Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

LIAM

“Engines don’t talk back,” I muttered under my breath, wiping grease off my hands as the steady rhythm of the garage filled my ears. The shop was my sanctuary. It was just me, the cars, and the noise—no complications, no people asking questions I didn’t want to answer. Life was simple here, and I planned to keep it that way.

“So, can she be fixed, or is it time to retire Bacon Bits?” Sasha, the current pain in my ass, asked, looking out the windows at the incredible view of the mountains.

“Well, you have a few issues, but nothing we can’t get fixed. I can order the parts today and have them here by the end of the day tomorrow. Are you staying locally or will you need to get a rental?” I asked, knowing good and damn well there wasn’t a hotel worthy of her. Sasha was great to talk to, but her standards were out of the South. She needed all the top-notch equipment. Who the hell knew how she ended up in my shop?

“My brother is on his way from Dukeville to pick me up. Once he gets here, I’ll ride with him. I’m spending the week with him. Would a week be too long to leave Bits here, or could you call if she’s finished before then?” she asked, still staring at the mountains.

“I’ll call you. The mountains sure are relaxing, aren’t they?” I asked, looking out at the foliage as it turned from being scorched by the hot summer sun to the enchantingly welcome fall foliage. Soon enough, a cold front would move through the area, and I’d no longer need to get out there and cut the grass—that was what I was waiting for!

Since the elephant returned to the room and Miss Sasha Sassypants wouldn’t join my conversation, I decided to continue. “They say the mountains in this state have a way of healing you if you let them,” I muttered, glancing at the misty mountains that framed my garage.

Since leaving the Marines, North Carolina had become my home. A quiet corner where the world didn’t demand much from me. Just cars to fix and roads to drive—simple, predictable. That was how I liked it. Cars didn’t need conversation, and I was okay with that. The more I wanted to heal myself, the harder it was to ignore reality—without serious therapy and professional help, I was a broken soul with no chance of healing.

I wasn’t against help or anything; I simply wanted to be left alone and away from most of the human race. I signed up for the roadside assistance program, which ensured plenty of customers coming in. Ashleigh, North Carolina, was my second and final stop after I left the Marines. I know, once a Marine, always a Marine, but sometimes, I had to escape.

I didn’t want to live in a heavily populated, heavily trafficked, constantly loud, and bustling area. I wanted peace and the freedom to heal from the nightmares that tormented my sleep.

I could work out for a few hours, and the stress would melt away, but nothing helped the way cars did. The engines spoke to me, even when they weren’t working correctly. The transmissions would tell me what was wrong. Sometimes, adjusting to the new-age cars and their computers was hard, but I could usually tell what was wrong by listening to the car and how she purred.

The mountains healed me the same way I healed the cars. I had to listen carefully, and the hills listened, too. There was something about the Carolinas that just had that effect on me. At first, I looked into Raleigh, where my parents raised me, but when I found Ashleigh, I thought it was a myth. It was the best of both worlds. It was as if Ashland and Raleigh had a baby, making my perfect location. I had the mountains, the lakes, and everything in the middle. It was still a small town, but I didn’t have to travel more than thirty miles in any direction to pick up supplies if I needed them. Fortunately, in Ashleigh, I could get my shop up and running within weeks.

In contrast, in Duketown, it would’ve taken over a year to get everything approved, plus they had astronomical insurance prices. I purchased enough land to build a safe place for my family. With six cabins on each side and my shop in the middle, my sister and parents moved to Ashleigh with me, and we started our happy ending. My parents and sister opened a diner, and I had my own shop. We were able to help each other. It was nice having our little village.

“Liam, are you listening?” Sasha snapped her fingers in front of my face. I didn’t realize how lost in thought I was. The last person who snuck up behind me while I was in Korea ended up with a concussion.

“Sorry. Please don’t ever sneak up on me or do that—” I cut myself off, realizing she never snuck up on me, but dragging me out of my thoughts was dangerous.

“Oh, sorry. What’s wrong with the car? My brother wants to know,” she asked, sounding irritated and on edge.

“You’ve got a bad gasket, and the one between the cylinders is failing. You’ll need a new thingamabob and some other blah, blah, blah. Once I get those, we’ll be able to fix it and get you back on the road. Your transmission and?—”

She cut me off, looking more confused than when AAA dropped her off. Great. The random words I threw in must’ve made it worse. Shit, she didn’t get sarcasm. I was trying to make her laugh or at least ease her worry, but clearly, I just made things worse.

“Hey, Siri, what does it mean when you blow a gasket in your car?” Sasha asked her phone. I bit back a laugh—I could easily tell her the answer.

“I’m sorry; I can’t respond to that right now. Please ask again later,” the robotic voice replied.

“Would you like me to explain?” I asked, holding back a chuckle.

“I just want to make sure I’m not getting screwed over,” she said and sighed.

“If the gasket between the cylinders is going bad, the engine’s not working right. Air or fuel could be leaking between them, which can cause misfires or loss of power. If it’s really bad, you might see oil or coolant leaking, or it could get into the engine where it shouldn’t.”

