Chapter 5 5. ECHOES OF THE HEART

The ballroom shone with radiant light, crystal chandeliers reflecting the brilliance of elegant gowns and radiant smiles. Claire Dunlop stood next to Patrick like a mannequin set up for showcase-perfect, composed, and vacant. Her hand lay gently in the bend of his arm, but her gaze wandered to the distant windows, where the night sky called from beyond the glass.

Patrick was delightful, in that practiced, overly self-assured manner. He donned his tailored tuxedo like a suit of armor, hair styled to perfection, and shoes that had never seen dirt. And he was speaking once more-about himself, as usual.

"-then I informed the board that if they didn't double the bid, I would seek my investment opportunities elsewhere. You should've seen their faces," he remarked with a self-satisfied smile. "Naturally, they gave in. No one says no to Patrick Sinclair."

Claire gave a nod, providing a brief smile as her gaze became distant. She had listened to this tale three times before. And he had never inquired about her day, her feelings, or her aspirations. She was just... there.

He tilted his head and gently kissed her cheek. "You look amazing this evening, sweetheart. That outfit? Certainly compensates for the snooze-fest this gala ended up being."

"Thank you," she murmured.

He failed to perceive the monotony in her voice.

She noticed Lena on the other side of the room, wearing that expression-eyebrows lifted, lips contorted in that 'I'm going to pull you out of here' look. Claire smiled weakly. God, she needed saving.

After an hour of grinning at unknown faces and drinking champagne she didn't desire, Claire made her way to the ladies' lounge, where Lena was already present.

"You look like you're dying inside," Lena remarked, arms folded while leaning against the vanity.

"I feel like I am," Claire murmured, resting against the marble counter, her fingers gripping the chilly surface. "Lena... what am I doing?"

Lena lifted an eyebrow. "That's what I've been wondering. You used to laugh. Dance in the kitchen. You haven't genuinely smiled in weeks."

Claire exhaled deeply and sank into a velvet chair. "Patrick appears impressive on paper. He is all that my father desires. But..."

"But, he's not what you want," Lena said softly, kneeling next to her. "Claire, you warrant much more than this shallow high-society trophy-wife nonsense."

Claire gazed at her reflection-her tailored dress, her intricately styled hair, the diamond ring that felt like a restraint.

Her voice cracked. "I don't know what to do, Lena."

Lena smiled. "You're thinking about him. Aren't you?"

Claire shot her a glance. "Lena..."

"What?" Lena declared, raising her hands. "You've only mentioned him about a hundred times. 'His eyes were so intense, Lena. His hands were strong but gentle, Lena. He saw me like no one else does, Lena.' Lena said in prefect mimicry of Claire.

Claire's lips curved ever so slightly, as the memory came to life once more. "He did, though. I barely knew him, but it felt like he saw through all of this." She pointed to her luxurious attire. "Like he saw me."

Lena's teasing became gentler. "Then why haven't you gone back to him?"

Claire gazed downward. "Because I'm engaged. Because I am a Dunlop. And my father would have cow if he found out."

Lena laughed derisively. "If your father's love is conditional, that's on him. Not you."

A pause of silence lingered for a moment. Claire finally spoke, her voice strained. "I don't love Patrick. Not even a little. I don't even like him."

"I understand," Lena replied softly, placing a hand over hers. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Claire was quiet for a while. She didn't want to be another trophy wife. She wanted a man who sees the real her beneath all the expensive items and prestigious name. Deep down in her heart, she knew Cole did.

She took a deep breath, mind made up. "I'm going to find him," Claire said suddenly, her voice firm.

Lena gazed upward, her eyes sparkling with approval. "That's the Claire I know."

Claire nodded gradually, her nerves charged. "I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe he's moved on. Maybe he won't even remember me..."

Lena grinned. "Oh, he remembers you. Believe me."

Claire gave a nervous chuckle, a burden beginning to ease from her chest "I just... I need something real. For once in my life."

