Now she wore jewelry worth more than everything inside his garage and watched him exactly the same way.
He hated that memory still felt warm.
“Hand me the small socket extension.”
Sophia looked at the open tool bag.
“Which?”
“The silver one.”
She stared at approximately thirty silver tools.
Ethan almost smiled.
“Short piece.”
She picked one.
“No.”
Another.
“No.”
She looked offended.
“There should be labels.”
“There are.”
“Where?”
“In my brain.”
She finally found it.
Ethan took it.
Their fingers touched.
Both froze briefly.
Sophia withdrew first.
“Sorry.”
He said nothing.
He tightened the clamp.
Checked pressure.
Added coolant from a small emergency container in his truck.
Ten minutes later, the engine started normally.
Sophia looked genuinely impressed.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve gotten slightly better since you knew me.”
Her face tightened.
There it was.
The first direct acknowledgment of the past.
Ethan lowered the hood.
He wiped his hands on a rag.
Sophia reached for her handbag.
“How much?”
He stared.
“What?”
“For the repair.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
“I can pay.”
“I know.”
Her expression shifted.
He instantly regretted the edge in his tone.
Sophia slowly closed her bag.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.”
“You stopped in a storm.”
“You fixed my car.”
“Let me pay you.”
Ethan looked toward Lily.
Then toward Sophia.
“Buy someone else dinner.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Next time you see somebody who needs help.”
“Use the money there.”
He turned toward his truck.
Every step felt heavier than it should.
He had imagined meeting Sophia again thousands of times in his twenties.
In some versions he screamed.
In some he refused to speak.
In some she cried and begged forgiveness.
In some he was fabulously successful and did not care anymore.
Reality was worse.
He cared.
That was humiliating.
“Ethan.”
He kept walking.
Then fingers closed gently around his wrist.
He stopped.
Sophia had followed him.
Rain ran through her blonde hair now.
Her sunglasses were gone.
Without them, Ethan could see the emotion she had been trying desperately to control.
“Please.”
He stared at her hand around his wrist.
She noticed.
Released him.
“I’m sorry.”
“For touching you?”
“For more than that.”
He laughed once.
Bitter.
“We’re doing this here?”
Sophia’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“You had ten years to make that happen.”
The words landed brutally.
She looked down.
Ethan immediately hated himself.
Not because it was untrue.
Because part of him enjoyed seeing it hurt.
That was not who he wanted to be.