⸻
Chapter 5: Broken Nails and Bruised Pride
Day two at Rivera Auto & Repair started with Lana jamming her thumb in a toolbox and ended with a splash of dirty mop water to the face. Somewhere in between, she dropped a cup of coffee on the front desk computer and nearly called brake fluid "engine syrup" again.
By noon, her shirt was soaked in sweat and her pride had left the building.
"This isn't working," she muttered under her breath, trying to lift a tire that felt like it weighed more than her.
"You're using your back, not your legs," came Jayden's voice behind her. "You're gonna throw out something expensive."
Lana dropped the tire with a grunt. "Why do you always show up just when I'm screwing up?"
He shrugged and leaned against the garage wall, arms crossed. "Maybe that's the only time you're noticeable."
She glared at him. "You know, you could try being nice."
He tilted his head slightly. "And you could try not quitting."
"I'm not quitting."
"No? You've looked at that clock like twelve times in the last ten minutes."
She scowled and wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. The heat, the smells, the noise—it was overwhelming. Her muscles ached, her hands were blistering, and the inside of her head buzzed with the ghost of air conditioning and iced lattes.
This was nothing like her old life.
And that was exactly the problem.
"I don't belong here," she muttered.
Jayden's gaze sharpened. "Then leave."
Lana froze. She hadn't expected that. She thought he'd scoff, or tease her, or smirk the way he always did. But his voice was dead serious.
"If you're here just to prove something to your ego, don't waste our time. We work. We get dirty. No one cares what car you used to drive or what school you used to go to."
She felt her chest tighten. "I'm trying."
"Then try harder."
There was no malice in his tone—just something colder. Like he'd stopped believing in excuses a long time ago.
⸻
Later that afternoon, while mopping the back hallway, Lana leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Her knees were sore, her hair stuck to her forehead, and she was pretty sure she smelled like gasoline.
Tears stung the edges of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Then she heard a noise—a soft creak. Jayden walked into the hallway carrying two water bottles. Without saying a word, he handed her one and sat across from her on the floor.
"I was rough earlier," he said after a pause. "I just… don't like tourists."
She looked up. "Tourists?"
"People who come into this kind of life for a day, pretend they're suffering, then disappear back into their world."
"I don't have a world to go back to."
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded like he believed her.
"You looked like you were gonna cry earlier," he said.
"I wasn't."
He smirked. "Sure."
She gave a small laugh despite herself. "Fine. Maybe a little."
He took a sip of his water, then looked at her with something softer in his eyes. "It gets better."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been there."
Lana blinked. "What happened to you?"
Jayden looked away. "Another day."
There was a silence between them—but not an awkward one. Just quiet. Like the kind that comes when two people stop pretending they don't understand each other.
She looked at him again. Really looked.
Under the grease and sarcasm, he wasn't just a guy who fixed cars.
There was weight in him. Depth. Maybe even pain.
"I'm not here to be a tourist," she said finally. "I want to learn. Even if I suck at everything right now."
He nodded. "Then we'll start with tires. Tomorrow morning."
"Wait—you're actually going to teach me?"
Jayden smiled faintly. "Someone has to. You'll burn the place down if we leave you unsupervised."
Lana rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of something warm in her chest.
Hope, maybe.
Not for her old life. That was gone.
But for something new.
Maybe even something better.