.
Inside, the air conditioner struggled against the relentless Texas summer.
Eli tightened the final bolts before reconnecting the hoses.
“Moment of truth.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key.
The engine hesitated for a heartbeat.
Then it roared smoothly to life.
Jax let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“I was beginning to think she was done for.”
“She’s got plenty of miles left.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Jax walked around the truck, listening carefully.
The rough knocking sound was gone.
The engine settled into a steady rhythm.
“Feels different.”
“It should.”
Eli shut the hood with a satisfying click.
“Just don’t ignore the next warning light.”
“I’ll try.”
“You won’t.”
Jax laughed.
“I probably won’t.”
The sound surprised both of them.
It wasn’t forced.
It wasn’t polite.
It was genuine.
For a brief moment, they weren’t Harlan and Navarro.
They were simply two men standing beside an old pickup in a small-town garage.
Eli wrote the invoice while Jax pulled out his wallet.
“I’ll need your signature.”
Jax glanced over the total.
“I expected worse.”
“I only charge extra when customers insult my work.”
“So that’s why I’m getting the family discount?”
“The opposite, actually.”
Jax snorted.
“I should’ve guessed.”
He signed the receipt and reached across the counter to hand back the clipboard.
Eli reached for it at the same time.
Their fingers brushed.
It lasted barely a second.
Warm skin against warm skin.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Yet something about the simple contact seemed to freeze the world around them.
Neither pulled away immediately.
Neither spoke.
Jax was the first to break the moment, clearing his throat as he stepped back.
“Thanks.”
The words sounded quieter than before.
Eli nodded.
“Drive safe.”
“I’ll probably be back.”
Eli raised an eyebrow.
“Planning on breaking down again?”
Jax glanced toward his battered truck before looking back with the faintest hint of a smile.
“Knowing this truck… it’s almost guaranteed.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
As the pickup rolled out of the garage and disappeared onto the dusty road leading toward Harlan Ranch, Eli remained standing in the open bay door longer than he intended.
He had repaired hundreds of trucks.
Met hundreds of customers.
Most were forgotten before the day ended.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he had a feeling Jax Harlan wouldn’t be one of them.
Several miles away, Jax drove home with one hand resting on the steering wheel while the repaired engine hummed beneath the hood.
His truck was fixed.
The supply run was finished.
Everything should have felt normal again.
Instead, his thoughts kept returning to a quiet garage, a confident mechanic with grease on his hands, and the brief touch that lingered in his memory far longer than it should have.
Neither man realized it yet, but something had shifted that afternoon.
The feud between their families suddenly seemed far less certain than the pull drawing them toward one another.
· ? ·