The Girl He Needs (11 page)

“Oh.” I clap my hands together. “I have this great sci-fi book that you’d love. Every time I read it, I’m reminded of you. Hold on.” I jump up and jog to my car, clutching my skirt in hand so I don’t trip. In the car, I snatch up my purse and rummage through it until I find the book. I simultaneously pull it out and back away from the car before I jog back to Will.

“Here. It’s fabulous.” I toss the book in his lap and plop down next to him.

He holds it up and turns to face me. “You really liked it?”

“Yeah, crazy good. It’s not worn because I bought it secondhand or anything.” I lovingly caress the heavily creased spine and dog-eared pages. “It’s worn because I read it that much.”

His smile is open and wide when he says, “I wrote it, Jo. The second one comes out today. I don’t really travel, so I concede to my publisher’s request and do local signings.”

My mind buzzes. My favorite book was written by my brother. More importantly, he referred to Daytona as local.

“You live nearby?”

He cups his chin in his hand. His fingers turn slightly white as he squeezes it before he lets go. Suddenly, he stands. “I live in Gainesville,” he says in one breath.

“Oh, that’s pretty close.” About two hours away. What an incredible stroke of luck that I decided to start in Daytona.

“Why Gainesville?” I search my mind for the research I did on various Florida cities, trying to find one that might appeal to Will. Gainesville has a top-notch university, football, and is nowhere near the beach as it’s closer to the center of the state. None of the things would have appealed to the brother I knew.

Pointing to his scar, he says, “They have an incredible brain institute. Since this thing is the product of a traumatic brain injury, I thought it made sense.”

I nod in understanding. “I see.”

I must be the dumbest person in the world, not thinking about his TBI. I searched artist communes, dude ranches, and ski resorts. I attended bike rallies in South Dakota. All of which were dead ends. But favorite places and hobbies of the boy I knew were all I had to go on. At least I was right about motorcycles, though I’d have guessed BMW before Harley.

“I never considered your head injury,” I mumble to myself in contempt. I want to know if the injury affects him, or rather, how it affects him, but I’m afraid to ask, to push him into a place where he’s not comfortable because this is a new Will I’m getting to know. This person is so much like the boy I grew up with but so different, and the water I’m treading might have a riptide.

He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “What do you know about my accident?”

I look past his shoulder, letting the events flash through my mind. Putting words to the vision makes my heart ache. “Just that you got stuck in the horrible storm, skidded on the bridge, and went over the side.”

Will stares at me, searching my face for something, I’m not sure what. “That’s it?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that it?”

He shrugs at my question so I continue. “You’ve been in Gainesville for seven years?” I’m desperate to know more about him.

“No, but that a story for another time.” He moves to a saddlebag and undoes the latch, pulls out a book, and tosses it to me. It’s his new release. I smile up at him and clutch it to my chest.

“Thanks. Now I’ll be up reading all night.”

A tinge of pink colors his cheek and I’m awed by this. As children, he was always the bold go-getter. Nothing stood in his way. He was purposeful and determined and certainly not the type to blush easily. Whereas, I was. Quiet, and in his shadow, I let Will lead the charge. Until the day he wasn’t there any longer.

I pull the book away to look at the cover. “Hey, why Sam Frenick?” I ask, pointing to his pseudonym. His middle name is Samuel, so that makes sense, sorta.

He walks to my car and runs his hands over my tires. “Another time. You need to replace these as soon as possible, you know.”

“I know. I had the car inspected. It’s fine for now.” My plan is to do the tires after my first paycheck from Alliance, which will be another two weeks.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning and follow you to the tire shop. I’ll take you to work.” He walks back toward me and lifts up his helmet, tossing it in the air so it does one flip before catching it.

“You’re staying in town? Want to crash here?”

Will buckles the chinstrap and gives a small shake. “Nah, my publisher put me up. I’ll see you tomorrow. Seven-thirty work?” He straddles the bike, messes with a few switches, then stands it upright before using his heel to push back the kickstand.

“That’s perfect.”

“It’s great seeing you again, Jo-Jo.” He doesn’t wait for a reply but fires up the loud machine. After a quick wave, he pushes the bike back a few feet then turns it around and slowly drives away.

