The garage was still.
The kind of still that pressed against the skin. late light bleeding through high windows. The mustang's hood left half-open like a breath never finished.
Elena sat on the edge of the workbench, the phone in her hand. The voicemail notification glowed.
Mack (1).
She stared at it like it might tell her what he was going to say before she let him say it. But silence only waits so long.
She tapped the screen. Put it on speaker.
The message clicked on, Mack's voice rough and clipped like always—no filler, no time wasted.
"Got your part. It'll be at the shop by morning. But, Elena..."
A pause.
"That car—black '69, modded, chrome trim? That car doesn't disappear. It gets passed down. Or taken."
Another pause.
"You working on it, that's your call. But whoever left it with you...he's not just a customer."
Click.
That was it.
Short.
Direct.
And suddenly, the silence in the garage felt like it meant something else entirely.
Elena sat there a moment longer, ger hand still on the phone, eyes fixed on the open bay where the Mustang rested like it knew something she didn't.
Behind her, the sound of the ouder door swung open—lighter, looser than his. Carmen's voice followed a second later, casual and soft.
"Hey. Thought i'd catch you before you locked up."
Elena didn't answer right away. Just let the phone slip into her back pocket and stood.
Carmen stepped into the garage, sipping the last of something probably too sweet and too cold, eyed flicking towards the Mustang.
"you get it sorted?"
"Mostly," Elena said, brushing a hand across the back of her neck. "Part's coming in the morning."
Carmen caught the shift in her tone—barely—but she didn't poke it. Not yet.
"You want help closing up?"
Elena gave a small nod, then reached to shut the hood on the Mustang. It came down slow. Solid. Final.
Outside, the sun had dropped behind the buildings, casting the lot in soft blue shadow. Just another day. At least, that's how it looked.
They didn't talk much on the drive home. Carmen filled the silence with low music and half-finished thoughts about dinner. Elena just nodded occasionally, her mind still half in the garage. Half on the car she hadn't finished. And a man who somehow felt unfinished too.
When they got to the apartment, the air was cooler, the windows open to let it in. Streetlights cast long shadows through the living room as Carmen kicked off her shoes and tossed her keys into the bowl by the door.
Elena dropped her bag by the couch and headed straight for the kitchen.
"Beer or tea?" she asked, opening the fridge.
Carmen flopped down onto the couch. "Both. I want to feel balanced."
Elena smirked and grabbed two bottles. She handed one off, sat down next to her, and cracked hers open.
Carmen took a sip, then looked over. "You've been quiet."
"Long day."
"You wanna talk about it?"
Elena didn't answer right away. She took a sip. Let it sit. Then—
"Guy with the Mustang. He's..."
Carmen raised her eyebrows. "He's what? Hot? Broody? Suspiciously good at leaning on things?"
Elena gave a soft huff of a laugh. "I don't know."
"You don't know, or you don't like not knowing?"
Thad made Elena pause. She didn't answer that either. Instead, she looked out the window—at the way the lights from a passing car painted slow-moving lines across the wall.
Something about that Mustang. Something about him. It felt like a fuse had been lit. And she wasn't sure how long the wire was.
Carmen stretched out on the couch, toes nudging the coffee table, bottle resting on her stomach. "Well, i hate to break it to you, but the mystery's working. You're thinking. That's not your usual."
Elena gave her a sideways look. "Thanks."
"You know what i mean." Carmen turned to face her more fully. "It's different. You're different."
Elena didn't argue. Just traced the lip of her bottle with her thumb.
Then, after a beat too long to be casual, she said, "I saw him before."
Carmen blinked. "What do you mean?"
"At the club," Elena said. "The other night. When you dragged me out."
Carmen sat up. "Wait—him?"
Elena nodded once.
"Like, same guy? Same face, same energy, same...cheekbones?"
"Same eyes."
Carmen whistled low. "And you didn't tell me this sooner because...?"
Elena looked down at her bottle. "Because i didn't know what it meant. Still don't."
"But now you're fixing his car." Carmen leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "And he leaves it with you without blinking?
Elena didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Carmen leaned back slowly, eyes narrowed like she was fitting puzzle pieces together.
"Oh," she said finally. And that oh was loaded—with curiosity, with tension, with the kind of thrill Carmen lived for and Elena tried to avoid.
Elena stood up, bottle in hand. "i'm gonna shower." Carmen didn't push. Didn't tease. Just watched her go, eyes thoughtful.
Elena paused at the hallway for half a second, like she might say something else. But she didn't. She just disappeared into the dark.
Behind her, the apartment quieted again—just the hum of a fridge, the tick of cooling pipes, and the sound of a city outside, moving like it always did.