Chapter 3 3. DAY-DREAMS AND DOUBTS

The radio hummed in the garage, crackling between classic rock songs while Cole Walker tinkered under the hood of a '68 Mustang. His hands were smeared with grease, and his dark gray t-shirt clung to his back due to the day's heat.

The aroma of oil, rubber, and metal felt instinctive to him-his domain, his refuge, the sole thing that had ever resonated with him. Today, however, his thoughts were not focused on the engine before him. It was in a different place.

It was about a girl with captivating brown eyes and a witty tongue. A girl he encountered six months prior who was stuck, solitary on the road, sporting high heels, confidence, and a sense of entitlement. As soon as she spoke, he had identified her as a pampered princess, the sort of girl who had never done a thing in her life.

And for some inexplicable reason, Claire Dunlop had been lodged in his mind ever since. Even now, while he tightened a bolt, he could see her in his garage that day-arms crossed, watching him as if she felt too superior to be there yet too obstinate to walk away. He ought to have erased her from his mind the moment she left.

However, he did not. And that became an issue.

"Cole."

He blinked when Logan's voice interrupted his thoughts. His best friend was propped against the tool chest, arms folded, observing him with a playful grin.

"You're spacing out once more."

Cole breathed out through his nostrils, nodding his head. "I'm simply exhausted."

"Really?" Logan cleaned his hands on a cloth. "Are you sure it's not her?"

Cole stood still, his hold on the wrench becoming firmer. "Who?"

Logan's grin grew larger. "You know who. The rich girl. What was her name again? Claire?"

Cole shot him a look. "Drop it."

Logan laughed, raising his hands in defeat. "Hey, dude, all I'm saying is, you've changed since she arrived here. And given that your current girlfriend is still involved, that's a bit unethical, don't you agree?"

Cole's jaw tightened. Logan was not mistaken. His girlfriend, Hailey Chase, had been in his life for the last two years. She was stunning, enjoyable, and for a time, she had been satisfactory.

However, recently? She no longer thrilled him. The discussions during the night had shifted to voids of silence. The joy had diminished into duty. And even worse? He harbored doubts regarding her. There were countless late nights when she failed to answer his calls. She often arrived reeking of costly cologne that belonged to someone else.

However, Cole had never faced her. Not due to fear of the truth, but rather because, at his core, he no longer cared as much. The issue was, he couldn't figure out how to conclude it without causing her pain. Hailey wasn't a terrible person, and a part of him continued to feel accountable for her.

However, he was also aware of one thing without doubt-he could no longer continue pretending.

And the most unfortunate aspect? Whenever he was around Hailey, he couldn't stop thinking about Claire. That by itself revealed to him all he required to understand.

Before he had a chance to speak, the sound of heels striking the ground caused him to become tense.

Speak of the devil.

Hailey glided into the garage as if she owned it, her long blonde hair flawlessly styled, and her chic black dress far too pricey for a location that reeked of motor oil. She possessed an effortless beauty that caught attention wherever she went-but not from me. Not any longer.

"Hey, babe," she cooed, striding directly toward him. Cole maintained a blank expression.

"Hailey." She reached up to kiss him, but he tilted his head a bit, allowing her lips to touch his cheek instead.

She scowled, withdrawing. "Are you serious?"

Logan grinned from the side, feigning concentration on the engine he was fixing.

Cole dismissed him. "What brings you here?" Cole inquired, taking a cloth to clean his hands.

Hailey crossed her arms, tilting her head. "I came to see my boyfriend. Is that illegal?"

Cole breathed out. "I am very busy."

"You're always busy," she replied, pouting a bit. He once thought that pout was charming. At this point, it merely seemed like another game.

Hailey brushed a polished finger along his arm, speaking in a quieter tone. "Come on, Cole. You've seemed withdrawn recently."

Because I don't love you anymore.

The words weighed heavily in his throat, yet he kept them unspoken. Rather, he withdrew. "I've recently had a lot to think about."

Hailey sighed heavily, obviously annoyed. "Perhaps I can distract you from your troubles."

