Chapter 1

Ethan wiped grease from his hands with an old rag, the scent of oil and metal familiar in his small auto shop.

He glanced at the clock, almost time to close up.

Tonight was the engagement party, his and Jessica's.

He' d sunk most of his savings into it, wanting to make her happy, wanting to give her father, Mr. Miller, a good night.

Mr. Miller hadn't been well, and Ethan paid for a lot of his care, never minding it.

Jessica was his high school sweetheart, always sweet, always there, or so he thought.

The party was at Jessica's house, small but crowded with her relatives and a few of Ethan' s work buddies.

He' d strung up lights in the backyard himself, picked up the cake, made sure Mr. Miller had his comfortable chair.

Jessica looked beautiful, smiling, but her eyes kept darting to a new guy, Brandon, someone she' d met at a business seminar.

Ethan tried to shake off a bad feeling.

He stood up, ready to make a small speech, thank everyone for coming.

His throat felt a little tight.

Before he could speak, Brandon, slick hair and a smug grin, stepped forward.

"Excuse me, everyone," Brandon said, his voice loud, "I think Jessica has something she' d rather say."

He put an arm around Jessica.

Ethan froze.

Jessica looked at Ethan, her smile gone, replaced by something cool.

"Ethan," she began, her voice clear and steady, "you've been... well, you' re like a brother to me."

A murmur went through the small crowd.

"Brandon," she turned to the new guy, her eyes shining, "he's shown me what a real future can look like. I' m going to be with Brandon."

The words hit Ethan like a physical blow.

His chest ached.

The lights he' d strung up suddenly seemed too bright, too cruel.

Later, as people started to leave, Jessica cornered him by the wilting buffet.

She pressed a small wad of cash into his hand.

"Here," she said, not meeting his eyes, "for your trouble. We can still be friends, Ethan. Brandon says he might even be able to help you out with a job sometime, you know, something better than that greasy garage."

Ethan just stared at the money, then at her.

He felt nothing but a cold, hollow space where his heart used to be.

He dropped the money on the table.

"Keep it," he said, his voice hoarse. "You'll need it."