Two

Brian

Lizzie was back in town, and I was none the wiser. When Elle had asked me over for dinner with the promise of her famous smoked ribs, I didn't bother to ask questions. Seeing Lizzie, a grown and beautiful woman, made my heart ache.

I kept my distance from her and Lyle all these years, unable to take it any longer. I loved Lizzie with all my heart, but Lyle had come out of nowhere and taken her from me. He was the popular jock who tutored the rebel girl and befriended her best friend, me being that best friend. Lizzie fell for his charms, and I couldn't fault her for it. Not when Lyle was such an amazing guy, and I was the coward who couldn't tell her how I felt.

It was extremely difficult for me to see them be this happy couple. Jealousy was an ugly thing, and it turned me into some bitter person I didn't recognize. So to save myself, I pulled away from them both.

She was the girl I grew up with, the one I fell in love with in the fourth grade, but I had to let her go so I could live. I kept tabs on them through their social media accounts —which they thankfully kept public. Through their posts, I witnessed their happy lives. I saw it all, from birth announcements to vacations, content to see she was happy.

These past few months I had wanted to reach out to her, but I didn't know how. Too much time had passed, too much shit had happened that I wasn't there for. Yet when I opened Elle's door and found her face down on the floor, I couldn't help but feel at ease. She was still the Lizzie I knew…the Lizzie I loved. Her response only cemented it. She was that clumsy, witty, and all-around funny girl I had grown up with.

Dinner last night felt like old times, almost as if eighteen years hadn't passed us by. Her kids were just as amazing as she and Lyle. A good mix of them both, physically and emotionally. Lily seemed more like Lyle, but Milo was just like his mother, a ball of spitfire energy.

"What's got you smiling so wide?" Mason asked, adjusting his grease-covered ball cap over his tucked back, dirty blonde hair.

"An old friend." I smiled at the reminder of the laughs we shared once again at dinner.

"An old friend?" He arched his brow over his dark blue eyes in question, leaning over the open hood with me.

"That's all you're getting from me."

"Why are you holding out on me, boss?" He always called me that when he wanted something. I might own the auto shop, but I worked alongside everyone as if I wasn't their employer. No matter my title, I still loved to get my hands dirty, staining them black with car grease.

"Father Of Mine" by Everclear blasted on the speakers attached to the dark gray walls, a compliment to the cement floor. Mason didn't stop his attempts at getting answers, finding little success as he continued his line of questioning. He forgets I was in the military, honorably discharged after a tragic event. They trained me to stay tight-lipped in stressful situations, which Mason was not.

"You're no fun," he complained, wiping his hands on a blue terry cloth rag as we headed into my office towards the back corner of the garage.

"I think you forget who you're talking to. I'm the most fun guy you'll find living in Willowbrook."

He raised his hands in surrender, taking a seat in one of the black leather chairs in front of my desk with his legs sprawled out and his arm over the back.

My office contained very few items. I had a black desk with a glass top that my desktop sat on. In front of it were two black leather chairs for people to sit on. And behind the chairs, along the wall beneath the large window, was my couch. When I couldn't sleep the night before, rather than eat lunch during break, I'd nap. It wasn't the coziest, what with its black leather exterior, but it did the job.

The cold air in my office was refreshing against the heat of the open-door garage. The air freshener I chose was a welcoming scent compared to the chemicals and degreasers I had just used.

"The guys and I are heading to The Rooster for drinks tonight. Wanna come? Maybe bring this old friend with you?"

"I'll be there. She will not."

"So it is a her." Mason smiled triumphantly as he managed to extract a small detail from me. "Ask her and see. Maybe she'll surprise you by saying yes."

"Doubtful. She's going through a lot right now."

"All the more reason to invite her. Everyone can use some fun and a little escape when they're going through some shit." Mason nodded his head once as if to further drive his point.

"No." There's no way I would take Lizzie to The Rooster and subject her to the gawking of random drunk men.

"Lame." Mason shook his head, getting up and leaving my office, finally giving me a moment of peace.

I do wish I could take her out like old times. Like when we'd all hang out at the tree house, or when she and I would go to the junkyard and sneak into the backseat of our favorite car.

"Welcome back Brian!" Camdyn called from behind the red oak bar with golden accents. All of the round, red barstools were taken, as expected on a weekend night.

Before opening my auto shop, when I first returned from the military, I worked right beside Camdyn. The dim lights and mostly unbusy days were an easy way to get back to normal for me.