For the first time in two years, I consider calling my mother. I have more questions now than ever, I’m certain she’ll be able to fill in the void. But to call her will be mistaken as me waving a white flag, confusing my need for answers with my need for her, and I’ve no intention of that happening. I stare out toward where my brother once was and try to process everything that has happened in the last action packed eighteen hours.

Finally.

Finally, I found my brother.

Except I know nothing about this person I was just with, and I’m even less certain there’s a place for me in his life. This Will is new and closed off, holding everything tightly to him.

Mosquitos and the need for food force me inside, where I take comfort with frozen lasagna, after which I lounge on my couch, wrapped in my green McRae blanket, and hold Will’s book. Through searches on the internet, I find the bookstore where Will is doing his signing and consider popping in to see him in action, to further learn about this familiar stranger. But the vibe I got tells me I’m better off giving him some space. Instead, I investigate the book. There’s no author bio or acknowledgment. Only a simple dedication:
To Daanya. Who not only gave me the courage to live again but also showed me how to do it.

Why would Will need courage to live?

When Will circles the gravel lot outside the hangar, McRae and Zach are standing beside the large hangar opening, talking. McRae gives me a puzzled look and crosses his arms over his chest.

Will comes to a stop several feet away from the pair and leaves the bike idling. After sliding the helmet from my head, I strap it to the backrest.

“Thanks. We should get together soon.” Though he showed up at seven-thirty sharp, he’s made no attempt at further plans.

“I’ll be in touch. It was good to see you.”

Panicked that this might be my last time to see him again for another seven years, I take a chance and hug him. He pats my back and pulls away after the shortest moment time has ever created.

I wave and watch as he rides slowly away, a quick flip of his hand goodbye before he turns the corner out of sight.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

Instead, I swing my backpack over my shoulder and focus on the day before me.

“Morning, Josie.” Zach says and favors me with a broad smile. “That bike is badass.”

“Yes, Zach. It is bad ass.” I meet his raised hand, slapping a high five, before switching my attention to tall and delicious. “Morning, McRae. How’s your day going so far? Anything interesting planned?” I wink, follow it with a raised brow invitation, before I head toward my desk.

He follows me through the hangar and down the hallway.

“Are you staring at my ass?” I say over my shoulder.

“No.”

When I turn to look his eyes are focused on the ceiling. I stop short and brace myself for the collision, but his reflexes are quick and he stops in the nick of time.

I laugh and start walking again.

“Uh, I’d like to review the day with you before I head out for my first lesson.” He’s repeatedly flipping his phone over in his hand.

“I bet that thing’s been quiet,” I say before dropping my backpack into the lower desk drawer, and I slide into the seat, booting up the computer. I swivel in my seat to face him.

“Eerily so.” He briefly stares at the screen before sliding the phone in his vest breast pocket and meeting my gaze. “About today.”

“I’ve got the day handled. I’m sure you’re concerned about the mechanic coming in for an interview. I’ll be here to greet him and will get it all set up for you. I’m also fielding three other prospects.” Crossing my arms on top of my desk makes my cleavage more apparent. I’m not sure why I’m teasing him, other than because I can. If I were to dig deep into my feelings, my educated guess would be because I can’t control anything with Will and that leaves me out of sorts.

“You’re late.”

“So I’ll stay five minutes later.”

“You’re ten minutes late.” He shows me his watch, the same one that left a dent in my back when he had me pressed against the filing cabinet yesterday.

“Your watch needs an adjustment because I’m only five minutes late.” I show him mine, a diamond-faced one my parent’s gifted me when I graduated high school.

“Is this gonna be a habit with you? Coming and going as you please?” His eyes dart to the storage room and back, expressing his message.

“Don’t be a douche. I didn’t sleep with you so I can come in late or any other perk you may think I’m trying to angle my way into getting. If I’m late, I’ll make up the time. I know our schedule, and if there’s something super important for me to be here at the ass crack of dawn, I’ll be here. Keep our extracurricular activities out of the job.” I shift my focus to my computer instead of planting a heel strike to his solar plexus. “I knew you couldn’t stick to the rules,” I mumble. I get it’s hard for McRae to be outside his box of strict timeliness and no deviations, but I was kinda hoping to sample some more of him. But he’s going to have chill the fuck out first if we’re going to do it again.

