At the Stars(24)
He shakes his head and moves the ad to the growing “no” pile. “Trying to cover all the options.” Another page comes out, this one hand-written and full of numbers. “I called again about a refurbished engine. I can maybe get them to come down a little on the price. Like five hundred bucks. It’s actually a really good deal.”
All this money talk is making me queasy, and I’m wishing I hadn’t had those shots of espresso during my shift. It’s just that I haven’t slept well in... years, I guess. “That’s still like five grand for a new engine after labor and everything?”
He gives a serious nod like he’d just told me my dog is dying. “Like I said, I can try to give you a break on the work. What I can’t be sure of is what else I might find when I get in there to remove the old one. Assuming your old engine mounts are still good and we don’t need any other parts, then yes. Probably closer to five.”
Dammit. That’s such a huge chunk of my savings. I think of AJ and how lucky I am, and the fact that not much separates me from his stint of being forced to live on the street, except that I managed to hang onto a few bucks after my mother’s death.
A voice in my head argues that this is the sort of situation that my mother’s money is supposed to be for. Another counters that all I have left of my mom is that money. The only safety I have is that money. If I spend it, what else is there? Besides... “Even if I spend all that money to fix the engine, what are the chances that something else will break as soon as it’s back on the road?”
I don’t want to let fear make my decisions, but I don’t want to be reckless.
Jake rubs a hand over his stubble. “The engine would come with a warranty, but it’s an old car. There are no guarantees.”
No guarantees. That’s life, in a nutshell.
“Maybe...” I push my hair out of my face. Feels like my whole head weighs less without all that length. Maybe I need to weigh less, too. So to speak.
I stand and sweep the papers into a pile. “I appreciate all of this. Really. I think you were right before. What I need to do is figure out where I’m going to end up, get rid of all my crap, and buy a bus ticket.”
There’s that pounding in my chest again. This time I know it’s me, my own nerves. I’ve gotten rid of so much of my stuff already, paring my belongings down to only what would fit in my car. I hate to toss the rest out like garbage.
I’ll have to face the real reason I haven’t wanted to take the bus, which has less to do with not knowing where I want to end up and much more to do with a need for control. Wanting to be in charge of when to stop and go, and not wanting to be stuck in an enclosed space with strangers who I can’t get away from if they make me nervous.
It all comes back to fear. Public transportation scares the crap out of me. But I can’t let it paralyze me.
Jake opens his mouth to say something but Delia comes over then, sliding a bakery box onto the table. “Here, honey. Take these home. I’m not sure what you eat, but it doesn’t look like it’s enough.”
Hot mortification engulfs my face. “Delia, thanks but I really don’t—”
“You baked most of those anyhow, and I don’t have time to drive over to the shelter today. Take ’em.”
I mumble a “thanks” to Delia’s retreating back and try not to make eye contact with Jake, who’s leaning across the table looking at me like I might puke on the floor any minute. Honestly, it’s iffy.
“So,” he says once she’s disappeared into the kitchen area. “Is it the idea of taking the bus or eating more muffins that’s got you looking so green?”
“Help yourself if you want some.” I slide back into my chair. Suddenly all that lack of sleep is catching up to me. “I’m a little, uh, muffined-out.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “So what do you eat when you’re not eating here?”
“Eh.” I manage to almost shrug one shoulder. “I keep cereal and granola bars in my room. AJ has a microwave, so sometimes I trade him muffins for something fancy like soup and crackers.”
“Jesus Christ.” He grabs my hand and drags me toward the door. “Come with me.”
My hand latches onto his, my body and lizard brain ready to comply without a second of hesitation. Still, I manage to dig in my heels and demand an explanation. “What? Are you out of your mind?”
Okay, he’s bigger than me so I can’t honestly resist without making a scene. But really, after his whole stay-away-from-me business, this is a major one-eighty.
“You can’t live off muffins and granola bars. You need a sandwich. Hell, so do I. We both need a break from this shit.” He grabs the box of muffins and rolls his massive shoulders, while my surprise keeps me rooted and watching him walk away. He turns at the door, still looking irritated. “You coming?”