Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Chapter 2- Jeremy

I thought about keeping the conversation light and getting out of there, happy she was speaking to me again. But I couldn’t handle the thought of her continuing to avoid me, and I wanted to at least gesture at the elephant in the room.

“I’m okay. Look—”

“Hey, guys! I didn’t expect to see you here, Jer,” Sam said, hopping up onto a barstool across from Lauren and me, followed by a guy I knew worked with Lauren, though I couldn’t think of his name.

Not great timing, guys.

“Hey, Sam,” I greeted. “I’m Jeremy,” I said as the guy got settled and looked me over. “And I would shake your hand, but I can’t promise I’m not still at least partially covered in grease.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he said, grinning. “I’m Christian.”

I huffed out a laugh at that.

“Are you staying?” Sam asked, and it sounded like a genuine invitation.

I’d hung out with her and Jesse quite a bit lately but never with Lauren for longer than ten minutes.

“Ah, can’t. I am picking up food and then going home to shower long enough to forget my profession. Just wanted to say ‘hey.’ My food should be ready by now, though. It was good to see you both. Could I talk to you for a sec, Laur?”

I had nothing to lose, but I braced myself for her to tell me to fuck off. Instead, she nodded and slipped down off her barstool.

She was so short. I forgot sometimes since her personality was terrifying. She was wearing a black halter top that looked like it used to be a Fleetwood Mac concert t-shirt and jeans with the biggest flares I’d ever seen, her yellow sandals barely peeking out.

“Thanks. For the rescue. I didn’t say it before,” she said once we were out of earshot.

“Anytime, Garrett. Just...”

Her green eyes looked up at me expectantly. Why was this so hard? I supposed she couldn’t avoid me more , so I might as well bite the bullet.

“I miss you. I’m sorry for...” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence without making things worse, being that we’d never technically acknowledged anything between us. “For not handling things well,” I offered. “But I want to be able to hang out again. I also really need a haircut, and for some reason, my appointments keep getting canceled. It must be a glitch with the website.”

I was begging her to let us go back to some semblance of normal.

“Hmmm, that’s so odd. None of my other clients have said anything.”

“Probably an error on my part. I’m known to screw things up.”

She gave a laugh and half-rolled her eyes. I felt like I was being appraised for auction before she spoke again.

“Fine. I’ll make sure your next appointment doesn’t accidentally get canceled. But... damn it, Jer.”

“I know,” I murmured.

“Whatever. If we’re friends , then act like it. I’ll see ya.”

Instinctively, I reached for her wrist to keep her there, though I had no rebuttal. I didn’t want another friend. But that’s what I needed to be for her, or she’d learn how truthful I was being when I said I was known to screw things up. She looked up at me, and I dropped her hand.

“Thanks, Laur. I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded and made her way to the bar. I didn’t miss her downing a shot after I finally got my to-go order. I glanced around to make sure the country club rejects had vacated the area, not trusting a single one of them around Laur or Sam with their drinks out in the open. I finally made it to my car, even more exhausted than when I’d walked in.

Today had been fucking brutal . Two guys had called out “sick” from the shop, meaning they were watching The Price is Right and nursing hangovers. Being the owner’s nephew, that meant I got to work all day. I normally bounced back and forth between being under cars and being in the office, but today had been all oil changes and new brakes and starting on rebuilding a transmission. All I wanted was to eat my burger and take the world’s longest shower. I hadn’t planned on getting caught up trying to build a bridge back to something that looked like friendship with Lauren, but I was glad the night turned out that way.

A legitimate groan slipped out of my mouth when I finally made it to my apartment and peeled off my shoes.

Because I was classy, I ate my burger standing up, leaning over the sink in my kitchen. That shit was messy.

The knowledge that I was only a shower away from being able to pass out gave me the motivation to drag my ass into the bathroom. My apartment was average—one-bedroom, tan carpet, oak cabinets, linoleum that’d seen better days, but the water pressure was top-tier, and I’d never been more grateful. I got out to a text notification from my uncle.

UNCLE NICK: Hey kid. I wish I could give you tomorrow off, but the best I got is that you don’t have to come in until eleven. Get some sleep.

I felt my shoulders drop. I’d hoped he wouldn’t need me at all tomorrow. The thing about being a mechanic was that it was a decent job. It was honest work, it paid okay, and my uncle being the owner was usually a perk. But the thing about being a mechanic when you hated working on cars was that it was dirty, unforgiving, physical labor, and I was spent.

JER: Got it. I’ll see you then.

The only thing I did before closing my eyes was put in an appointment request at The Dollhouse for the next week, hoping she meant it when she said it wouldn’t mysteriously get canceled. I punched my pillow and shut off the bedside lamp before the appointment confirmation email arrived. That softened the blow of everything else, and I was dead to the world.