Cole looked over at Logan, who was clearly faking disinterest to avoid eavesdropping.

He exhaled deeply. "Hailey, not right now."

Her lips formed a narrow line. "Alright. Call me when you choose to behave like my boyfriend once more."

With that, she pivoted on her heel and exited, her heels tapping on the pavement.

As soon as she left, Logan released a quiet whistle. "Wow. That was tough."

Cole flung the cloth onto the workbench. "It had to be done."

Logan lifted an eyebrow. "So, it's over?"

Cole brushed a hand through his hair, breathing out. "Not yet. But it will be."

Logan observed him for a brief moment before he shook his head. "Dude, you're a wreck."

Cole smiled subtly. "Tell me something I don't know."

He faced the Mustang again, clutching the wrench more tightly. Since no matter how hard he attempted to overlook it, the reality was evident.

The moment Claire Dunlop entered his life, everything transformed.

He didn't know what to do about her. He tried as hard as he could to forget her for six months, but he couldn't. She kept coming to his mind, like a rash that refused to go. A good kind of rash.

He had thought of asking her out, but he immediately dismissed the thought. A rich, privileged girl like her would never go for someone like him. A mere mechanic who dropped out of college because he could no longer afford to pay his fees. She deserved someone better. Someone in her class.

With all his might, Cole pushed all thoughts of Claire Dunlop aside and focused his attention on the mustang.

His past, his struggles, his shop-this was his world. And she didn't belong in it.

******************************************************************

Two weeks had gone by since Claire Dunlop's engagement celebration, and she felt more confined than ever. Her father wasted no time in imposing her new reality, making certain that she and Patrick spent time together-regardless of her feelings.

Three dates, each one more unbearable than the previous. Patrick embodied all the traits she loathed in a man-narcissistic, privileged, and domineering. He hardly paid attention when she talked, interrupting her in the middle of a sentence to discuss his business endeavors, his family's impact, or his preferred subject-himself.

During their first date, he monopolized the entire evening boasting about his latest investment deal, stopping only to rectify her whenever she attempted to share her thoughts.

During their second date, he placed her order without inquiring about her preferences.

On the third? He had flirted with another woman in her presence, smirking when she caught him.

And still, in spite of everything, her father had merely offered her a condescending smile when she voiced her concerns. "Claire, building relationships requires effort. Patrick is an excellent fit. You simply have to stop being so hard to deal with."

Here she sat, two weeks in, in her bedroom, gazing out the window, feeling trapped in her own existence.

Claire's bedroom served as both a refuge and a confinement-a stunningly lovely enclosure designed for a life she did not select.

The space was enormous, featuring arched ceilings, a chandelier adorned with crystals, and a balcony that gazed out over the impeccably landscaped gardens of the Dunlop estate. The walls were coated in gentle ivory, highlighted with gold-edged molding, while the floors featured polished hardwood, partly adorned by a sophisticated Persian rug. In the center stood a canopy bed, lavishly covered in white linens and embellished with numerous decorative pillows. Opposite it, an impressive fireplace featuring a marble mantel imparted a royal feel to the room, even though Claire seldom utilized it.

Beside her, a vanity table displayed various designer perfumes, cosmetics, and accessories-items she hardly valued but had accumulated through the years. A walk-in closet stretching from floor to ceiling contained a limitless array of couture dresses, designer footwear, and handbags valued at more than the rent of most individuals.

Yet, in spite of its beauty, the room seemed vacant. Chilly. Similar to a location intended for admiration rather than habitation.

The only section of the room that genuinely felt like hers was the snug reading corner by the window-an inviting chair encircled by shelves packed with books she had diligently gathered throughout the years. It was the only place where she could find refuge, even if just in her thoughts.

And still, regardless of how often she immersed herself in a book, reality inevitably reemerged. The truth that this space, this existence, was never genuinely hers to manage.

A rap on her door snapped her back to reality. "Ugh, if it's my father, just say I'm sleeping," she shouted.

Rather than a servant's voice, she heard the recognizable laughter of her closest friend. "Oh, darling, if you believe I take orders from your father, you truly don't know me."

