𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕

Sleep. That's the one and only thing I want right now. My eyelids feel like they have ten pound dumbbells attached to each one, and every slow blink adds more increasing weight. I've already dropped this wrench probably four times in the past hour and a half. That's what happens when you need the extra hours and you show up at four in the morning, and are here until...

Wait, what time even is it?

Turning my head, I glance up at the clock that's mounted above the office door, telling me it's already nearing seven o'clock. I can't even leave here until these brake pads are done since I already started them. If I leave them, I know damn well Paul will "finish" them. If this car belonged to some politician, I'd say why not. But this mini van is driven by a single mom with two small kids. No way in hell am I letting Paul half-ass them and having their brakes seize on the freeway.

It's not until it's been an hour later and two brake pads completed until I realize I at least need some coffee or my bed for the night will be underneath this vehicle. If it wasn't for Caleb and Leah, I'd say fuck this and go home. But since they both need new shoes and Caleb has a field trip coming up that he's been excited about, we need the extra money. To me, that's a little more important than me getting a few hours of beauty sleep.

I stand and shuffle my feet to the coffeepot, dropping the lug wrench to the concrete ground with a loud bang. My phone vibrates in my pocket while the pot spits out a hefty dose of shitty, cheap coffee—but at least it gets the job done.

I have half a mind to ignore it, betting it's Angie asking where the fuck I am because the kids need to go to bed soon. Instead, I reluctantly pull it out and see Cassie's name flash across the screen. My lips defy me and curl into the smile I don't deserve to wear, but since nobody is around, I let it linger for a few seconds longer than normal.

I clear my throat before pressing the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey! How come you're still at work?" The sound of an engine reverberates through the phone, telling me she's driving.

"Just finishing up a job before calling it a night." I pull the phone slightly away to let loose a yawn that's been building in my chest for the past hour.

"Have you eaten?"

"Does coffee count as a three course meal?" I chuckle, pouring my fourth cup of the night.

"Cain," she drawls. "You can't survive on just coffee and chips. You need to eat something."

"It's done a good job keeping me alive for the past few years," I joke, pinching the bridge of my nose. I fight another yawn, but it's no use. Her voice has always had a lullaby effect on me—soothing enough to put even a bear to sleep.

The silence on the other end stretches on for several minutes. The faint sound of her blinker echoing in the background is the only reason I know she hasn't hung up or lost signal at this point. If I close my eyes long enough, I can almost imagine myself sitting with her. Her long, wavy caramel hair whipping around because no matter what the weather is, she insists she needs her window open. Her lips moving to whatever ridiculous song is playing on the radio. And that damn vanilla scent filling the space between us, intoxicating me in ways I'll never quite be able to explain.

"Did I lose you?" Cassie asks, pulling me out of my all too real daydream.

"No, I'm here. Sorry," I murmur, blinking myself back into the moment.

"So, do you have time?" she presses. I can practically hear her raising an eyebrow at me and see her playful scowl tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Time for..."

She laughs softly. "An oil change, silly. See, I knew you weren't listening. You were probably sitting there with your eyes closed, practically asleep. Am I right?"

Yes—but I'm not admitting that because then she'll jump into a lecture about me going home.

"Nope, I'm wide awake." I chuckle. "But yeah, if you want to swing by, I can give you an oil change real quick."

"Okay, I'll be there soon. Don't fall asleep."

She ends the call abruptly, leaving me with a stupid smile on my face in the middle of the empty bay. Thankfully Paul and Tyler took off to grab some mort parts, or they'd be eating this up and never letting me live it down.

While waiting for Cassie's arrival, I return to the minivan to attempt finishing the brakes. Thankfully, the make and model is a relatively easy one and doesn't normally give me trouble. I've worked here since I was barely seventeen years old and think I could do pads and rotors with my eyes closed at this point. Which, if I don't finish soon, is definitely going to be the case.

