Brenden cowers away, cupping the top of it from view.
“Little shit,” Ruby mutters under her breath. “I’m not making more.”
“Yes, you will because I’m your one and only baby boy,” Brenden smirks at me before slurping more from his tumbler.
“Crap,” Whitney says, eyeing her own phone and stepping away to answer.
“Hello? This is she. Thank you, yes, I’ll be here.” She turns back toward us.
“Guys, I’m going to have to tap out for a bit. The wrecker is on his way to pick up my car, and I need to clean it out.”
“We’ll do all the regular boring ornaments until you’re done,” Serena offers, sorting through another box.
Whitney turns to Ruby. “Mom, are the trash bags still—”
“Beneath the sink.”
Whitney heads toward the kitchen, and I grip her wrist. “Need help?” We both stare down at where we’re connected before she gently pulls her hand free.
“I’ve got it, thanks.” Her reply is far too civil, friendly even, and it grates at me because she’s fucking determined not to engage, even more to continue to treat me like a stranger. Frustrated but knowing I need to take Evie’s advice, I make my way back to the ladder catching a hushed conversation on the other side of the tree.
“Her car now, too, Mom. This is the last thing she needs, and she so deserved that promotion.”
“She’ll come back swinging,” Ruby assures Serena, “she always does.”
“I’m worried about her.”
A pause.
“Me, too. But this is Whitney.”
“For once, I just want things to go her way. I want to see her happy. She deserves it. If she’d quit dating these idiots—”
“I liked the last one.”
“Who?”
“Pete.”
“That’s not the last one. The last one was Kyle, and she dumped him a month ago.”
“She never mentioned him to me.”
“Because he wasn’t worth mentioning. It’s like she’s purposefully scraping the bottom of the barrel to make it easier on herself when it doesn’t work out. The night we got here, she told me point blank she would never have kids and probably wouldn’t ever get married.”
Silence and then. “She said that?”
“Yeah.”
Ruby’s voice is full of concern when she speaks. “I hate hearing it.”
“This one?” Conner lifts an ornament to my line of sight.
“How about you put it up,” I offer and lift her to hang it on a higher branch. Conner giggles above me as she secures the ornament onto the tree, my gaze following Whitney as she wraps a scarf around her neck, pulling on her beanie before exiting the front door.
Sitting behind the wheel of my car, a trash bag full of mostly junk and a few personal items packed in the passenger seat, I take one last look around my sedan. It’s just a car, but I find myself oddly emotional about it for reasons I don’t understand.
Sitting in contemplation and getting nowhere with the reasoning, I’m thankful when the headlights of the tow truck appear behind me. When the driver hops out, I check the rearview and am momentarily zapped by the sight that greets me—messy two-toned spiked blond hair and sun-tinted skin despite the season. He’s dressed in nothing but dark jeans and a grey thermal that accentuates his insane build. There’s something inherently sexy about his grease-stained tan boots.
Before I’m able to fully grasp the looks of him, he’s standing at my window, enticing hazel eyes peering back at me. I can’t hear it, but I’m sure he’s chuckling as he gently taps on the glass. Dazed by the unexpected sight of him, I turn the key like a moron to let the window down instead of exiting the car.
“Saying your goodbyes?” He asks, his accompanying chuckle much sexier than the one I imagined.
“She was a good car,” I reply, still taken aback by the hottie looming above me.
He surveys my car as I stare at his prominent Adam’s apple, and immediately my thoughts shift to Eli.
Stop it, Collins.
The sexy stranger eyes my sedan as I ogle him. “The order says you want to junk it, but I can check out the issue and get it back to you with an estimate if you want.”
“No, she’s a goner. It’s time for something new, and I’m okay with letting her go. But,” I glance around, “as silly as it sounds, we’ve been through a lot together.”
“Trust me. I’m the last man you need to feel foolish in front of when getting sentimental about a car. I have cars with plenty of stories. Some of them my favorites.”