The engine of her Ford Bronco sputters and creaks. The old vehicle had spent the whole drive up protesting the hills and winding roads that left her constantly breaking. Now, it seemed her ancient car, that she had served her faithfully through college and early adult years, had decided to kick her in the ass. 

“No, no, no.” She groans, hitting her head against the hard steering wheel and instantly regretting it. There’d be a bruise later in the day with her luck. “Not today, baby. I’ve only been at this job a week, I can’t be late already.” 

It would be just her bad luck that the car would give out, her luck that the cell service was questionable so she couldn’t even call. But what wouldn’t be her normal bout of unfortunate events was the man who lived just down the road that she’d seen tinkering with an old sports car. She pops up her head, remembering his existence and hurries out into the morning chill. 

With her fingers crossed together that the stranger would not be a creep, she walks in a fast pace down the cracked asphalt to the little arts and crafts home that sat at the bottom of the hill. There was a blooming garden out front, despite the change in seasons, vegetable, herbs and a few flowers bursting to life and ready for harvest. The two rocking chairs on the front porch made her a little less nervous. Whoever the home belonged to, they seem charming enough in their landscape and aesthetic. 

Hands trembling, she knocks against the screen door, wondering if she should open it and knock directly on the faded blue front door. But after a few knocks, the sound of muffled footsteps reached her ears and soon enough the door was unlocked and opened. Except, the man standing in the doorway was not who she’d seen tinkering with the car, instead, he struck her as a cowboy. Someone who would’ve starred in the western movies her father watched when she was a kid. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, a dull but still visible southern twang visible in his voice. Maybe he was a cowboy, his checkered shirt and worn down boots said as much. 

“Oh, um–” She pauses, trying to collect herself so as to not sound like a fool. The anxiety of being late and belittled by her unruly coworkers was pressing deep into her skin. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so early in the morning. But I just moved into the house up the road last week and my car doesn't want to run today and I’m going to be late for work. I had noticed in passing before that there’s someone in this household who works on cars and was wondering if he’d be willing to take a look at the engine for me? I’m helpless with mechanics.” 

The man nods, understanding her plea for help. “That’s right, John spends all his free time on that hunk of shit.” 

“Are you talking bad about my car again, Phillip?” A booming voice asked from inside the house, it caused her to stand at attention being vividly alert. Suddenly, the man she’d seen while driving by is standing over Phillip’s shoulder, hands resting on Phillip’s hips and a tilt to his head. “Hello there, not often we get new people in these parts.” 

“She just moved into the Riley’s house, her car is acting up, John.” Phillip tells the newcomer in the conversation. Together, the men made quite a fitting pair, rugged and worn at the edges, with various lengths of facial hair and two sets of blue eyes. Without them having to say it out loud, she could feel the warmth of their shared intimacy, a love she could only envy and never grasp. 

“Really? Never thought anyone would be willing to buy it— Ow!” John grumbles, rubbing his side where Phillip had jutted his elbow. “Right, your car. Let me get my things.” 

She frowns at the statement the man had begun but been unable to finish. What had John meant by that? Sure, the house wasn't the nicest, there were cobwebs in corners, cracks on some of the window panes, and a musty smell from sitting empty for a while, but it was a nice enough house. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a cozy kitchen that looked out into the woods. It was a quaint cottage that was a dream come true compared to the studio apartment she’d left behind. 

John disappears back into the house, leaving her with an awkward look on her face as Phillip stands there. She wants to ask what John meant by it, the curiosity or rather fear of the truth taps insistently against her skull. But she imagined her neighbor would just shut her down like he’d done with his partner. 

“If it can be fixed, John can fix it, ma’am. He owns and runs the little auto shop in town, you’ve probably seen it. It’s the only one in this hellhole.” Phillip tells her, breaking up the static silence that had overcome them. 

“You don’t like it here?” She raises a brow, surprised to hear it. The few coworkers she had at her new job only sang the praises of Abedreen, telling her it was the greatest little town to live in. But it was clear in Phillip’s tone that he didn’t share the sentiment. 

“I like John, that’s enough to take me anywhere.” 

There was a faithfulness in his voice she didn’t think she’d ever heard outside of television and novels. Her parents were divorced when she was a girl, all her friends in college seemed to have constant relationship problems and doubts, but there wasn’t a doubt in his words. 

“Alright, lead the way.” John reappears behind his partner with a fat toolbox in hand, seemingly unaware of what Phillip had said. But she had a suspicion he knew, because as subtle as it was, she noticed John loop his finger quickly through the belt loop of Phillip’s jeans and tug slightly. And as she turned away to walk off the porch, the smile on Phillip’s face was as visible as the mist that hung in front of her. 

The crunching of John’s boots on top of the gravel kept her company as they walked back to the road. There was a clear impression that the man was the less talkative of the couple, using few words to get his point across. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but his big hulking figure following her like a shadow kept her nervous. While Phillip had reminded her of the movies her father used to watch, John reminded her of her father. Broad shoulders, dark hair covering his jaw, lack of conversation, and intimidating stature. She couldn’t even remember where her father had been born. Somewhere out west, or so she thought. 

“So how come you moved to Aberdeen?” He finally speaks up once they’re on the road, headed back up the hill to her new home. “Got family in the area?”

“No.”

“Okay. You don’t exactly strike me as the logging or mining type–” 

“An old college friend was from here, and I happened to come across a job position at the library and remember her telling me about the town.” She shrugs, not knowing what else to say without spiraling into the life events that left her desperate enough to start anew in the middle of nowhere, in a town no one seemed to know about. 

