Chapter Seven

Elena

There’s no point in denying it now—this is the craziest thing I’ve ever done. My insides twist, but I turn into Jamie’s apartment complex and attempt to look confident.

I park the car and shut off the engine. Blowing out an anxious breath, I shove out-of-place hair behind my ears and turn to him. “I’ll run inside to get the garage keys. Stay here?”

His gaze flicks over my face. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Aiden’s crooked grin has my pulse hammering. My mouth goes dry as I look from his lips to his ruffled hair, then down his striking features. Warmth floods my veins, and I have a ridiculous desire to lean in closer, but instead, I lick my lips and do the opposite. “Good.” I nod, shove open the door, and step out of the car.

Once inside, I ask Jamie for the keys to Todd’s family’s garage. She gives me a puzzled look.

“You’re going anyway?” she asks. “I thought you said you couldn’t fix the car by yourself.”

“I did. I can’t.”

She holds out the keys, one brow lifting in a question. “So…”

“So I found someone else to help.”

“What do you m—”

“This guy, uh, a friend. Long story, gotta go.” I hustle toward the door. “I’ll explain later.”

Thankfully, she doesn’t follow me outside. When I reach the car, I’m relieved to see Aiden exactly where I left him.

“I half expected you to bail on me while I was inside,” I say.

“You did?” he says, his grin shifting into another adorable smile. “I told you, I’ll do whatever you want.”

I almost say, “Anything, huh?” But I bite the inside of my cheek and keep quiet, because now I’m imagining all the things I could ask him to do. This is so not a good time for my brain to jump into the gutter.

We finally arrive at the garage, and after unlocking the doors, I drive my car between the two posts and get out. The technology installed allows the lift arms to position themselves in exactly the correct spot needed to lift the car. And it’s got anti-gravity tech in it, allowing the car to glide in the air soundlessly.

I search through the garage for the tools I’ll need, taking in the uniquely mixed smell of motor oil, rubber, mild paint fumes, and aerosol residue. The back of my neck tingles with delight. Some might prefer the scent of flowers, but not me.

When I get ready to remove the exhaust mid-pipe, Aiden comes to stand beside me. “Those bolts look a little rusty. Loosening them might be tough. Want me to do it?”

I wave him off. “I got this part.”

He lifts a shoulder, then gestures for me to have at it. The first bolt turns easily, the second takes more elbow grease, but the third won’t turn at all. I spend minutes trying, and I’m certain I didn’t even loosen it.

“Ugh.” I straighten, eyeing the bolt with disdain. “Guess I could use your help with these.”

Aiden takes the wrench from my hand, and though I expect to see smugness on his face, there is none. I step out of his way. He leans in. And a moment later, he’s holding the rusted bolt in his fingers.

“How—” He’s already got another one. My eyes go wide. “Jeez. What kind of muscles do you have hiding beneath those clothes?” Earlier, I’d noted a decent set of biceps and strong forearms, but he loosened those bolts as though he had bodybuilder strength.

He laughs a little and runs a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

I smile, and without any instruction from me, Aiden removes the cylindrical driveshaft, then removes the plastic paneling around the shifter. Once the interior trim is gone, I lower the hoist so we can support the engine and get to the rear transmission support.

Aiden tips his head, surveying me. “So…are you really interested in car mechanics or do you work on it yourself to save money?”

“Both. I’m so in love with all things mechanical—especially cars. Especially this car. One day, I hope to own my own garage. Preferably not in Ohio, though.” The weather here is a special kind of torture.

“Really?”

I slide my gaze to him at the note of amazement in his voice. Aiden’s eyes are wide, the green in them glowing. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“It’s just…it isn’t a career field that’s populated with many females.”

“Hey, tha—”

He holds up a hand. “Just an observation, not a judgment. And I’ve obviously never met a car mechanic. Wish I could do something like that. To have that kind of talent.”

Too bad Dad doesn’t share his sentiment. “How do you know I have any talent? There’s nothing remarkable about what I’ve done so far.”

“Call it a gut instinct.”

Aiden’s features hold an unnamable emotion, and I find myself staring at him every chance I get after I disconnect the clutch cable from where it sticks out of the bell housing. My intrigued gaze traces the hard lines of his face, lingering on the way his lips curve upward. I have a sudden desire to memorize every plane of his face and every inch of his broad shoulders down to his worn-out sneakers. If I were any good at artsy stuff, he’d be an incredible subject to draw or paint. He’s a seriously attractive guy but doesn’t act like it—the way most guys at school do.

“Is something wrong?” he asks. “It looks like you want to say something.”

I snap out of my daydreaming and awkward staring. “Oh, no, nothing’s wrong.” I shake my head for emphasis, becoming suddenly fixated on the bell housing, the main component attaching the transmission to the engine. “How often do you get to see beneath the hood of a car?”

“Whenever I want, as long as it’s on TV, the internet, or in textbooks. I’ve never been able to touch a car—any part of a car. Not since the accident last year, and if I did before I lost my memory, I obviously don’t remember.” He uses the wrench to remove a few more bolts so we can slide the transmission away from the engine and lower it to the ground.

After a few minutes, I say, “They must have kept you in a cage,” though it wasn’t something I intended to say out loud.

He laughs, but it catches in his throat and ends abruptly. “I had a room in a building, just like I imagine you do. Only mine had a high-tech door, and I had no access to the ones that led outside.”

Goose bumps cover my arms and neck. Sounds a lot like a cage to me. Or prison.

“Why would they want to kill you, really?”

“I wish I knew.”

“I’m not saying I doubt you, but murder is a pretty big freaking deal.” A thought worms into my thoughts. What if he’s lying about the he-wants-me-dead bit? What if he’s running because he hurt or killed someone? This thought unravels, sending my brain into panic mode.

But that theory doesn’t make sense. He’s had plenty of opportunities to hurt me, steal my car, or disappear. I try to come up with a logical answer, some kind of explanation for my reckless decision, but there isn’t a straightforward reason. If he proves to be exactly who he says he is, I have no reason to want him dead. Maybe I simply believe no one deserves to be executed—and I don’t have to explain that, or myself, to anyone.

Not helping Aiden would be no different than standing safely on land with a life vest, watching someone drown.

While I look through the open car door, he slowly lowers the shifter, and I ensure it drops freely. After that, it takes both of us to wiggle the transmission free while supporting it so it doesn’t fall before lowering it.

After the transmission settles gently onto the ground, I say, “Where do you want me to take you after we finish on the car?”

“I don’t know where exactly. All I have is a name—Zoe Miller. She’s a doctor, and hopefully a little internet searching will lead us to her.”

“How do you know she’ll help?”

“I don’t.” His brows draw together. “But she’s a friend of Melanie—Dr. Burns—my therapist. If Zoe can’t help me, maybe she can reach out to Dr. Burns. Those are the only two people I know like family.”

The only two people who know him and might not want him dead.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s get my car finished, and we can look this Zoe person up after our stop at Walmart.”

“What do we need at Walmart?”

I smile at his uncertainty. “If we’re going to continue this whole ‘trying to save your life’ thing, you’re going to need a few supplies.”