Maggie smiled as she spoke to an elderly couple at a booth in her section. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Even though she wore her uniform with an apron tied around her waist, I could vividly see her as if she stood naked in front of me. I’d worshiped her body a lot over the last four weeks, detailing every line, every curve, every scar and imperfection until there wasn’t a single pore I hadn’t memorized.

She lived less than an hour away. I saw her almost every day, yet that still wasn’t enough. On Wednesdays, her shifts started early, and then she had dinner at her uncle’s house. I didn’t get to see her afterward, because she’d go straight to bed. Every week I’d offer to come over and sleep at her place, but she was adamant that I not waste my time; she was so tired when she got home, she’d pass out in minutes. So in order to see her, I made a weekly breakfast date at Rosemary’s Diner every Wednesday morning.

“You’re going to be late.” She set the receipt on the table and laughed. This was our routine. I came in, ate, flirted with the sexy brunette while I imagined her naked, sprawled out beneath me, until she practically kicked me out.

“Imagine how late I’d be if you met me out in the parking lot?” I teased and watched her cheeks turn bright red. “You know how much I hate leaving. I won’t get to see you until tomorrow, and that might as well be a hundred years from now.”

She shook her head and sauntered off. One of these days, I’d wear her down.

I pulled a few bills out of my wallet and set it on top of the receipt, same as I did every week. At first, she fought me on it, telling me she wouldn’t accept my tips. Nonetheless, this was the only way she’d let me help her pay down the money she owed her uncle. She couldn’t move away until she repaid him every penny she’d borrowed for college, so if I had any chance of getting her out of Billings—even if it was just to Fleetwood—I’d do whatever I had to…including decent tips every Wednesday morning.

Leaving the cash on the table, I met her near the counter to say goodbye. I wasn’t allowed to kiss her in front of customers—for someone so brazen in the bedroom, she was shy in front of others—so every week, I had to settle for a smile. With my hand on her neck, my thumb against her smooth cheek, I said, “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

“You too, Talon.” And every week, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and stared up at me with the brightest pair of blue eyes.

It gutted me to walk away from that.

But I didn’t have much of a choice. I was fairly certain she’d lose her job if I bent her over one of the booths and said goodbye. Hell, she probably would’ve let me—if the light in her eyes and glow in her cheeks were any indication—though she settled with a hand against my chest and a smile on her lips.

I was maybe two feet from the truck of Jarrod’s I still drove when I heard Maggie chase out after me. She called my name with tears in her voice, causing my heart to cease. When I spun on my heel to face her, I caught her running toward me. Disbelief riddled her expression, and all I could do was stand there and wait the few seconds before she came to a screeching halt in front of me.

“Is this…did you mean this?” she asked, out of breath with a twenty-dollar bill in her hand.

Confused, I glanced quickly at the weathered cash, then met her stare. Every week I left her forty dollars—that was the most she’d allow me to tip without slipping the rest into my pocket later—so I wasn’t sure why she’d be surprised this time. “Yeah…why?”

She took a step closer, almost eliminating the space between us. When she did, my gaze fell onto the bill again. However, this time, I noted the words written in blue marker across the front, covering the face of the dead president. “I love you” was scrawled in a man’s handwriting, which was not mine. I met her stare, ready to correct her, but my denial refused to come.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Rather than wipe it away, she launched herself into my chest, one arm around my waist and the other gripping the side of my sweatshirt. She buried her face into the material and held onto me as if her life depended on it.

“Maggie?” I barely got her name out, forcing it past the lump in my throat.

She released the fabric of my shirt and slid her hand to my neck, pulling her face to my shoulder without once letting me see her eyes. She held me so close it caused panic to spread throughout my body until I practically shook with fear. Although, I wasn’t sure what I was afraid of—Maggie didn’t appear to be frightened by the idea of me loving her. The only reason that would explain my reaction, was the realization that the sentiment was real. Just because I hadn’t written it didn’t mean it wasn’t true.

Then again, I’d never experienced love before, so I could’ve been wrong.