Maybe I can help him do that. Show him how pleasant life can be without his sphincter being slammed shut all the time. It’s adorable watching him struggle to find some control.

He shifts awkwardly and I continue to ignore him.

“Where’s your car?”

“Getting new tires,” I say then turn to him. “Is there something else, Mr. McRae?” I lift a brow.

“No, I think that’s all. As long as we’re on the same page.”

“Mmm. That’s doubtful, but the time to continue this discussion has passed. You need to scurry off to your lesson. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be five minutes late and we’re both aware of what kind of message that’ll send.” I meet his gaze, daring him to a debate.

“Don’t forget. I teach at the University today,” he says and blinks once.

“It’s right here on the calendar.” I pull up the program. “The time is highlighted in orange.” I return to my staredown.

“I’ll see you this afternoon.” He stares back. Not blinking. When I turn away, he’s out of the room faster than the speed of light.

I stare at the computer screen and force back the abundance of emotions within me trying to get out. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to start blubbering through my days because my brother doesn’t want to hang with me twenty-four seven and McRae is a tightly wound dick who did a remarkably good job getting back to business and not falling at my feet.

I don’t know how I make it through the day, but I do, and without incident even though I feel shrouded in a weighted cloud that’s pressing heavily against me and whispering for me to chuck it all and hit the road. Life is so much easier that way.

McRae’s interview walks in ten minutes early.

Unfortunately, Mr. Brown possesses the qualifications this business needs and is willing to do it on a contracted basis. He ogles me without attempting to conceal it whatsoever. Like a buzzard, he circles around my desk, attempting small talk and making my defense radar ping madly.

I text McRae.

Hurry your ass up. I might 86 your interview.

He rushes into the hangar with two minutes to spare. I stand when I see him, breathe a sigh of relief, and move away from the creeper.

McRae rests his briefcase on my desk, having just come from his other job at the University. I can almost see him switching gears as he takes us in.

“Mr. Brown, this is Mr. McRae.”

Compared to McRae’s brawniness, Brown has the physique of a woman, an old, worn down woman with slumped shoulders and a shuffling gait. His premature balding and bad fake and bake tan only do more insult to his appearance.

“I appreciate your patience and timeliness, Mr. Brown,” McRae says and subtly wipes his hand on his cargo pants when Brown turns his attention to me.

“Oh, no problem. I was just getting to know Josie a little better.” He winks.

I reach out to grip McRae’s briefcase. It’s either that or snap the turd’s neck.

McRae shoots me a puzzled look, which I return with an eye roll. “Let’s get started.” He gestures to his office and waits for Brown to precede him.

“I need to grab a few things and I’ll be right with you. Can I get you a drink?” McRae asks him.

I tuck McRae’s briefcase under my desk and pull out my backpack.

“You OK?” he asks in a hushed voice and steps closer. “Did he do something?”

“Other than violate women with his presence alone, unfortunately not. Ugh, he’s such a perv. If you hire him, there’s a one hundred percent chance I’m going to end up kicking him in the junk. There’s a seventy-five percent chance I’m going to lay him out on his back after I complete that kick.”

“Did he say something to you?” McRae cups my elbow and pulls me closer. “He didn’t touch you?”

I shake my head. “He gave me the same old shit guys like him always say. ‘Oh, I bet you know how to have fun. I bet you have to beat guys back with a stick. You look friendly.’” I do my best impersonation and McRae chuckles, his thumb rubbing lightly against my elbow.

“I bet he took one look at you and lost the capacity for common sense. You have that affect.”

I shake my head. Men are clueless when it comes to their own gender.

“You’re going to have to make it work if I hire him.”

“You’ll be a fool if you do. He’s a lazy prick. There has to be better mechanics out there. Every time you get in a plane he’s worked on, you’ll need to say a prayer.” Mimicking, I cross myself like the Catholics do. “Know what I mean?”