“Ah.” John responds. She turned to look quickly down at the asphalt, his thoughtful gaze told her more than enough. He knew there was more to the story, and either he didn’t care or he was polite enough not to ask. “Who’s the friend?”

“What?”

“Your old college friend from here? Who are they? I’d probably know them, lived my entire life in the area.” He says, coming to a slow pace as they reached the top of the hill, her Bronco sitting and waiting to be inspected. She could only pray he could tell her it was fixable. 

“Um, Beau Ridley. Well, now Beau Mayfield since she’s married.” She rambles off, stopping quickly in fear that she’s being too much. A habit she’d developed quickly in college. 

“Yeah, I know Beau– pop the hood for me?” John sets down his tool box and she scurries to follow his orders like a kid finding the right wrench for their dad. Despite owning the car for ages, she struggles to remember where she had to look to open the boot. Finally, the boot clicked open and her view out the windshield was obscured with the metal. From this view, she could see just how badly the paint had begun to fade, and that there was dried bird poop that hadn’t been there the night before. 

“Sorry.” She apologizes as she climbs back out of her car, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt.

“What for?” He doesn’t even bother looking up from the engine of the car as he pokes around. Blinking at him, she realizes he doesn’t care that it took her a bit too long to pop the trunk or that she disturbed his morning. Realizing that makes her shift from one foot to another and drop her gaze down to the dirt of her driveway. 

“Do me a favor and try to turn on the engine, would ya?” John asks and she quickly hurries to fulfill that task too. She hated meeting new people and new beginnings simply because it meant she had to work hard to make a good impression, the people here weren’t disappointed in her and expected failure like those she knew before. It was a feeling she hated, seeking approval. Yet she did it anyway. 

Propping herself up in the driver’s seat, she fumbles with her keys– the cat keychain she had kept getting in the way– before finally turning the key in the ignition. The rough sound of her car sputtering and struggling, failing to do it’s most basic task of running, causes her to wince. And when she pokes her head out to see John’s expression as she continues to try to make it turn on, she realizes her car is screwed. 

“So?”

“Need to get in the shop,” He informs her. John takes his time explaining what he believed to be the problem and it went all over her head, so she simply nodded. She knew how to change a tire, replace the blinker fluid, and even knew where to refill the car’s coolant, but anything more was outside her realm of knowledge. “You didn’t understand a thing I said, did ya?” 

“No sir.” 

John nods his head in sympathy, probably used to clueless customers in his auto shop. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, John pulls out his cracked phone and types up a number. “I’ll call my tow-guy to come up and take it down to the shop, free of charge.”

“How am I going to get to work?” She suddenly responds, remembering why she’d even gone to John’s house in the first place. There’d always been a struggle for her to focus on what comes after something, stuck in the present unable to look forward to the future. Even if the future is only an hour away. 

“Where do you work?” He asks her, putting the phone up to his ear to make the call. 

“At the library.” She responds quickly, John registers her words with a nod before turning away to speak to his tow-driver. He barks at the unfortunate driver, seemingly annoyed by his antics until the call finally ends and he turns on his boot heel to look back at her. 

“Johnny’s gonna be here in about twenty minutes, he’ll drop you off at the library. If that’s alright with you?” John says, making sure that she was comfortable with the situation. “Otherwise, I could drive you down later once I’m done with my breakfast and coffee.” 

“No, no, that’s more than enough.” Her mind keeps going back to his statement, free of charge. How many times had she gotten something in life free? Rarely, if she could remember correctly. “Thank you, John.” 

“You’re in Aberdeen. We take care of our neighbors here.” He turns to close his tool box, picking up the metal container with ease. “You fine with waiting on your own–”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine.” The thought of inconveniencing John further after he’d already taken time out of his day to help her was too much to ask. Even if she didn’t like the idea of waiting for a stranger to come get her car and take her to work, she’d handle it. 

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you. Again.” John nods, turning to leave with a hum in his throat low in sound but enough for her to hear in the morning. The fog is beginning to dissipate, letting the autumn sun climb through the tall spindly pine trees, the crisp air clings to your lungs like swallowing ice water. Up here, she finds that she can take a moment to breathe. Away from the bustling traffic of the city, the bog that coated the air. The only noise here was birdsong and wind. A bliss that eclipsed her senses before her phone decides to ring– her manager’s number on the caller ID. 

Her manager forgives the lateness, and even tried to ask if they could do anything to help her but she declines. Sitting on the front step of her house, the hum of a truck overtakes the sounds of nature. And when the tow truck slows to a stop in front of the cottage, she finds herself biting the inside of her cheek. The sudden realization that there’s a stranger here to get her car and take her to work makes her queasy. If she were still in the city, she would’ve considered taking the spotty public transport over this. But it was too far and difficult of a trek to make with her heavy work tote slung over her shoulders and her loafers sinking into the mud from last night’s rain. She wouldn’t make it walking. 

The door of the tow truck opens and the driver climbs out, his back stays turned to her as he reaches back in to grab something. The navy coveralls compliment his tanned arms well, and when he turns to look at her, she realizes they match his eyes as well. Even with his odd mohawk-like hair she finds herself coughing on nothing at the sight of his face. 

“You alright, ma’am?” He asks, knitting his brows together in his concern. There’s a golden look in his face, 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re Johnny?” She wheezes, struggling to clear her throat. 

“That’s right. I’ll have your car hooked up and you to work in no time.” He promises her with a grin, and she fully believes it. Maybe Aberdeen wasn’t the worst little town to exist?