The Rooster hadn't changed much over the years. The place still had that old-world southern charm that left you feeling nostalgic for younger days. It was crowded as usual, leaving everyone to yell in order to hear one another. Yet the sound of Blake Shelton in the background was hard to miss, filling the atmosphere with the genre of music I disliked most.

"Hey, Cam, let me get a whiskey on the rocks." I tapped on the scratched surface of the bar, seeing the scuffs from the millions of cups that slung across. The pungent smell of alcohol filled the air, mixing with the strong stench of the cologne some men wore in an attempt to pick up women.

My shoulders were pressed against the backs of two men as they spoke with ladies who sat on the stools. They couldn't be bothered to look my way, too busy trying to get laid.

"Hey, new girl, whiskey on the rocks!" Cam yelled out to the other drink slinger down the bar.

Lizzie? I practically choked on my saliva at the sight of her being here, of all places.

Her eyes met mine in surprise as she turned to Cam, grabbing a clear glass from below and pouring my alcohol. She placed the whiskey on the dark shelves behind her before strutting her way to me, knowing I wanted to talk.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her as she handed me my drink. Her hand instinctively pushed back her loose hair, tucking it behind her ear as she looked away. Her pouty lips curved into a smirk, signifying her upcoming smart ass comment.

"I work here…duh."

"No shit." I rolled my eyes, knowing she could do better than working at The Rooster. Lizzie was more than just a good mixologist, she was a great mechanic, mother, friend, cook, musician, artist, you name it. She was too good to be stuck behind the counter at some lowly bar. "I mean why here?"

She shrugged her shoulders, wiping the counter to keep busy. "Felt like something new."

"If you want something new, come down to my shop. I'll let you get your hands dirty." I smirked at her, probably using some poor phrasing, but knowing she'd find that amusing.

"Are you sure about that? Because you know, I might just take you up on that offer. Then you'd be stuck with me even if I'm total shit at the job; you're too nice to fire anyone." She laughed as she walked off, having to help another customer.

Originally I planned on finding Mason and the guys, but seeing her here behind the bar, working her magic, I decided to not move from this spot. I watched her as she poured drink after drink, working a crowd as if she were the most charming person on the planet. But I could still spot her plastered-on fake smile a mile away. Her eyes were freckled with specks of green and gold shining in the dim light of the bar.

She's not sleeping.

I read about how Lyle died, but it wasn't until I heard the rumors around town that I found out exactly how he died — right beside her as she slept. It was no wonder she stayed awake, unable to rest. How could she after that?

"Are you going to stand there all night? Surely you didn't come here to just watch me pour you a drink?" She peered up at me through her long lashes as she poured more whiskey into my glass.

"I was meeting some friends, but you're better company," I said, feeling bold as I playfully winked at her.

"Ha! That's a lie. I am shit company right now." She shook her head, looking more haunted than I had ever seen her. Her eyes fell and her head hung, more than likely thinking of Lyle and some fond memory that now hurt like hell.

"You're never shit company, Lizzie." I wanted to reach for her hand, but she was gone before I could even lift my palm off the bar.

"What are you doing over here? I got us a pool table!" Mason found me, his hand resting on my shoulder as he spoke, trying to pull me away.

Getting a pool table at The Rooster on a busy Saturday night was like conjuring a miracle, one I knew I'd be questioned for passing up. Prying myself away, I gave one last look at Lizzie before following Mason back to the other guys.

There were a total of three very worn pool tables at The Rooster. Each had their own problems, given their age. Somehow, Mason managed to snag the best of them all — the one that didn't slant.

Zayden was seated at the small round table near the billiards, watching Jaysen take his turn. Frank leaned against the wall with his pool stick in hand, hoping that Jaysen would fail miserably.

I couldn't resist. Jaysen was bent over so far, his ass just begging to be slapped. So slap it I did, messing him up so bad, he scratched the table. We all laughed when he turned to face me with a scowl.

"Bro!" Jaysen exclaimed, a bit irritated as he grabbed his mess of wavy brown hair. "You made me miss!"

"Please, you were gonna miss even if he didn't hit your ass," Zayden commented from his spot, making us all laugh again. Jaysen was the youngest of the group at twenty-four, so we tended to pick on him the most.

"I was totally going to make it!" he argued, moving away from the table, scowling at me with his dark brown eyes as Frank took his turn. He was a good five inches taller than Jaysen, who wasn't exactly short. If Frank had any hair atop his head it would have scraped the green glass of the rectangular light that hung just above the pool tables.