Lena extended her hand and gripped it tightly. "Then go get it."

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

The quiet drone of the engine reverberated against the worn walls of Walker's Auto as Claire drove her car into the parking area. The afternoon sun's rays created a cozy light in the garage, causing the airborne dust to sparkle like little fireflies.

Claire occupied the driver's seat briefly, holding the steering wheel more firmly than needed.

She wasn't here because anything was wrong with her car.

She was here because something was wrong with her life.

Inhaling deeply for composure, she stepped out of the vehicle slowly, tweaking the cuff of her beige trench coat, the heels of her boots tapped on the uneven concrete like a nervous metronome, a subtle counterpoint to the clanging tools and the grunts of laboring men. She adjusted her skirt and made her expression look somewhat composed and walked forward.

Cole was beneath the hood of a bright red truck, sleeves pushed up, forearms marked with grease, and sweat shining at the tip of his brow.

He glanced upward upon hearing her footsteps. His eyes locked on hers. Time paused - then his whole demeanor shifted.

Surprise first. Then confusion. Then something unreadable.

"Claire?" he asked, standing up. "What are you doing here?"

She gave a shy smile. "Hi. It's my car."

He dried his hands on a cloth and walked over. "What's the problem?"

She rested her weight on the counter, angling her head. "It is making a sound."

He lifted an eyebrow. "What type of sound?"

Claire lifted her shoulders. "A... car-like sound?"

He squinted, obviously unsure, but approached nonetheless. "Okay, let's give it a listen."

Claire lifted the hood, while Cole bent over to inspect the typical culprits. He toiled with the straps, heard the engine, and examined the oil.

After five minutes, he looked at her. "Claire, your engine is in good condition. Fluids are replenished. Everything is secure. No tapping. Not an issue at all."

Her mouth became parched.

Cole crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw clenched. "So... what exactly are you doing here?"

Claire stood still. "I... I told you-"

"Claire." His tone was soft yet strong. "Come on. I don't have time for this."

A moment of silence passed. She had no idea what she anticipated-comfort? Entertainment?

In contrast, his tone became icy. "You're slumming it again? Just looking for another glance at the mechanic you'll never be with?"

Her expression changed. "What? No-"

"Did you grow tired of the wealthy guy for a day?" he pressed on, his tone more cutting now. "Seeking excitement before you stroll down the aisle?"

Her cheeks turned bright red. "Cole, that's not it-"

"You think I don't know what this is?" he retorted, stepping back. "You come here, acting like a damsel in distress, raising my hopes for no reason. You don't fit into my world, Claire. You never actually did."

The words struck more deeply than she had anticipated. Similar to slaps.

Claire's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Her heart ached painfully.

Her voice broke. "I just... wanted to talk."

Cole's gaze shifted, noticing the tears in her eyes. Her chin trembled as she angled away just a bit, blinking rapidly, yet a tear slipped out regardless. She swiftly removed it, feeling embarrassed.

His anger dissipated immediately. "Crap..." he whispered, dragging a hand across his face.

"Claire. I'm sorry. That was... completely inappropriate."

She kept her eyes lowered. "I just..." He breathed out and took a cautious step toward her. "I was not expecting you at all, and I had no idea how to handle it."

Claire remained still, hugging her arms around herself.

Cole's tone grew gentler. "Talk to me. Please."

She inhaled deeply, calming her voice. "I can't continue like this, Cole. Act as if I'm fine. Act as if I am joyful when I am not."

He remained silent, paying attention. "My existence seems to belong to another person. I'm engaged to a man I don't like, going to events that don't interest me, and making choices that were given to me before I could decide for myself."

Her hands tightened at her sides. "Since the moment I met you... I feel alive. I'm not pretending. Perhaps there exists another version of me-someone I truly aspire to become."

At last, she looked into his eyes. "I've thought of you... more than I ought to have."

Cole was stunned. He looked at her as if she had sprouted wings.