After the pads are finally complete and the van lowers back onto the ground, the sound of gravel crunching under tires and the harsh glare of headlights cuts through the shop. I can't ignore the way my heart plummets into my stomach, causing it to warm instantly, knowing she's here. But I know deep down I need to ignore that feeling, bottle it up and stick it into the overflowing fault that has become my brain, and never let it out. I refuse to let her down again.

Cassie hops out of her SUV, her door echoing inside the bay. While she walks toward me, it takes superhuman strength for me not to gawk at how incredible she looks. Her white dress pants hug every curve she has. And her silky, floral blouse? Damn near brings me to my knees. She definitely recently got her hair done, too. The blonde streaks are a lot brighter than they were the last time I saw her.

But what tears my eyes away, is a plastic take-out bag in her damn hands. I knew I should have just lied and said I had eaten. She probably doesn't even need an oil change and just figured it was a good excuse to drop by to feed my sorry ass.

"Hey," she greets with a bright smile.

My eyes flick from the bag in her hands to her mouth briefly before I mentally slap myself. "Hey." I gesture toward her car with a nod. "Keys in it?"

She gives me a smirk. "They sure are. Hurry up. I can't eat this burrito bowl by myself," she teases, shaking the bag in front of her.

"You didn't have to bring anything, Cass," I say quietly, walking to her driver's side door.

She crosses her arms across her chest. "Oh, so does that mean you were going to let me pay for my oil change this time?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

I chuckle before climbing into her car and easily pull it into the bay since she parked it right in front of the door. When I get out of the car, I grab one of the metal folding chairs and position it by the tool bench, knowing full well she's going to want to watch. She claims it's so she can learn to do it herself, but we both know that's the farthest thing from the truth since I taught her when she got her first car. But she knows I'm not leaving her in that filthy waiting room for Ryan or Paul to harass her with me not there to step it and tell them to fuck off.

She takes a seat while I grab the filter and oil pan, sliding it beneath her vehicle. While I wait for the oil to drain, I keep my eyes on the amber liquid, watching it slosh into the pan.

"So," she says before clearing her throat. "How's training going?"

I shrug. "It's fine."

"Just fine? What about Dante, do you like him? What has he been having you do?"

I glance over my shoulder, catching her propping her chin in her hands, watching me closely. I shrug again. "He's alright. He has me hit bags," I say with a chuckle.

I know what she's doing. She wants to find out if Dante's become my personal therapist and if it's actually working. Truth is, I think it's helping—relatively, anyway. I'm still angry, just not as much as before I started. Dante kicks my ass in that ring for someone so much smaller than me. Constantly keeping me on my toes and refuses to allow me to lose my cool. But I don't want to tell her that and have her getting her hopes up just in case it doesn't pan out.

"Uh huh," she says before clicking her tongue. "How's did I know that was going to be your exact response?"

A smirk pulls to one side of my mouth while I replace her filter. "I don't know. I guess I'm either super predictable or it's something to do with the over ten years' worth of friendship," I tease her.

"At least admit you like it," she pleads.

"Alright, fine. I don't not like it," I reply, flashing her a small smile over my shoulder before returning my focus to my work. "Dante's a cool dude."

"See, I told you that you'd like it." I don't have to turn back around to know she's smiling, her cheeks more than likely turnings a few shades of pink.

After the oil change is done, Cassie insists I come sit with her in the office to take a small break and actually eat something since apparently coffee, in fact, does not count as a three course meal. We sit on the uncomfortable, lumpy sofa while sharing a burrito bowl from Chipotle while she asks me more questions about training and asking how the kids are doing.

It kills me to see the saddened expression she wears every time she asks about Caleb and Leah, since Tim and Angie made it clear they are not to be around her. I paid the price the last time we both took them to the park, but only made it out with a swollen cheek that time. Ever since then when I try to sneak them out with her, Cassie has refused. It's been three years and they still ask about her almost every single day.

"So, where were you heading?" I ask, shoving a fork full of brown rice and steak into my mouth.