Regardless, Maggie meant more to me than anyone ever had. Whether that meant I loved her, or that I eventually would, it didn’t matter. Nothing about us had ever been conventional, so there was no reason to try to make sense of this. I’d met her at a gas station and picked her up off the side of the road, knowing nothing other than her name and age. And even still, after a four-year separation, we managed to find one another again. Somehow, I had to accept that this was the way it had always been planned—that had we done anything differently, none of this would’ve been possible.

The heat of her breath swarmed my neck when she said, “You smell so good.”

I held her tighter, never wanting to let go, and dropped my mouth close to her ear. “You smell good, too.”

* * *

As much as I hated leaving after our moment—and my realization—in the parking lot of the diner, I had to get to the shop. I’d been working on the 442 for a month. It’d taken that long to return it to pristine condition after Maggie nearly destroyed it. The guys had a good laugh after I had the clutch disc pulled out, and they really found it funny when they saw how badly she’d grinded the gears. It was a miracle she’d even made it to Florida. Needless to say, I was almost done with it, and at some point, I’d have to actually work with the guys instead of using them as my own personal assistants.

When I made it back, Jarrod was in the office with the door closed. I wasn’t sure what he was doing—or who he had with him—so I bypassed it and headed up to my apartment to change. One step through the door and I could smell Maggie lingering in the space. It amazed me how long her scent remained after she visited, and it amped up my need to make it more permanent.

After changing into my blue, oil-stained jumper, I sat on the bed to tie my boots. With one shoe on, I felt around beneath the blankets that had slipped halfway off the mattress onto the floor in search of the other, only to find something else instead.

My fingers came in contact with a plastic bag, and when I pulled it out, I recognized it immediately. That particular color orange wasn’t one I’d soon forget, no matter how long I’d been deemed a free man. There hadn’t been anything of value in it after my release—my clothes no longer fit, and aside from my wallet, everything else was trash—so I hadn’t given it a second thought after bringing it upstairs.

I pulled out the jeans and T-shirt, for no other reason than to look at them. But before I could recall the first memory from that night, something fell to the floor. It was a phone, though not mine. It wasn’t mine, because Maggie had taken off with it…and left hers behind. I’d forgotten all about having it, not once remembering that I had the answers to so many questions.

Such as: who she’d stolen the money from.

And now, after finding out the asshole had been the one who had attacked her in Florida, there was a chance I’d find out his name. Not that it really mattered anymore, since he was already dead. But that never erased the natural need to learn something about him.

I finally gave up when I couldn’t get into the phone. I’d managed to get it charged enough to power it on, only to get stuck on the passcode, and if I tried too many times, it would lock me out completely. And if that happened, I’d never see the messages.

By the time I made it downstairs, Jarrod was out of his meeting. He was now alone in the office—my office, yet he used it far more than I did. So, I stepped inside and took a seat on the corner of the desk. “I need a favor.”

Jarrod smiled without once glancing away from the paperwork in front of him. “You ran out of favors yesterday. Sorry. Order your own damn parts. And if this has to do with your girl, figure it out on your own. I can’t in good conscience continue to give you advice.”

“Good, because you suck at it, anyway.”

He reclined in his chair, his laughter filling the small room. “What can I do for you?”

I handed him the phone, which sobered him rather quickly. Instead of taking it, he stared at it and then at me, repeatedly, as if an answer would magically appear.

Most of the original crew who’d worked for Tony were troubled—some more than others. Between the lot of us, we struggled with drugs, stealing, fighting, or were on the cusp of falling into one of those categories. Jarrod, however, had a different, more unique issue, one Tony saw a silver lining in. If it involved a computer, Jarrod could figure it out. We’d all grown up relatively the same—poor. Yet for whatever reason, he had the ability to understand machines better than anyone I’d ever met.

And after getting tossed into juvie for taking a prank at school a little too far, he’d found his way into Tony’s shop. Ever since, he’d limited his talent to car computers, and only with the purpose of fixing them. I had no doubt he had mixed feelings about this right now.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need your help.” I set the phone on the desk.

He continued to stare at it with his hands in his lap. “Why?”