Claire pivoted as Lena Whitmore entered the room, hands on her hips, dressed in stylish designer jeans and a top complemented by red heels.

With her vibrant red hair, green eyes, and a rebellious spirit that knew no bounds, Lena had always been the one who wouldn't allow Claire to dwell for too long. Born into affluence yet never dominated by it, Lena had devoted her life to bending (and occasionally outright defying) the conventions of elite society.

While Claire felt the pressure to fit in, Lena chose not to be subdued. She expressed her thoughts, questioned those in power, and no patience for the pretentiousness of their world. She had a wicked sense of humor, a love for adventure, and a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit-which is why she hated Patrick with every fiber of her being. Lena had consistently been the one individual who never allowed Claire to dwell for too long.

"You seem unhappy," Lena declared, throwing herself onto the bed next to her.

"I feel wretched."

Lena supported herself on her elbow, raising an eyebrow. "Are you betrothed to the devil?"

Claire let out a dramatic sigh. "Three dates, Lena. Three. Each one worse than the last. If I have to listen to him talk about his stock portfolio again, I might really scream."

Lena made a gagging noise. "Please say he at least acted like he was curious about your interests."

Claire chuckled without any amusement. "Oh, he certainly did. He inquired about my preferred designer brand and then explained why I was mistaken."

Lena grasped her chest as if she had been hurt. "A tragedy. A true tragedy." Then she raised herself, resolve shining in her gaze. "That's it. We are going out."

Claire sighed. "Lena, I'm not-"

"Nope. No excuses." Lena lifted her up. "You require a pause from Patrick, your dad, and this whole constricting existence."

She leaned her head. "Take a moment before you decline-think about it: lunch, a film, and some drinks. A full day without anyone making you deal with an absolute jerk."

Claire paused. The idea of a day removed from her reality was alluring.

Lena grinned, feeling triumphant. "Let's go, princess. Let's run away."

Claire breathed out. "Okay. But, I am choosing the movie."

******************************************************************

A couple of hours later, Claire was laughing for the first time in several weeks. The lunch had been ideal-a quaint café in the city where no one murmured about her engagement.

The movie? A nonsensical action movie that lacked any logic but managed to keep them amused. And now, following a few too many margaritas, the world seemed a bit brighter.

While driving home with music pumping from Lena's car, Claire let out a satisfied sigh. "I needed this."

Lena smiled. "Told you." She hit the steering wheel. "You see? Life isn't entirely terrible."

Claire rested her head on the window, observing the city lights fade by. After weeks, she finally felt like her true self once more.

And then- the vehicle jolted. A strong clunk echoed from the engine, succeeded by the unmistakable noise of the car shutting down.

Lena swore, veering to the edge of the road. "Oh, give me a break."

Claire sighed. "Are you serious?"

Lena attempted to turn the key. Nothing at all.

With a theatrical sigh, she released her seatbelt. "I suppose I should check it out."

Claire chuckled. "You? Take a look? You don't even know how to change a tire."

Lena grinned slyly. "True. But it's the thought that counts."

They both exited the vehicle, the cool evening breeze enveloping them. They found themselves on the edge of town, with the road largely empty except for some far-off headlights.

Claire folded her arms. "So what's the strategy, clever one?"

Lena looked around before her eyes settled on something in the distance. "Oh. Perfect."

Claire tracked her gaze, and as soon as she spotted it, her stomach clenched.

An auto shop. An auto repair shop that seems familiar.

The neon sign blinked softly, just as she recalled from six months prior. She recognized this place.

An odd feeling of déjà vu enveloped her while she gazed at the garage, her thoughts drifting back to the evening her car had failed on the route home from school. To the evening she had encountered him.

Claire gulped nervously. What were the odds?

Lena failed to notice her doubt. "Come on, let's see if someone's still working."

She seized Claire's arm and pulled her ahead. As they drew near, Claire's heart raced a bit too quickly. She was unaware of the reason. Yet something informed her...

She was about to see him again.