"How about I get you a drink as an apology?" I just wanted an excuse to go back and see her.

Normally, I'd never apologize, let alone get someone a drink. They all looked at me stupidly, as if I had grown a second head by offering. Mason even went as far as to feel my forehead with the back of his hand, checking for a fever.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his head back to give me a confused look.

"I'm fine."

"You're after the hot new bartender, aren't you?" Zayden sported a wide toothy grin as he made the realization. His dark brown, almost black, eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting the light so well it was as if they were mirrors.

"Don't call her that."

The overprotective nature in me emerged more than I meant it to, causing my tone to sound harsher than intended. They all froze again, looking at one another in question before staring back at me.

"Is there something we need to know?" Mason asked, his head tilted to the side as he hugged his chest with his arms crossed.

"Only that she's off limits."

I wouldn't have any of them hitting on her, especially if she took me up on my offer. There was no way I was letting these idiots flirt with her in my own shop, should she decide to work with me.

"Got it, Boss."

The night continued with me making all the trips to the bar. Lizzie was busy more than half the time, making Cam my main bartender. She was doing a good job, but I hated watching her have to deal with drunk men flirting with her. I was pretty positive she was hating it, too, as she met my eyes a few times, looking utterly drained.

It was now one in the morning, and the guys were ready to call it a night, so we all said our goodbyes, only I hung back. There was no way I would let Lizzie go home on her own this late at night. I'd help her take the trash out and walk her to her car.

"What are you still doing here, Brian?" she asked me, as she finally had the time to talk again.

"Waiting on you, of course." I smiled at her, seeing the right corner of her mouth twitch into a small smirk.

"And why would you do that?"

"To make sure you make it to your car safely."

"I appreciate that, Brian, but you know I can take care of myself." She stared me down, her arms stretched over the bar as her hands gripped the edge. I noted some of the tattoos she'd gotten over the years, keeping her badass vibe. A few were hard to see past the sleeve of her shirt, but I read her kids' names there on her forearms. One on each side, with a little flower to represent their birth month, and their name as the stem.

"I'm sure you hugging the floor will scare all the threatening people away," I teased her, wondering what she thought she could do against a large drunk guy. Lyle had always kept her safe, staying strong through the years, despite becoming a businessman.

"Uh, no. I would be fist-bumping throats and high-fiving faces."

"Of course, silly me." I lightly palmed my forehead as if punishing myself for not having come to that conclusion. She had a way of phrasing things that just made me laugh, even when she was being ridiculous.

"Silly you."

She kept busy cleaning glasses, wiping down the bar and putting up anything that needed to be shelved. When she went to take the trash out, I grabbed the bag from her, despite her protests. She let it go when she saw I wouldn't take no for an answer. I heard her mumble something about me being overprotective and paranoid. She wasn't wrong.

"Good job today, Elizabeth. You're free to go. I'll finish closing up."

"Thanks, Cam. But, also know, I won't be coming back." She smiled at him as she waved from the door, leaving Cam in a state of shock.

That's one way of quitting.

I ran after her, catching her just a few feet away on the sidewalk. "What made you change your mind about working at The Rooster after only one shift?"

"It was stupid to begin with. I can't work nights like this, and besides, there were too many guys trying to get a little too handsy for my liking." She shook her head as she marched to the black, extended cab pickup truck that didn't suit her in the least. I was certain it was Lyle's and not her own. More than likely, it was another way she tried to keep his memory alive, or maybe make it feel like he was close.

I can't believe you went and died, Lyle.

"Come to my shop Monday morning. I'll have a job for you with good hours and guaranteed Sundays off, since we're closed."

"Sundays are for church going and BBQing," we both said in unison in the best country accent we could muster, as most Willowbrook residents would say. She laughed that beautiful sound of hers, one I had missed more than I knew possible.

"Thanks, Brian. I'll be there Monday." She nodded as she opened the truck door and climbed in. I closed it for her, maintaining eye contact as I did, seeing her continue to try to hide her exhaustion. She gave me a smile and a wave as she pulled out, driving down the road and out of sight.

"So, what's her name and when is she getting here?" Frank teased, seeing me check the lobby for the third time this morning. I looked at him for the first time today, seeing the twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, not so very well. Frank was one of the few who truly understood me, maybe because he had known me the longest.

"Sure." he stretched the word out, sarcasm deep in his tone. "Cut the crap and tell me who you're waiting on, so I can let you know when they're here."