Either he was asking why I needed his help, or why I needed access to the phone; I wasn’t sure which. So instead, I gave him my own answer. “It was Maggie’s. The night she took off—before my arrest in Mississippi—she grabbed my phone and left hers. I’d forgotten about it until I just found it upstairs.”

“Then just give it to her and have her enter the password. There…problem solved.”

I hesitated for a moment, and then I decided he deserved my honesty. He’d heard some of it, close to half; still, there were parts of my history with Maggie that I hadn’t confided in him. Not because I didn’t trust him, simply because I didn’t want him to see her differently or judge her based on it. And those were the parts I’d have to explain now.

“I told you I picked her up from a gas station and offered to drive her to Florida. What I didn’t tell you was that she had stolen a bag of cash from someone. Don’t ask me who, because I don’t know. But I have a feeling the answer is on that phone.”

“And what are you going to do with that info?”

“Nothing. She says the guy is dead, and I believe her.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because I can’t imagine she’d be here if he weren’t.”

Jarrod nodded and took a deep breath. Once again, he returned his attention to me. “Why’d she steal his money?”

“From what she told me, it wasn’t intentional. She had no idea what she’d taken when she walked out. She went with some guy she was dating to his buddy’s house; they were doing drugs, so she left.”

His gaze narrowed with concern. “She was doing drugs?”

“No.” My answer seemed to appease him, though I felt the need to elaborate. “I don’t have the whole story, but for some reason, she left the house with the backpack. She didn’t have a ride, so she started walking, and at some point, she looked inside and found the money. It was around that time I ran into her.”

“Okay…so why do you think there’s anything of value on here?” Still, he didn’t touch the phone. He treated it as if it would infect him, and it made me feel like shit for even asking him to do this.

“After she bolted, but before meeting me, she turned off her phone because he kept texting her. The night she left me at the motel, she turned it on. And from what she told me, that’s when she got more texts, which is what caused her to take off. Basically, those are the messages I want.”

Jarrod scrubbed his stained hands over his face and then stared at the ceiling. “Whether you asked for it or not, I’m gonna give you my advice. This guy’s dead…right? Just leave it alone. There’s no point in digging it all up.”

“I appreciate that, and honestly, I wouldn’t care what was on there if I hadn’t found the phone. But now, I can’t ignore it.”

“And what will happen if you find out she lied to you?”

“About what? About the guy dying?”

“Anything, Talon.”

I hesitated, making sure I had the most truthful answer before giving one. “I seriously don’t think she’s lying about the guy being dead. That means the only thing she could’ve lied about is the money, which I saw it with my own two eyes. I’m certain it existed.”

“Okay, fine. She stole a bunch of cash. That doesn’t mean it happened the way she told you it did. And if you find out the truth about that, it could make you question everything about her. Are you prepared for that?”

“Whoever she took the money from came after her. He found her in Florida and put her in the hospital.”

“You’re sure of that?”

I pushed off the desk and moved to the wall, which wasn’t as far away as I would’ve liked. I needed more space to ward off the irritation that rolled through me. Jarrod meant well, and normally, I appreciated it. Right now, I really wished he would’ve stopped with the questions and just did what I asked. I didn’t care to doubt everything Maggie had ever told me, and the more he pressed, the worse it became.

“I saw the scars, man,” I argued through clenched teeth. “One of the windows in the living room of her grandfather’s house has obviously been replaced. She told me she was thrown through a window, so it makes sense. I have no reason to question her.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze falling to the floor before returning to my face. “Did she happen to tell you how he knew she’d be there?”

With my back against the wall, I felt pinned to it, like I couldn’t move. The air seeped from my lungs, and no matter how hard I fought, I couldn’t refill them. “She was dating him.”

“For how long?”

I shrugged. “Like a month or something.”

“How long have you known me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Years, Talon. We’ve worked side by side for years—which is well over a month. Do you have any clue where my grandfather lives? Go ahead, just try to pick the state.” When I didn’t answer, he grabbed the phone off the desk and studied it for a moment. “My concern is that you’ll get answers you haven’t asked questions for. And all this”—he waved his hand toward the door—“will vanish. I’ve never seen you more content than you’ve been since you came home with your car. And as much as I’d love to believe your happiness is a result of having Tony’s four-four-two again, I’m not blind. That look is caused by a girl. And not just any girl, either. Your girl. Don’t get twisted up in this if you aren’t prepared to cut her loose.”

