For some reason, though, I can’t seem to rest my thoughts tonight. Usually when he leaves, I turn off my music and pull up my covers for bed and wait for Trevor to call. My conversations with Trevor are getting harder to have, too. I find myself drifting off, not fully listening. And it makes me feel like a terrible person. I’m not being fair to him, and with everything he’s doing for Cody, it’s making me feel more and more like a hypocrite—a liar or a cheat.
Trevor’s not calling tonight. He’s working late on prepping research for someone in Sumner’s office, and he wants to get it done before he flies in tomorrow. He’s coming a day early for Thanksgiving—he wants time to go over his plan with Cody. I think that’s why I’m so restless now, though.
Standing in the center of my bedroom in my warm sweats, I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, trying to talk myself out of doing something stupid. I seem to be losing the battle with each motion I make. First, I’m stuffing my feet into my sneakers, and soon my coat is on and my keys are in hand.
I’ll just drive by, maybe keep on going to the diner and have a late night breakfast, I think to myself, deep down knowing the real reason I’m jumping on the highway at midnight to spy on Cody at his shop. I want to know if he’s there alone. And if he’s not, I need to know who’s with him—if she’s with him.
The streets are empty as the first layers of snow are starting to dust the blacktop. I take it slow—I don’t really feel comfortable driving at night, let alone when the roads are slick. It takes me twice as long to get to the shop because of it. When I pull in, I see the lights on behind the bay window, and I see shadows moving around—I can tell someone is in there working.
I’m holding my breath as I idle up to the front of the building and turn off my engine. It takes me another ten minutes to work up the courage to get out of my car and knock on the door, and by this time, it’s almost one in the morning. I look around the corner for Cody’s truck, but I don’t see it. I’m sure he’s pulled it in to keep it warm. I fold my hands together and blow into them to thaw them out before I knock, and with a deep breath, I pound on the hard metal three times.
Then I wait.
The door rolls up a few seconds later, and I can see the oil-stained work boots underneath. I think briefly about fleeing, charging for my car, and diving in through the passenger seat. My face is burning with the embarrassment I feel over what I’ve done. But just when I’m worried I can’t take it any longer, I’m staring right into Gabe’s eyes, and he’s smiling at me, reaching out to pull me into a hug.
“Well hey, girl. What are you doing up so late at night?” he asks. My eyes are darting everywhere, looking for Cody, but I don’t see him. I see the Mustang up on the blocks, and the pieces of the car’s insides labeled and placed on towels around the garage. But there’s no Cody. He’s not here.
“I know what brought her out,” I hear Jessie’s familiar voice, and I choke back my tears hearing her, knowing she’s the one person—probably the only person I have on this earth—who understands. I turn to her, and she’s already reaching out her hand to pull me in.
“He’s not here?” I say, letting the tears fill up my eyes now.
“Oh shit! I’m not good at cryin’. No offense, Charlie, but I’m better off over here, with this engine block. You let me know if someone needs their ass kicked though, okay?” Gabe says, backing away and leaving me in Jessie’s capable arms.
“Yeah, I got this, babe. Just get back to work,” Jessie says, pulling me into the small office and setting me down on the couch. I see books strewn around the office table with various notecards, and I look at her with my eyes scrunched.
“Oh, these are mine. Sorry, I’m taking a class, trying to finish an English credit. It’s just for some paper. I take one class at a time, kinda all I can afford,” she says, picking up her notecards in order, tucking them in the book, and sliding it to the corner of the room.
As she packs her books, I’m distracted by her hands, just staring at them; my mind whirls through all of the possibilities, fighting the one that I desperately don’t want to be true. When she stops moving, I slowly lift my chin and find all the confirmation I need in the look on her face.
“Charlie, believe me, I’ve told him what a bad idea this is. I make no secret about how I feel about Kyla, but he’s not listening to me,” she says. I let the sobs fall now, and I fall forward on her lap, all air knocked from my lungs at her words.