With a sigh of defeat, I told him the truth. "Let me know when Elizabeth Foster, or maybe Wallace, shows up." I realized I had no clue what her last name currently was. I was certain it was still Foster, as I didn't see her changing it back to her maiden name. Not when keeping it still made her a part of Lyle.

"The husband killer?" Frank held his chin, eyebrow arched, and eyes still full of curiosity.

"Don't ever call her that!" I snapped, letting the anger in my voice ring clearly. There was a deep hate inside me for whoever started such a vile, insensitive rumor.

She doesn't deserve that.

"Defensive. I like it." He nodded his head in approval, letting his chin go as he stood tall. "I'll let you know when she arrives."

I kept myself busy for another half an hour when Frank came back and got me. Wiping my hands on the blue terry cloth, I spotted her standing in the lobby wearing torn jeans and yet another band tee. This time it was Blink-182 — our favorite band.

"You came." I smiled at her, realizing I was anxiously waiting for her, unsure if she would actually show.

"I did."

"Come on back, let's talk."

I walked her across the garage towards my office, gaining Zayden, Frank, and Mason's attention along the way. Thankfully, Jaysen was off today, or he would have immediately shouted something stupid when he spotted Lizzie.

"You still know how to work on cars, right?" I asked her as I shut the door behind us, gesturing for her to take a seat. She dug her hands into her pockets as she landed in the chair directly in front of my desk.

"Yeah, I still know how."

"Good. Tell me when you can't work and I'll make sure to schedule you around that. Do you want to start today or wait until—"

"Today!" she shouted, interrupting me with her desperation.

"Didn't realize you were looking forward to working here so much." I teased her, knowing that wasn't exactly the case, but wanting to mess with her anyway.

"I just need something to do that isn't helping Elle on the farm." Her head swung side to side as she thought of the work her sister had her doing.

Probably shoveling the horses' stables.

"Got it. Let me get you a jumpsuit to change into and then I'll introduce you to everyone. For today, I'll be working with you so I can show you where everything is and how things are done here." She nodded as I opened the large metal cabinet in the corner of my office. I found a jumpsuit I had bought for one of my teenage workers that I felt would fit her, handing it to her with a smile. "I'll leave so you can change."

"Thank you, Brian," she whispered, and I knew she meant it for more than just leaving my office.

"Don't mention it, Lizzie."

She came out about five minutes later, clad in our blue jumpsuit with her black leather combat boots and her hair tied up high. She looked like any man's fantasy, causing my dick to harden as I imagined pulling that jumpsuit off her and taking her over the hood of one of these cars. I was going to have a hard time keeping others away…keeping myself away, really.

"Ready?" I asked her, seeing her look around, unsure. She nodded and followed me as I led her towards the guys. "Frank, Zayden, Mason…meet Elizabeth. She'll be working here starting today. I expect you to be professional and courteous to our new worker. Is that clear?"

Translation: You so much as look at her funny and I'll beat your ass.

"Got it, Boss." Mason answered for the three of them, giving me a mocking salute as he winked at Lizzie. I swear I think I almost growled at him, as if I were some kind of rabid animal. Thankfully, I was able to contain it.

I showed Lizzie where we kept the tools and how to check to see what work needed to be done on each car. She picked up on everything rather quickly, but then again she always had. Everything but math.

"So this is your shop? As in, you own it?" she asked me as we worked together on the Jones' Camaro.

"Sure is. I bought it a couple of years after I returned."

"From Florida?" she continued her questions, remembering that was the state I told her I was going to after high school. Really, that was a lie, as I never even went to Florida.

"No, from Afghanistan," I clarified, "I joined the army after high school, skipping the whole college route."

"You did?"

"I did. Hand me that wrench." I pointed to the one beside her, seeing her grab it and hand it over quickly.

"Are you okay?"

She sounded concerned as she asked, probably wondering if I had been injured or maybe if I had even killed a person. The answer was yes. I had killed a few, and their faces still haunted me years later.

"As good as I can be." I looked up at her, meeting her eyes before smiling at her like always. "Don't worry about me, Lizzie. I'm a big boy who goes to therapy for my problems from overseas. What about you? Are you okay?" I already knew the answer to that, but I wanted to know what she would tell me of her own accord.

"I'm glad you're seeing a therapist for that. Not many guys are willing to do that. To answer your questions, I'm as good as I can be." She reiterated my words, showing me how annoying they are. "I was talking with someone, but since moving here I haven't found a new therapist to help."

"I can give you the name of mine."

"Sure. Thanks, Brian."

"Anytime, Lizzie."