When the truth broke us

The Calm Before the Trouble

Ethan’s POV

Some nights felt like they didn’t belong to the city.

They were quieter, softer, like the world had stopped pretending to be so fast, and people could finally breathe. That night was one of them. Then I was at the shop again. The last customer had left an hour ago, and the only light came from the small desk lamp Amelia always left on near the counter. She was underneath a pickup truck, boots sticking out, humming a tune I didn’t know.

I leaned against the doorway, just watching.

She didn’t know what she did to me, the way her focus pulled me in, the way she never asked for attention but somehow owned every second of it.

You know, I said finally, most people spend their Friday nights drinking, not fixing transmissions.

Her voice came muffled from under the truck. Most people don’t have bills due Monday.

I smiled. That’s fair.

She slid out, wiping her hands with a rag, leaving a streak of grease on her jaw. Besides, what would I do at a bar? Pretend to enjoy cheap beer and small talk?

You could try enjoying the company, I said.

She looked up at me, brow raised. That an offer?

I shrugged. Depends. Would you accept?

Her lips quirked, almost a smile. You can hand me the socket wrench instead. So I did.

We worked in silence for a while. Or rather, she worked, and I pretended to help.

Now and then, she’d glance up, catch me watching her, and shake her head like I was the strangest person she’d ever met.

You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you? she asked finally.

Nope, I replied.

Then why keep showing up here? She asked.

I could’ve said the truth, but because being here feels more real than any penthouse I’ve ever owned.

But the lies were easier. Because I like the smell of oil, I said lightly.

She rolled her eyes. Right. Nothing sexier than motor grease. She said, and we both laughed. The sound filled the quiet shop in a way that felt too natural, too easy.

When the laughter faded, I caught her watching me for a second too long. Something flickered in her eyes, curiosity, maybe. Or trust. Later, we sat outside on the curb, sharing takeout from the diner down the street.

She pulled her jacket tighter against the chill. Have you ever thought about leaving the city? All the time, I said.

Where would you go? She asked.

Somewhere quiet. Maybe a small town where nobody knows my name. I replied.

She smirked. Sounds like you’ve got secrets, city boy. She said.

I tried to smile. Don’t we all? I replied again.

She studied me, like she was trying to peel away my answers. Yeah, but yours feel heavier than most.

Before I could respond, her phone buzzed. She frowned, looked at the screen, and sighed.

Evan, she muttered.

Your brother? I asked.

Yeah, she said. He’s… complicated. She stood, pocketing the phone. He’s supposed to be at work, not calling me at midnight.

Everything okay? I asked.

Probably not, she said, brushing her hands on her jeans. It never is with him.

There was a pause, then she met my eyes again. Sorry. You don’t need to hear my family drama. She said.

I stood too. If you need to go, I’ll walk you. I replied.

She hesitated, torn between independence and worry. Then she nodded once. Fine. But don’t slow me down. She said, and I smiled.