Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother

142 Chapter 142

Seraphina’s POV 1

“Ouch! Shit!”

The wrench slipped from my oily fingers and smackedright in the shin. | hopped around on one foot like an

idiot, clutching my leg.

“Language, city girl!” Caleb’s voice drifted out from under the truck hood, but | could hear him laughing.

“Oh, shut up!” I shot back, rubbing my bruised shin. “That actually hurt!”

“What hurt more? Your leg or your pride?”

| stuck my tongue out at the general direction of his voice, even though he couldn't see me. “Both, thank you

very much.”

Two weeks. Two whole weeks of grease under my fingernails, oil stains on my clothes, and tools that seemed

determined to attack me.

My hands looked like I'd been wrestling with machinery-which, to be fair, | had been.

Gone were the perfectly manicured nails and soft skin. Now | had actual calluses. Real, honest-to-God calluses

from real work. And

weirdly? | was kind of proud of them.

“Sera, you still alive over there?” Caleb poked his head out, blonde hair sticking up every which way, a smudge

of black grease across his

cheek.

“Unfortunately.” | bent down to pick up the traitorous wrench. “This thing has it out for me, | swear.”

“The wrench isn’t the problem. You're holding it wrong.”

“I am not!”

“Are too. He emerged fully from under the hood, wiping his hands on an already filthy rag. “Here, letshow

you.”

Before | could protest, he was behind me, his arms coming around to guide my grip on the wrench. His chest

pressed against my back,

warm and solid, and | caught a whiff of his scenta€“motor oil, soap, and something purely masculine.

“See? Like this, he murmured near my ear, his hands covering mine. “Don’t grip so tight. Let the tool do the

work.”

My brain short-circuited for exactly three seconds. Then | jerked away from him like I'd been burned.

“Got it. Thanks. I'm good now.”

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

Caleb stepped back, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You sure? Because your face is about as red as that

fire engine we worked on

yesterday.”

“It’s hot in here,” | mumbled, turning back to the engine I'd been working on.

“Uh-huh.”

| could practically hear his grin. Smug bastard.

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“Don’t you have your own work to do?” | asked, not looking at him.

“I do. But watching you wrestle with basic tools is way more entertaining.”

| grabbed a shop rag and threw it at his head. He ducked, laughing.

“You're terrible,” | said, but | was fighting a smile now too.

“Terribly charming, you mean.”

“Terribly full of yourself.”

The phone rang, cutting through our banter. | moved to answer it, grateful for the distraction.

“Morrison’s Auto Repair.”

“Hi honey, it's Mrs. Patterson. Is my car ready yet?”

Sweet Mrs. Patterson, who brought us homemade cookies every tshe cin. “Just finished up! Your oil's

been changed, and Caleb

checked all your fluids. Everything looks great.”

“Oh wonderful! I'll be by this afternoon to pick her up.”

“Perfect. See you then!”

| hung up and turned to find Caleb watchingwith an odd expression.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just... you're really good at this.”

“Answering phones? It’s not exactly rocket science.”

“No, | mean all of it. The customers love you. You remember everyone's names, their car problems, even their

kids‘ birthdays. Yesterday

you helped old Mr. Jameson troubleshoot his truck over the phone and saved him a service call.”

| shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I just listen.”

“It’s more than that.” Caleb’s voice got softer. “You care. About the people, about doing good work. You belong

here, Sera.”

“I... | started, then stopped. What was | supposed to say to that?

The moment stretched between us, warm and comfortable and terrifying all at once. Then the shop bell chimed,

announcing a customer.

“I'll get it,” | said quickly, escaping to the front office.

Around lunchtime, | was reconciling the morning’s receipts when a wave of homesickness hitso hard it took

my breath away.

*What are Adrian and Lily doing right now?”

| glanced at the clock. Almost noon. Adrian would be at school, probably eating lunch with his friends, chattering

about whatever five- year-olds chatted about. And Lily... God, Lily would be napping in her crib, or maybe

playing with those colorful blocks Damien bought

her.

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My chest tightened. The numbers on the receipt blurred as tears threatened.

*#Stop it,* | told myself firmly. *You made this choice. They're better off without you.*

But were they? Or was | just a coward who ran away instead of fighting for her family? 1

“Hey.” Caleb’s voice madelook up. He was standing in the doorway between the garage and office, concern

written all over his face.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine.” My voice cout too bright, too fake.

Caleb studiedfor a moment, then moved closer. “You were thinking about them, weren't you? Your kids.”

| nodded, not trusting my voice.

“That's normal,” he said gently. “Hell, it would be weird if you didn’t miss them.”

“It hurts,” | whispered. “Every day. Like there's this hole in my chest that just keeps getting bigger.”

“I know.”

“I think you're hurting,” he said carefully. “I think you made an impossible choice because you couldn't see any

other options. But Sera...

hiding here isn’t going to fix what's broken.”

“Maybe sthings can’t be fixed.”

“Bullshit.”

The word cout so sharp it madeflinch.

“You want to know what | see when | look at you?” Caleb continued, his voice intense. “I see a woman who

survived torture that would

have killed most people. Who gave birth to two children while dealing with trauma that would have broken

anyone else. Who learned to

run a business, handle pack politics, manage a household with a baby and a five-year-old.”

‘Caleb...

“You're not broken, Sera. You're healing. But you can’t heal by pretending the people you love don’t exist.”

“I don’t know how to go back,” | whispered.

“Maybe you don’t go back,” he said softly. “Maybe you move forward. But you do it as you, not as some

watered-down version you think is

safer.

| laughed, but it cout shaky. “When did you get so wise?”

“Must be all that small-town living” His grin was gentle now, understanding. “So what do you say we start with

lunch? I'll buy.”

“Okay,” | said quietly. “Lunch. But I'm still buying”

“Deal.”

As we walked toward the door, l.caught my reflection in the chrof a bumper, Messy braid, oil-stained shirt,

dirt under my

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fingernails. | looked nothing like the polished executive | used to be.

I looked real.

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