Unwelcome help

It started with a sputter.

Then a cough.

Then silence.

Aria stared at the dashboard of her father’s old Ford, as if glaring hard enough might magically bring it back to life. The damn thing had been stubborn for weeks, but today—on the hottest day in May—it decided to die in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly parking lot.

She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. “Perfect. Freakin’ perfect.”

She grabbed her phone, thumb hovering over Mason’s name. Voicemail. Again. Third call today and nothing. Her fingers trembled—not from worry, but frustration. Of course he was too busy to pick up. Probably with his friends at the shop, pretending to be the hometown hero he liked to play.

She got out and popped the hood. Not that she had a clue what she was doing, but at least pretending might stall embarrassment.

“You plan to marry the engine or just glare it back to life?”

The voice sliced through the humid air, deep and lined with amusement. Aria’s stomach dipped.

She turned. “Kade.”

He leaned against his black truck, arms crossed, shades perched on his nose like he owned the damn sun. He was too tall, too confident, and his smirk was just rude enough to make her want to punch him… or kiss him. And that was annoying.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans.

“Sure you are. That car’s fine, too. Real picture of health.” He sauntered over, glanced under the hood, and immediately started fiddling with something she didn’t understand. “You always this hard-headed or is it just for me?”

“God, do you ever shut up?” she snapped.

“Nope. Not around you. You bring out my best manners, princess.”

Her heart stuttered. Damn him.

“I don’t need help,” she added, stepping back.

He looked up, eyes narrowing. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

She didn’t answer. Because no—no she wasn’t sure. About anything these days.

Ten minutes later, Kade had the engine sputtering. He shut the hood and looked at her with that annoying tilt of his head, like he was reading her mind.

“You’re lucky I was here.”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw this damn wrench at your head.”

He stepped closer, the space between them charged.

“Do it,” he whispered. “Might give me an excuse to kiss you again.”

Her mouth fell open. “What—”

But before she could finish, he tossed the wrench into his truck bed, wiped his hands on a rag, and stepped back.

“Next time, call someone who gives a shit,” he said, voice low, rough. “Because Mason? He doesn’t.”

And just like that, he was gone—leaving her standing there, hot, breathless, and furious at everything.

Especially herself.

Aria slammed the apartment door with a little more force than necessary, the old frame shuddering in protest. The scent of cardboard, dust, and unlit candles greeted her like a slap—this place still wasn’t home. Not really. Not when everything still sat in boxes. Not when the goddamn bed frame was still in pieces against the wall.

She yanked her phone out of her purse, checking for a message. Nothing. But as if summoned by her scowl, it buzzed in her hand—Mason.

She answered without a hello.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, like the hours of silence hadn’t happened. “You called?”

“No shit, Mason,” she snapped, walking to the fridge and realizing she still hadn’t bought groceries. “I ran out of gas. My gauge is broken. You said you’d look at it weeks ago.”

Silence. Then a breathy sigh. “I was busy.”

Aria closed her eyes, grounding herself before she exploded. “You’ve been busy for the last two months. You haven’t even seen this place since I moved in.”

Another pause. “I told you I’d help. You just don’t ever ask the right way.”

Her jaw clenched. “The right way?”

“Jesus, Aria. You’re always so emotional.”

That did it.

“Emotional?” she snapped. “I’m living in an apartment I can barely afford, with furniture still in boxes, a car that’s dying, and a boyfriend who doesn’t show the hell up.”

“Now you’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being alone, Mason.”

He huffed. “You want me to drop everything because your mattress is still on the floor?”

“No,” she said tightly. “I want you to act like I matter.”

Click.

She stared at her screen, heart hammering, but the call was already over. He’d hung up.

Aria sank onto her mattress, the springs groaning beneath her. Her fingers itched to call Jamison, or maybe Kade—no. Not Kade.

But god… if Mason was her light, why the hell did she feel so cold?

She stared at her phone long after Mason’s name disappeared from the screen. Her chest still tight, fingers trembling with the aftermath of yelling into a void.

It had taken too damn much to ask for less than the bare minimum.

Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, blinking back frustration. And then—she exhaled. Scrolled through her contacts. Found the one name that always meant home.

Jamison.

He picked up on the second ring, voice warm and familiar even through the static of distance.

“Hey, Arie.”

She closed her eyes and let the nickname wash over her. “Hey, Jamie.”

“You okay?”

A humorless laugh slipped out. “Define okay.”

“Still Mason?”

“Still Mason.”

He sighed, but didn’t push. “You want me to come back early?”

“No,” she said quickly, softer now. “I just wanted to hear someone talk to me like I mattered.”

He paused, then said, “You do matter. You always will.”

She smiled faintly. “So, how’s Dad?”

A long pause—then, cautiously, “Better. He started AA.”

Aria sat up straighter, the surprise blooming fast in her chest.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Jamison said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “He’s even working a few days a week at the print shop again. Just small stuff, but… he’s showing up.”

Emotion tightened her throat. “God… that’s really good.”

“I think he’s starting to forgive himself. Slowly.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I’ve missed him.”

“He misses you too. He won’t say it, but I know.”

She sank back into the pillows, letting that warmth coat the ache left by Mason.

“Oh, and hey—I might not be back for a few more months.”

“Why?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“Well,” Jamison said with a smirk in his voice, “some tech nerd may have started a little company that blew the hell up. I’ve got contracts now, meetings every other day. But the money’s good. I’m stable. And Dad’s okay for now.”

She laughed softly. “Look at you. Mr. CEO.”

“Damn right. Just don’t tell Kade. He’ll ask for a job.”

Her heart twitched at the name. “He’s not talking to me.”

“Yet.”

“Yet,” Jamison repeated with a knowing lilt.

Aria rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious,” he said, firm now. “I know he’s a pain in the ass. I know he’s been cold and hot and whatever other mood swings you want to throw in there. But… Kade doesn’t do things without reason. Never has.”

She turned on her side, dragging a blanket over her legs. “He doesn’t say anything either.”

“Because you don’t ask,” Jamison said simply. “Not really.”

She went quiet.

“I’m not trying to play matchmaker,” he added, voice softening. “But I’ve known you both too long to ignore the way you look at each other when you think no one’s watching.”

“Jamie—”

“I’m just saying… try actually talking to him. And actually listen this time. Not with your pride. Not with your hurt. Just… be Aria. The Aria he used to run to when his whole damn world collapsed.”

Her chest tightened.

“He needs that girl. And maybe… you need that boy too.”

Silence stretched across the line, long and heavy.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I love you, Arie.”

“I love you too.”

They hung up.

And for the first time in a while, Aria didn’t feel so alone.