Chapter Seventeen

Maggie

School is super busy but I keep working for Trig. It’s a full class load, 15 hours, and Jane is worried that I’m doing too much. She wants me to have the full college experience. I feel like I am. The classes are wonderful. I especially love the Ancient Civilizations class. The prof has traveled all over Italy and Greece working on excavations.

The students are great too. It’s nothing like high school where kids nap during class. Tuition is expensive so I guess the students want to get their money’s worth. I’m grateful for the grants and assistance Mr. Hendricks lined up for me.

I only work at the garage on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I take my books with me, and despite the banging and clanging coming from the shop, I manage to spend most of the day studying. Since Trig doesn’t want me to do anything but answer the phone, I have plenty of time.

It doesn’t feel right that he’s paying me ten bucks an hour to study. On the other hand, the perks are great. Like seeing the boss climb into the big rig he just did a brake job on and drive it out to the yard. Or watching him attach a huge chrome fender on a custom rig the men jokingly refer to as Optimus Prime.

Trig’s strong and powerful. Watching him do his work and how much he clearly loves what he does makes me even crazier for him.

Mel will be back in two weeks and I can’t help feeling bummed that I won’t be able to come to the garage. I’m sure Trig doesn’t feel the same way. If anything, he scowls at me more than ever. He’s irritable with the men too. When Jesse walked into the office looking for the first aid kit, Trig was three steps behind him, barking at him to get the hell out.

Kyle calls a few times a week, griping about high school and how much he misses me. I tell him I miss him too, but that’s a little bit of a white lie. I love Stowe. I love my classes. I especially love that no one gives me a bad time because I like academics.

My last day of work at the garage, Trig leaves early. Before he goes, he steps into the office and tells me to take the afternoon off. He doesn’t want me at the garage when he’s not there. I want to argue and tell him that I’m fine. I rarely talk to the men, but when I do they are respectful. Trig acts like they’re all animals and I won’t be safe here without him.

I don’t protest, because he looks terrible. His normally tanned face is pale and he looks tired. Exhausted.

“Want me to drive you home?” I ask. I know he won’t want me to but I can’t help it. Seeing him like this twists something inside me. My eyes feel hot and prickle. I shove my books into my messenger bag. Gather my things. “I could take you, if you let me. One of the men could drop off your truck later.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m fine.”

I could have predicted he would tell me that. When I try to press the issue, he waves me off, dismissing my concerns. Instead of letting me take care of him, he insists on walking me to my car. I guess he doesn’t trust me to leave. He assumes I’ll blow him off and not leave early.

I text Jane to tell her I’m coming home early and can help with dinner.

Part of the way home, Trig drives behind me, but after about ten minutes he turns to go to his house. I get home early and Jane is delighted. She already has dinner made and insists I sit down with her for some girl time. Jane is at least as excited about school as I am. She claims we are fellow nerds, something that would have shocked and pissed me off a few months ago. Now I wonder if it might not be, at least, partly true.

After updating Jane about grades and school in general, I tell her about Trig leaving early. Her lips thin and her eyes widen with alarm. Her response scares me because I can tell she knows something that I don’t. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s surprises.

“What’s going on with him?” I try to keep my tone neutral.

“His headaches are from the accident. The one that killed his sister and parents. It nearly killed him too. Ever since then, he gets terrible headaches, especially when he’s stressed or mad. I keep asking him to get it checked out, but he refuses.”

Instead of being scared, I’m kind of pissed. “He’s never gone to a doctor?”

“He met with a neurosurgeon in the hospital, but he refused any treatment. Instead he takes some medicine that knocks him out. He wakes up the next day, not remembering anything.”

My anger vanishes. All I can think of is how Trig is home, alone, suffering. When I don’t respond, Jane changes the subject. She can never stand to dwell on anything unpleasant.

“Wes got a promotion this week. We are thinking about adding on a play room, a place for the boys to hang out together. Sort of like the rec room at Trig’s house.”

The rec room is cool. Everything about his basement is set up with the boys in mind. The model train set. The huge television. Trig’s just one of the boys when he’s down there. I recall that day, standing at the top of the stairs, shining the flashlight down into what seemed like the scariest place in the world. He did it to scare the living daylights out of me. It worked. He got what he wanted.

A shiver rolls up my spine. I had imagined terrible things and that his was filled with restraints and things he would use to torment me. Turns out there were Lego sets, video games and puzzles down there.

“I want the boys to have a play room they like as much as Trig’s,” Jane says.

“A play room sounds nice. If I weren’t living here, the boys could use my room.”

A flash of pain lights her eyes. Jane’s an open book and I’ve always known, from the moment I walked into her home, that she wanted to care for me and that I was important to her. Despite that, her affection still startles me.

She wraps her fingers around my forearm. “That room will always be yours.”

Her voice cracks and her eyes mist, but the moment passes and soon we’re talking about college classes and the boys’ latest escapades. She’s carpooling with a neighbor, so she doesn’t have to leave to get the boys. Around four-thirty, all four boys traipse in and demand my attention. Soon I’m listening to stories about school and kids in the neighborhood.

I’m happy to have some downtime with them. Talking with the boys doesn’t drain me or get on my last nerve like it used to. Jane promised I’d get used to it and I suppose she’s right.

But my mind wanders, too. I can’t help think of Trig and if he’s okay. He was supposed to come for dinner. Jane fixes a plate for him and I offer to take the dinner to his house. She says she’ll text him to let him know I’m coming.

Passing Wes on the driveway, I tell him I’m on my way to Trig’s house. That Trig’s ill. He gets a look on his face, stricken, and offers to go in my place. He thinks Trig and I don’t get along and I’m not sure how to explain that us not getting along is us getting along just fine.

I manage to convince Wes it will be fine. All I’m doing is dropping food off and then I’ll be back. I say good-bye, load the bag of goodies Jane gathered and head over to Trig’s in the waning, winter light.