"I know this is crazy," Claire mumbled. "I shouldn't have said any of this. I'm sorry."

She pivoted, already moving in the direction of the car.

"Claire, hold on."

She hesitated, heart lodged in her throat.

Cole moved forward cautiously, his voice heavy. "I wasn't expecting you to say all of that."

Claire shifted a bit, observing him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "You've also been on my mind. Each and every day for the past six months. However, I never considered that a person like you... could truly mean it."

Claire's breathing caught. "I do."

He offered a faint, skeptical smile. "I'm unsure what this is at the moment, or where it might lead... but perhaps we don't have to understand it right now. We can start with being friends."

She rejoiced inwardly, then nodded gradually.

He indicated towards the open garage. "Come in. Please take a seat."

She entered after him, her heart still pounding, nerves buzzing like currents beneath her skin.

He retrieved a stool and offered her a bottle of root beer from a small fridge hidden beneath a workbench. "Not precisely champagne," he remarked.

Claire chuckled softly, the stress alleviating. "It's perfect."

They lounged in the open garage, surrounded by the smell of oil and the warmth of the setting sun, their beverages dripping in their grasp.

"Tell me something real," Claire said softly. "Something about you."

Cole sat opposite her on a lower bench, one elbow on his knee, with the bottle leaning against his thigh, his gaze contemplative. "Okay. I dislike quietness while I'm asleep. I have an old fan next to my bed, even during winter."

She beamed, her eyes sparkling. "I adore that."

He gazed at her. "Now it's your turn."

"As a child, I would sneak into the kitchen and take leftover chocolate mousse."

Both of them laughed. The gap between them decreased. It marked the beginning of something-ambiguous, gradual, yet unmistakably genuine.

The glowing amber light of sunset created lengthy shadows on the garage floor as Claire perched on the old stool, her fingers softly wrapped around the icy root beer bottle. The smell in the air was a mix of motor oil and citrus-scented hand cleaner. Although surrounded by grease and dirt, she felt more comfortable than she had in weeks. For the first time in years, Claire sensed that she was precisely where she was destined to be.

Cole gazed at her with a gentle curiosity, his blue eyes warmer now that the earlier tension had faded.

"So," he spoke softly, "what was it like to grow up... in a world such as yours?"

Claire exhaled softly, contemplative. "Odd," she remarked softly. "Chilly."

Cole's forehead wrinkled just a bit. "Chilly?"

She nodded, her eyes looking far away. "My mom died when I was six. I can hardly recall her, apart from how her fragrance used to smell. Gardenias. Following her passing, my father immersed himself in work and social gatherings. I grew up with a constant rotation of governesses and nannies."

"That seems... lonely."

"It was," Claire confessed. "The house was constantly populated with people-employees, visitors, occasions-but I never sensed that I fit into any of it. Lena, my best friend and Ethan, my cousin were the only constants in my life. They were family more than anyone else."

She sipped her beverage and then glanced back at him. "The girls at school... the ones I referred to as friends? They enjoyed the gatherings, the trips, the shopping sprees. But I realized-they weren't genuinely there for me. Only the Dunlop name."

Cole's jaw clenched, his tone soft. "That's unfortunate, Claire."

She offered a slight smile. "I often envisioned escaping. Beginning anew. However, I was unaware of how to do it."

A moment of silence passed before Claire turned her head. "What about you? What was your experience as a child?"

Cole breathed out slowly, rubbing his hands together as if he were trying to warm them, despite the lack of chill. "Definitely not a mansion tale, that's for certain."

Claire waited calmly, her face receptive. "My parents passed away in a car accident when I was ten," he spoke softly. "One minute, we were on our way to the lake house. The next... I was waking up in a hospital bed."

Claire's hand automatically reached for her chest. "Cole, I'm so sorry..."

He offered a strained grin. "Subsequently, I was put into foster care. Bounced around some. It wasn't constantly terrible, but it didn't truly feel like home either."