“If she’s lying to me—or has lied to me—why would I stick around?”

“Because she makes you feel invincible.” He dragged himself out of the chair. With a slap on my shoulder, he added, “I’m not stupid, Talon. From the moment Jess told me she was pregnant, I was aware it could be someone else’s kid. We’d been together for a few weeks when it happened, so there was a possibility it could be mine, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be another man’s.”

I was unable to do anything other than stand there and listen.

“I struggled with it. I won’t lie…there were moments I thought about leaving until I had proof I was the father, but at the end of the day, she’s my whole world. She makes me feel ten feet tall and made of steel. Better than any drug I’ve ever had. And for me, after all I’ve been through, that’s exactly what I need. I never wanted a kid, man. And now…I don’t give two shits what DNA that baby has, because no matter what, I’m the father. It’s my child.”

I nodded, not having any words to offer.

He squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. “Think about it. I’ll see what I can do about getting it unlocked, but before you read the texts, make sure you’ve thought long and hard about the consequences. I won’t be held responsible if you find something you aren’t prepared for.”

I thanked him and then left the office, needing a moment to process everything he’d dumped on my plate. It wasn’t his fault that I hadn’t considered any of this before, so he didn’t deserve to be affected by my mood. I clearly had a lot to mull over, and the best place to handle it was in my bay while working on my car. Some people did their best thinking in the shower or on the shitter. The only place that worked to clear my head was under a hood.

I walked into the garage and noticed Jess standing with one of the guys. She had her hand on her belly while she spoke, a smile plastered on her lips. It was easy to see that her feelings regarding the baby and Jarrod mirrored his.

“If you ever decide to kick that fucker to the curb, you give me a call,” Drew said to Jess as I walked past. It made me laugh under my breath and shake my head. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d heard him say that same thing to the women who came in—Maggie included.

“Watch it, Drew,” she warned with a teasing tone. “Jarrod just might leave me first.”

“Doubtful.”

Even though I was at the toolbox in my bay, I couldn’t have been more than three feet from Drew and Jess, so I was able to hear every word whether I tried to or not. At least it gave me a slight reprieve from the damaging thoughts that had bombarded me in the office.

“I’m well on my way to looking like a zebra, so it’s quite possible he’ll trade me in.” There was no question that she was kidding, even without seeing her expression.

Apparently, Drew didn’t quite pick up on it. “What? Why?”

“Haven’t you ever seen stretch marks? I’m already getting them on my hips, and if this baby keeps growing as fast as it has been, I’ll have them all along my stomach, as well.”

“Don’t people only get those when they gain a bunch of weight too fast?” Drew was quite the idiot. Then again, I started to believe the majority of the crew were clueless—at least when it came to women.

“Well, yes…that can also happen.”

“I guess I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jess lift the hem of her sweater. I turned to see what she was doing, suddenly worried that she’d expose herself in my garage. But once I saw the purple lines decorating her sides, I couldn’t look away—or speak.

“Holy shit!” Drew’s voice carried, and if I’d been able to, I would’ve told him to shut up. “The ones I’ve seen have never looked that that!”

Jess giggled and lowered her top, breaking the spell her scars had me under. “The color will fade, like all scars do. See what you have to look forward to if you knock someone up?”

“Good thing I wrap my junk.”

Jess laughed at him and then walked inside, while I remained rooted in place, unable to move. I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck. Any thought that floated into my head quickly vanished without sticking. I couldn’t seem to latch on to one thing before being smacked with another, and the harder I fought to control it, the worse it became.

I mindlessly worked on my car, unable to pay much attention to what I did. Every now and then, I’d check the clock. After about the third or fourth time, I realized I was checking to see when Maggie would be getting off work. I could’ve called or texted, but this was something I would have to do in person.

And about forty-five minutes before her shift ended, I hopped in the truck and took off.