I Can Fix That

by Juliana Smith

I opened my mouth to suggest that she hire me, but my voice was caught in my throat. What is happening? I didn’t get choked up talking to pretty women, and I certainly was never found speechless.

She was gone. I was left with only a little memory of her to replay in my head—that and the treacherous thought of ruined hardwoods.

“I can fix that.”

“I can fix that. It’s like your catchphrase.” A chuckle resonated in his chest. “I don’t know, Hart. Maybe I like showing you what I’m best at.”

He reached up to grab a stray hair and tucked it behind my ear. “Do me a favor? Text me when you’re home.” I nodded my head, chills running down my arms.

Constantly pleasing others left you expecting the same back, even though you never asked for it. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to float through life focusing on yourself—putting yourself first and not wondering how you were doing others wrong.

If there were one thing I’d noticed with Grant, it was that he showed his affection through diminutive actions. A delicate touch on the small of my back, draping a jacket over my shoulders, checking to see my reaction after he said something, pushing the vents toward me when it’s hot. They were small gestures, but they meant the most to me. They were the kind of actions others wouldn’t think twice about, and that women read about in romance novels. The kind you expect as a young girl but can hardly find a man who will be so thoughtful. It was clear Grant was not a chatty man, but those measures said more than his words ever could.

I couldn’t hold back my smile. Of course, he was here to fix something for me.

“You need to learn that you teach other people how to treat you. If you constantly let other people push your limits, one day you won’t have any.”

“Why do you not have any pictures up on your walls?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I never had anything I felt was important enough.” It was a simple answer, with a complex background. Just like him.

“That smile… it’s going to be the death of me.”

In the corner of the desk sat a 4x6 black picture frame. I reached over and pulled it towards me, and my stomach dropped at the sight of the picture. It was me.

My mind drifted back to Grant’s previous statements. I never had anything worth putting in a frame. But there I was. In a frame on his desk.

“You’re so pretty.” I blushed at his drunken honesty, “Am I?” I was fishing. I knew I was. But how often did Grant let his guard down enough to let me know exactly what he’s thinking? “The prettiest. If you were my teacher when I was little, I think I would’ve failed every test.” I giggled and put my hand over his. “I think you’re a little off your rocker.”

There sat several trinkets. The first one that grabbed my attention was a white pebble. It was the pebble from when we were at the bar. I knew we lost it somewhere in our game but I wasn’t paying enough attention to see him stick it in his pocket. Next to the pebble was one of the tickets to the flower field we went to. Beside those was the fortune from the cookies he brought the first time he came over. I picked it up and saw a receipt sitting below it.

The receipt was nothing fancy; it was just for some paint from Cooper’s hardware store. It was clearly a little old and worn. I turned over the back to see a date written in bright red ink on the back. The date was May of last year and it was circled in the same red ink. Below the date was one word. “Her.” It was underlined twice as if that was the most important part of the receipt. And it hit me all at once, that it was me. The date was from when Grant and I first met at Cooper’s.

“They’re my June-venir’s.” I thought my heart was going to implode. He continued, “I kept it in case I would get lucky enough to meet you again. And then I couldn’t stop saving little souvenirs from our meetings.”

“Grant.” I breathed out my nose, gripping him as tight as I could. I leaned back too far and accidentally shoved his tool box to the ground. It fell with a loud clatter and tools spread across the floors. He chuckled lightly, both hands on my waist, and muttered out my favorite saying of his. “I can fix that.”

“I’ll come back for you, Hart.”

“June. My heart broke when Beau said you were selling it; all I could think was my poor sweet girl fell for something that she is so much stronger than. I knew what had to be done, and I’d be an idiot if someone outbid me for you.”