“So, what exactly needs to be replaced in mine?” she asked her expression a mix of worry and uncertainty.

“The head gasket seals the cylinders. When it fails, it causes leaks and misfires.” I tried to avoid technical terms but still explained the issue clearly.

“Is there anything wrong with my engine and transmission? Leroy—my brother—said it was shooting black smoke from the pipes the other day.” She frowned, clearly more concerned.

“The black smoke could mean the engine is burning too much fuel. It might be related to the gasket or maybe a fuel system issue. It doesn’t mean the transmission is involved, but we’ll need to check to make sure there’s nothing serious going on with the engine.”

“Why did the car make that loud sound before shutting off?” she asked softly, now more worried than before.

“That sound probably came from the engine struggling. Either from the gasket problem or not getting enough fuel or air. When it can’t run right, it shuts off to avoid more damage,” I explained. I didn’t realize how often I spoke in mechanic terms. Even though she wasn’t dumb, dumbing down my native language was more challenging than I thought.

“So, you’re ordering the gaskets, but we won’t know how bad it is until they’re replaced?” she asked, eyebrows raised, clearly lost.

“Basically. I’ll order everything we might need to fix potential issues. I keep extra parts on hand anyway. You’ll only pay for the labor and time I spend working on your car. Make sense?”

Sasha let out a long sigh, running her hand through her hair. “I mean, it makes sense… I think? As long as I’m not getting charged for parts I don’t need, I guess I’m good. I just want my car back before my brother starts saying, ‘I told you so’.”

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And if you could keep the 'thingamabobs' to a minimum, that’d be great.”

I chuckled, leaning against the workbench. “No extra thingamabobs, I promise. Just what your car actually needs. And trust me, I’ll get it done before your brother has a chance to gloat.” I gave her a quick grin. “I’ve got this. Your car is in good hands.” A few moments later, her brother picked her up, and I placed an order for the parts. Luckily, it was early enough, so I could get all the parts in late today, and I could have the tests run before late tomorrow night. I looked around the shop and realized I finally had a chance to take a break.

I walked over to the medicine cabinet and pulled out two pain relievers. I think we were due for a storm; my knees were flaring up, and I knew a migraine was nearby knocking. The migraines brought on more nightmares. The nightmares brought on more struggles with sleep. It wasn’t that I didn’t like winter. I actually loved it; I just dreaded the seasonally induced solitude. Thankfully, from March to November, I saw an increase in customers. You asked for this dumbass. You wanted to be where the cars spoke to you, the mountains healed you, and you were the hero—in some people’s eyes…

I was my biggest critic, worst enemy, and I had so much to work through. I’m sure I’d have to pay top dollar to speak with a therapist.

Once a Marine, always a Marine . Or so they claimed, but since I left the service after watching my best friend’s wife leave him for his brother, my other friend’s girlfriend said she was pregnant, but he hasnt been home in over a year, and the love of my life committed suicide while I was deployed—because her best friend told her I wasn’t ever coming home—I’d never felt more alone. The VA is a complete joke. I’m not sure why this is a political point in any race because the only changes they make—are none.

My phone rang, pulling me out of my intrusive thoughts. “Joe’s Morgue, you kill ‘em, we chill ‘em.” I laughed, waiting for a response. After hearing nothing, I went to my professional tone.

“Hello, Liam’s Shop. If your car dies, I’m here to revive it..” Crying on the other side, pulls me back into professional mode.

“Thanks for calling Liam’s Shop. This is Liam. How can I help?” I asked again, and all I heard was more sobbing.

“Ma’am”—at least I think it’s a ma’am—“if you can hear me, I’m not able to understand you. Could you please stop cryin’ so I can help you?” I slowed down and spoke into the phone.

“I took the damn scenic route! And these windy ass roads are killing my car! At first, I thought it was just my transmission slipping, but then it stopped working, the temp went too hot, and now it’s smoking, and I'm stranded…” she blurts out furiously.

“No problem. I’m going to text you from my phone. Can you drop your pin so I can come get you and bring your car here to take a look?” I offered, quickly texting the number she called from.

“How the hell do I drop a pin?” she mumbled on the other end of the phone. “The pen is now on the ground. I’m not sure if you can find it.”

“No, Ma’am, go through your messages and select location,” I guided her through the process, and she said, “Sent. I think.”

“My name is Mia. Ma’am makes me feel old. But I got it. I’ll be there shortly. Since it’s nice outside, just sit in your car, and I’ll see you in a few. You’ll hear me before you see me.”

“Why would I wait in the car?” she asked.

“Lions, tigers, and bears, oh my…” I sang, reciting the words from one of the best classic movies in the world.

“There’s tigers out here?” she screeched.

“No, but there are rabbits, goats, deer, raccoons, and bears.” I laughed.

“Fucking scenic route!” she screamed, but it was muffled, so she must have put the phone in her lap.

“See you shortly,” I said before placing the phone back on the receiver.

The scenic routes were what brought me to Ashleigh, North Carolina. The mountains put me under their spell and made me stay… Maybe I could show her the beauty and convince her to stay?

Why would I want her to stay?