Chapter 4 A Wrench Between Us
POV COLE MERCER
The first honest conversation happened because Mara refused to let him use the wrong wrench.
Cole was under the old lift in Bay Two when a socket rolled across the concrete and stopped beside his shoulder.
"That is not a half-inch," Mara said.
"It fits."
"It rounds the head."
"I have removed bolts before."
"History suggests competence is not permanent."
Cole slid out.
Mara stood over him holding the correct wrench.
He took it.
"Thank you."
"You are welcome."
Neither moved.
He was tired of the careful version of himself. Not because careful was false. Because careful could become another way to hide.
"Lena and I were sleeping together before I left."
Mara's face emptied.
The garage noise continued around them. Air compressor. Radio low. Tank arguing with a supplier on speakerphone.
"I know," she said.
"You knew about one night."
"I knew enough."
"There were six weeks."
Her eyes met his.
There.
The wound was older than Rowan and somehow younger.
Cole sat up.
"I told myself it was because we were fighting. Because you were working late. Because Deke had me on the road all the time. All of that was true and none of it caused what I did."
Mara's arms folded.
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because if we're going to spend ninety days in the same building, I'm not letting you find out from somebody else."
"You think honesty after nineteen years earns points?"
"No."
"Good."
"I think you deserve the facts."
Mara looked toward the office.
"Then give me one."
Cole waited.
"Did you love her?"
He had expected anger. He had expected a demand for dates.
Not that.
"No."
Mara flinched as if he had said yes.
Cole understood too late.
If he had loved Lena, perhaps the damage would at least have had a shape.
Mara laughed once, without humor.
"You blew up our life for a woman you didn't love."
"Yes."
"That is somehow worse."
"I know."
"No. You know the sentence. You don't know what it was like to live inside it."
He put the wrench down.
"You're right."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she held out her hand.
"Correct wrench."
Cole gave it back.
Conversation over.
Not forgiven.
Not improved.
But true.
POV MARA QUINN
Mara drove home angry enough to clean.
Rowan found her at eight thirty scrubbing a cabinet door.
"Should I be concerned?"
"No."
"You clean when you're mad."
"I also clean when things are dirty."
"That cabinet has survived three presidents."
Mara dropped the sponge in the sink.
Rowan leaned against the counter.
"He say something?"
"Yes."
"About me?"
"No."
Mara looked at her daughter.
"About Lena."
Rowan's expression changed.
Mara had never made Cole into a monster for her. She had tried hard not to. Children noticed when mothers used facts as weapons.
"He said it lasted six weeks before they left."
Rowan frowned.
"You thought it was one time?"
"I knew it wasn't one time by the end. I didn't know how long."
"Did he apologize?"
"Not exactly."
"Good."
Mara blinked.
Rowan shrugged.
"An apology in the middle of information can be a way to make you take care of him."
Mara stared.
"Who taught you that?"
"You."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
They stood in the kitchen.
Mara opened the refrigerator and took out leftover soup.
"I asked if he loved her."
Rowan waited.
"He said no."
Her daughter's face softened.
"Oh."
"Exactly."
Mara heated soup.
At twenty-eight, she had spent months imagining Lena possessed something Mara lacked. Softness. Adventure. Beauty. Permission.
Nineteen years later, the truth was uglier and smaller.
Cole had wanted escape.
Lena had been available.
Mara set two bowls on the table.
"What if you forgive him?" Rowan asked.
Mara looked up sharply.
"I didn't say I would."
"I asked what if."
"Then I suppose I would forgive him."
"Would that mean you trust him?"
"No."
"Would it mean you want him back?"
"No."
"Would it mean I have to want him?"
Mara reached across the table.
"No."
Rowan nodded.
"Okay."
Mara squeezed her fingers once and let go.
Outside, a motorcycle passed on Ridge Road.
Mara did not go to the window.
POV COLE MERCER
Cole drove to the cemetery after work.
Deke's grave still looked temporary.
"She knows more now," he said.
The stone did not answer.
"Not all of it."
Cole rubbed a hand over his face.
He had spent years angry at his father for commanding too much.
Now he saw how often he had volunteered to obey because obedience saved him from choosing.
"That's on me too."
Wind moved through the maples.
Cole stayed until dark.