“Your car’s a piece of shit.”

I blew out a hot breath. “Is that the technical term?”

“Something like that.” He stood straight and wiped his grease-covered fingers on his jeans. “If you want my opinion?”

“Is it a jerky opinion?”

“Yup, it is.”

“Go for it.”

“Never step foot in that car again. There’s a ninety-five percent chance it will blow up. I’ll have my tow guy pull it into the shop.” He took out his phone and began sending off a text message. When he looked up at me, his eyes grew even gloomier. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to…” He paused and brushed his fingers over his temple, leaving black oil marks. “Come on. For fuck’s sake, don’t do that,” he groaned, gesturing toward me.

“Do what?”

“Cry.”

“I’m not.”

He cocked an eyebrow and stared at me as if I were insane.

I lightly touched my cheeks and felt the wetness.

Crap.

I am crying.

I choked on my next breath and began sobbing, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Can you just…not do that right now? Can you not fall apart?” He asked it in a way that sounded more like a demand.

“I-I’m t-t-trying not to,” I mumbled, unable to control myself. I hated this. I hated not having control over my emotions, over my feelings. Lately, the smallest thing could send me into a whirlwind of sadness, and I hated it. Losing my car—losing the one thing that was mine and mine alone—was breaking my heart.

He sighed again. “You should really pull yourself together.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I sobbed, annoyed by him being there and annoyed that I couldn’t stop crying.

“You look like a hot mess.”

“I’m not a hot mess!” I snapped. I just had hot-mess tendencies…

He grimaced, something I assumed he did often. “Well you sure look the part.”

“Can you just go away? Please?”

“Not till Alex gets here to tow the car. It’s on the house.”

“What?”

“That means you don’t have to pay for it.”

“I know what ‘on the house’ means.”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

I was offended by him, and by his offer to help with my car. How could he be so rude to me and then try to be helpful? That wasn’t how things worked in the real world. Life wasn’t a Sour Patch Kids commercial—you couldn’t first be sour then shockingly sweet. “I don’t want your help.”

“You sure needed it a minute ago.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me.”

“You didn’t refuse it, either.”

I took a deep breath. What is wrong with this guy? It was as if he found pleasure in arguing with me. “Well, now I’m refusing it.”

“Too late. He’s already on his way,” he said, nodding toward the tow truck that was headed in our direction.

“I don’t want it!”

“Fine. When he pulls up, you tell him that and make him realize you’re wasting his time.” He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Your call, raccoon eyes.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” I huffed back at him.

He pointed at my eyes.

Crap, again.

My mascara was running.

“Some guy hurt you?” he asked, a hard look on his face.

“Yes.”

His bottom lip twitched, and he stepped back. Right as I thought he would open up, just when I thought he would offer me some words of wisdom to make me feel better, he blurted out, “Don’t be so fucking dramatic. No dick is worth falling apart over.”

Oh…well then. “That’s exactly what I didn’t need to hear.”

“It’s true, though. You’re crying over someone who probably isn’t worth it.”

“What makes you think he’s not worth it?”

“Because. You’re. Fucking. Crying. People don’t sit there sobbing over someone who makes them happy.”

A chill raced down my spine as he snapped at me.

“Why do you have to be so dang straightforward?” I snapped back, my emotions jumbled up from his unnecessary harshness. “Why couldn’t you just say something nice and leave it at that? Or, you know, not say anything at all?”

“People don’t need nice; they need the truth. I find it ridiculous that a guy has this kind of hold on you. Have some self-respect. It’s insane to give full control of your emotions to someone who doesn’t give a damn about you.”

“He does care,” I argued, though I knew it was a lie, feeling as if I had to stand up for my hurts. If Jackson knew Finn hadn’t cared about me at all, it felt as if he’d won somehow. “You don’t understand. We have history. It’s not just some silly fling like what you have with all those random women.”

He stood taller, his face tensing. “Oh yeah, that’s right, you know all about me, don’t you, princess?”

The discomfort caused by my comment was apparent, and I instantly felt bad. “I didn’t mean to offend you…”

“You can’t offend me because I don’t give a damn what you think, just like the dude who hurt you.”

“You don’t have to be rude. I’m just saying, what Finn and I have…” I paused and took a deep breath. “What we had was real.”

“Had. Past tense.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s the love of my life.”

Jackson rolled his eyes so hard, I thought they’d get stuck in the back of his head. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Yes, the love of your life would be the guy who made you cry without giving a fuck about your feelings.”

“How do you know he doesn’t care about my feelings?”

“Trust me, he doesn’t.”

“What do you know? You probably don’t even know what love is.”

He grumbled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t got to know what love is to know what it isn’t. Go ahead, though, keep crying over a dick who’s not even thinking of you. Trust me, princess, no number of tears from you is ever going to make him love you, but, by all means, keep crying. Hell if I care.”

He didn’t say another word. As the tow truck pulled up, I was one hundred percent ready to tell the driver I didn’t need his help, but when he stepped out of the vehicle, he gave me the kindest smile. He was a bigger guy, not chubby but built, and his body was covered in tattoos. He was older too, with his fair share of gray hairs. The way he smiled had a way of canceling out all the rudeness Jackson had shot my way.

“What do we got here, Jack-Jack?” the guy asked, patting the top of my car. I glanced at the name sewn onto his work shirt: Alex.

“A piece of crap. I was gonna have you tow it into the shop to take to the scrapyard later, but she said she doesn’t want your help. She just wanted to waste your time,” Jackson replied dryly, making Alex frown.

“Oh…”

“I didn’t say that!” I protested quickly, giving Jackson a narrow stare before turning toward Alex. “I’d love for you to help me out.”

He grinned brightly as if all he knew how to do was smile. “It’s no problem. I’d love to help you out. Let me just hook it up. Do you want me to drop you off anywhere?”

“No, really, it’s fine. I can walk. I just have to grab my luggage.” I walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Before I could grab the suitcases, Jackson was there with his mean look, lifting them up for me.

“Stop that,” I barked, grabbing it from him.

“Stop what?”

“Being nice to me when you’re still an asshole.”

“Man.” He whistled low. “You’ll have to ask your god for a lot of forgiveness with that potty mouth, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess,” I snapped.

“Okay, princess.”

Oh my gosh, I hate him. Instant love isn’t actually a thing, but instant hate? So, so real.

“You all good here, Alex? I’m gonna head to get food,” Jackson said.

“Yup, all good, Jack-Jack,” Alex replied with that same Southern charm.

“Alex?” Jackson’s brow knitted. “Stop calling me Jack-Jack.”

“Okay, Jack-Jack,” he replied, giving me a wink.

“Not so fun when it’s happening to you, now is it?” I remarked.

Jackson just grumbled and walked away.

As I watched him leave, another chill shot down my spine. “Is he always that nasty?” I asked Alex as he began hooking up my car.

“Just maintaining his Chester persona, but don’t take it personally. Jackson’s all bark and no bite. He’s harmless.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, well, people are always spreading some kind of gossip. I’m sure there have been rumors about your family, too, but I like to be my own judge of character.” He grinned and nodded toward my car. “We’re all hooked up here, so you’re free to go. I know Jackson said the car is fried, but if it’s okay with you, I’d love to get under the hood and play around.”

“Oh, no, you really don’t have to. I know it’s an old car, it’s just…” I took a breath.

I was so tired of losing things lately.

“This thing means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes, it does.”

“Then let me try.”

I smiled. “I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.”