Adeline finally looked at him.
“I did the right thing.”
Her voice trembled once.
She hated that.
“And it cost me almost everything.”
Coulter’s eyes remained on hers.
“I don’t regret reporting it.”
She swallowed.
“But I understand if this changes things for you.”
He set down the wrench he had been turning in his fingers.
“I trust you.”
Adeline blinked.
Coulter said it again, as if she had not heard.
“I trust you.”
“You don’t even know everything.”
“I know enough.”
“What if Donovan finds something that makes me look bad?”
“He will.”
She stared.
“He’ll find something?”
“He’ll find something that looks bad.”
Coulter shrugged.
“People who want you guilty don’t need much.”
Adeline felt something crack quietly inside her.
Not pain.
The opposite.
Relief.
Coulter continued.
“My experience? Folks pointing hardest usually don’t want anybody looking behind them.”
Then he picked up his wrench.
“Also, you saved my shop.”
“I helped.”
“Don’t start.”
Adeline laughed.
Coulter returned to work.
He never mentioned the rumors again.
That conversation changed them.
Not dramatically.
There was no kiss.
No declaration.
Just trust.
Coulter began asking her opinion before making decisions.
Supplier changes.
Payment plans.
Equipment purchases.
Hiring.
Adeline started staying after hours even when work did not require it.
Sometimes they ate dinner at the parts counter.
Sometimes Coulter cooked badly in the little break area.
Sometimes Adeline brought food from the diner.
The younger mechanic began referring to them as “management.”
Neither corrected him.
There were moments.
Small ones.
Adeline tried helping with a radiator hose despite Coulter telling her to leave it alone.
The hose shifted.
Hot metal caught her hand.
She gasped.
Coulter grabbed her wrist.
“Sink.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sink.”
He held her hand beneath cold water longer than necessary.
His face looked furious.
“At me?”
“At you.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t listen.”
“You don’t either.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I own the place.”
She laughed.
Then realized Coulter was still holding her wrist.
He realized too.
Neither moved immediately.
Another afternoon, a rancher told a ridiculous story about his brother trying to tow a truck using rope intended for hay bales.
Adeline laughed so hard she had to set down the clipboard.
She looked up.
Coulter was watching her.
Not the customer.
Her.
Their eyes met.
He did not look away.
Adeline did.
Winter arrived quickly.
Snow buried the gravel lot.
The closed bays seemed colder than ever.
Business slowed after storms because people avoided unnecessary driving.
Coulter finally started the wood stove each morning without pretending it was unnecessary.
Adeline moved some bookkeeping into the shop office beside it.
They worked within the smell of cedar smoke and coffee.
The season narrowed life.