She remained silent, merely listening. Really listened.

"When I reached eighteen, I graduated from the system. I had been putting money aside from my summer jobs-cleaning dishes, repairing bicycles, anything I could get. I also managed to get into college. I believed I could achieve something meaningful."

Claire's eyes shone with curiosity. "You attended college?"

"For one year," Cole stated. "However, I was unable to manage the tuition fees. I gave it a shot. Labored during nights and weekends. However, it wasn't sufficient. Ultimately, I left school."

Her voice was gentle, laden with feeling. "That must have been challenging."

He lifted his shoulders. "It was. However, it brought me to this point, so I can't feel too remorseful about it."

She gazed around the garage. "So, how did you acquire this place?"

A slight smile appeared, the memory bringing him comfort. "This store was previously owned by a man named Harold Smith. Irritable elderly gentleman, yet extremely clever. I trained under him after leaving school. Gained all my knowledge in this place. When he chose to retire, he informed me that he would be selling it."

Claire leaned closer, obviously engaged. "Did you purchase it?"

Cole laughed softly. "I attempted. Gathered all the money I could find. Ultimately fell short."

Her eyebrows raised. "What happened?"

"He accepted the money regardless," Cole remarked, his tone heavy with significance. "Then gave me the deed and said, 'The shop belongs to you now. Just make sure you don't mess it up'."

Claire blinked, visibly moved. "He gave it to you? Just like that?"

"He mentioned that he noticed something within me. I suppose he thought I would handle it like he did."

Claire's eyes sparkled. "That's... amazing. He must've trusted you so much."

Cole nodded. "I've never forgotten that."

At that moment, the door slowly opened, and a recognizable figure entered-Logan, towering and broad-shouldered, dressed in a grease-smeared tank top and sporting a playful smile.

"Good evening, Romeo," Logan joked as he entered the garage.

Cole sighed in exasperation. "Logan, meet Claire. Claire, this is my friend-and-colleague-and-source-of-annoyance, Logan."

Logan offered a sluggish salute. "Pleasure."

Claire smiled courteously. "Hello."

"I just stopped by to pick up something," Logan remarked while walking toward the tool chest. He yanked open a drawer and took a wrench he obviously didn't need, throwing a smirk at Cole behind him.

Cole cast a glance at him. "Seriously?"

Logan gave a wink. "Sure. Absolutely necessary. See you later."

He winked at Claire as he left and vanished through the door, whistling.

Claire chuckled softly. "He's quite something."

"You have no idea," Cole muttered.

Claire looked at the clock on her phone and stood up. "It's getting dark. I have to go."

Cole acknowledged with a nod as he stood up. "Hold on-before you leave...In case you ever want to talk. About anything."

He looked nervous as he scratched the back of his head. After a moment of hesitation, he extended his hand. "Can I give you my number?"

Claire's mouth formed a smile. She took out her phone and gave it to him. He entered his number and then made a brief call to his phone.

"Cole Walker," she announced as she looked at the screen. "Mechanic slash philosopher."

Cole laughed. "Depends on the day. And the circumstance."

He accompanied her to her car, and they paused by the door for a moment, the atmosphere surrounding them electric yet relaxed.

"Thank you," Claire said. "For listening. And... for being honest with me."

Cole nodded. "The pleasure is mine."

She paused, her gaze shifting to his, then leaned in and softly placed a kiss on his cheek. Her lips were warm and fleeting, sending a jolt through him.

Claire stepped back and grinned bashfully. "Goodnight, Cole."

He gulped, astonished by the impact that simple action had on him. "Goodnight, Claire."

She got into the driver's seat, turned on the engine, and drove off, her taillights shining red in the low evening light. Cole remained in place, one hand tucked in his pocket, the memory of her kiss lingering warmly on his cheek. A grin played on his face as he saw her fade away down the street.

He found himself in a difficult situation. Yet possibly, just possibly, it was the good kind.