She brings a napkin to her mouth, slowly wiping away the remnants of rice that have stuck in place. Pushing her hair out of the way, she tucks in behind her ear before shifting in her seat. "My parents invited me to dinner, so I was heading there," she says quietly.

I nod with understanding, knowing that's the last place she ever wants to be. Every time Cassie has to go there, it's just bad memories all around since John and Gretchen refuse to move from next door, even though they can afford it. It's like they stay there on purpose, keeping Cassie's bedroom exactly the way it was when we were kids. Just another thing for her parents to shove in her face about how she "fucked up her life by helping the poor kid next door."

Before she can take another bite, her phone rings from her purse. She reluctantly digs it out, rolls her eyes, then shoves it back inside. "It's like she knows," she grumbles. "I should probably get going."

I nod and stand to start cleaning up the mess. "Alright, well, you're all set for another three thousand miles. But with how much driving you do, I guess I'll see you in a few weeks?" I joke.

She playfully swats my shoulder. "Shut up," she says through a laugh. "I do not drive that much. But you sit down and eat. I'll text you later."

I give her a two-finger salute and follow her out, making sure she gets to her car safely. Leaning on the office doorframe, my eyes don't leave her until I see another car speeding into the parking lot, its wheels screeching to announce its arrival. Tyler and Paul exit their vehicle and slowly walk toward the bay, keeping their eyes on Cassie's white SUV. Paul whistles low, and the sound instantly stiffens my spine, annoyance already buzzing under my skin.

Well, the peace and quiet was nice while it lasted.

They enter the bay when Tyler tosses the plastic bag onto the tool bench, clattering the tools resting on it. "Who was that?" he asks, swinging his head to watch Cassie's car depart.

"Nobody you need to know," I say, walking back into the office.

They both follow me until we're all standing inside. Paul's eyes sweep over the table, lingering on the remnants of the burrito bowl and two water bottles. "Doesn't look like nobody," he teases, lightly shoving my shoulder. But I knock his hand off of me quickly.

Tyler runs his hands through his shaggy light brown hair, dragging them down to the stubble speckling his cheeks. "Man, I don't know how you just let her leave. I would've hit that so fast. Especially since nobody's here." He puckers his lips, looking deep in thought, before I whip my head in his direction.

"What the fuck did you just say?" I seethe, my face scrunched with annoyance.

Paul holds up his hand as if trying to physically calm the situation. "Alright, alright, settle down. The kid doesn't know what he's saying," he states before slapping Tyler upside the head.

Paul knows me better than anyone in this place. He's old enough to be my dad, and is the one that showed me the ropes of this place. But since he knows me so well, he knows exactly when to take a hint and shut the fuck up. Tyler, on the other hand, only started a few months ago. The kid is barely twenty-one-years-old, and drives me nuts every time he clocks in. It was a matter of time before he said something to royally tick me off.

As I'm walking away, trying to swallow the growing aggravation, my hand barely hits the doorknob before he starts again.

"Did you see the ass on her, though? Definitely would have hit that," I hear Tyler tell Paul from behind me.

I quickly turn on my heels, shoving him into the hard surface of the desk. "Do you think talking like that will ever get you laid? Women aren't fucking objects for you to mess around with. And don't let me ever hear you talk that way about her again," I say through gritted teeth, pointing my finger out the window toward the parking lot.

Tyler's face quickly turns to an ashen white, swallowing slowly before nodding. "Yeah, man. You're right. Sorry," he stammers.

If you get into a fight, you're out. I can practically hear Dante's words echoing in my mind. I back up a few feet, keeping my eyes on him before turning around and reaching for the doorknob.

"And saying shit like 'hit that' isn't a fucking compliment, dick," I say before slamming the door behind me.

My hands shake at my side while starting my walk home. If I stayed there, it's almost guaranteed if he kept that shit up, I would have hit him. Do I feel bad for getting in the kids face and possibly causing him to shit his pants? Not really, no. He might be young, but he's old enough to know how to act. And I'll be damned if I hear anyone talking that way about woman period, but especially Cassie.

She's not some piece of ass, she's a human being.