“The alcohol changes you. So does the drugs. Please stop. Go back to who I fell in love with.” I had my head rested on Colt’s chest and I whispered these words to myself. His chest rose and fell with his sleepy breathing. He never heard me say these. I was afraid of what he would say if he did. Would he yell? Would he hit me? Dump me? Leave me? No. I couldn’t live if he did. But living was hard enough when he did these terrible things.

He stirred beneath me and his hand moved to my hair, where he stroked it gently and I breathed in his sweet, sweet scent.

“Are you awake?” He asks, twirling my hair around his finger.

“Yes, I am.” I say quietly, my eyes squeezed shut.

“I am, too.” He says and I hear him chuckle. I sit up and look down at him. His soft brown hair was brushed back from his face smoothly. His eyes were mysterious, but right now, they were smiling sleepily up at me with his perfect mouth.

“I have to go,” I say sliding off his bed and walking towards the bathroom off his room. I only have on a oversized t-shirt of his.

“Hey, babe. I love when you wear my t-shirt.” He calls after me and I grin as I shut the door. I plan on taking a quick shower.


We walk hand in hand along the sidewalk, headed towards the mechanic shop where he works. I don’t want to leave him when he’s sober. He’s so nice now.

We stop in front of the door that reads “Wessel Port Mechanic Shop” in faded white paint. He leans forward and pecks me on the lips, but it lasts a little longer than a simple peck.

“Bye, Colt.” I give him a quick hug, which also lasts longer that a simple quick hug.

“Come by around 3, that’s when I get off.” He brushes my hair back from my face and I just smile. He walks inside and I hear the other guys greeting him and they start joking and laughing. Worry circles around me as I head towards my apartment in the only apartment building in Wessel Port. He’ll probably drink and smoke while he’s with them. He doesn’t fully know how that affects me. He knows very little.


I stand out in front of the shop, arms cross, worry creasing my forehead. Loud metal music is playing inside and I am childishly afraid to go in. What if he gets mean. Hits me. Tells me to leave and not come back. What if he treats me like trash? Ignores me? I’ll just go home. He’ll come over later, when he’s sober. I turn and start walking away, but after a few steps I remember him telling my to come at 3:00. I stop and walk slowly back. I push open the door and the old bell jingles above me. I let the door glide shut behind me and I glance around.

“Hey, Margaret.” said Doug, a friend of Colt’s that I had met a couple times before. He was nice enough from what I’ve seen and heard.

“Is he here?” I asked stepping away from the door and little. It smelled of gasoline and smoke.

“Yeah. He’s out there,” he said jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the door out to the garage.

“Is he drunk?” I asked just loud enough to be heard over the music. Doug looked at me with pity and just nodded. Then he stood from his stool and left. I went to the door and looked out the window. I could see him working away at changing a tire. His short sleeved shirt was smeared with dirt and oil and his arm muscles bulged as he lifted the tire away from the car. I felt like a shooting star had brought him to me. He was perfect for me, me perfect for him. But his problems were rock hard, like his abs. I opened the door and shut it behind me. The music wasn’t loud out here, just the sound of working.

“Hey, Colt,” I said stepping around a pile of dirty rags. He glanced over his shoulder at me and dropped the tire where it was. He hurried over to me and little unstably. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me.

“I missed you,” he whispered into my face, and as sweet as those words were, the stench of his beer-breath burned my nose and made my eyes water a little.

“Why are you drinking at work?” I ask looking up at his boyish face. He gives me a crooked grin.

“Helps pass the time,” he lets go and pulls me over to a stool. He makes me sit.

“I have to finish changing this tire, then we can go home.” He says, giving my cheek and peck. I hold my breath so I don’t smell the alcohol.

I watch as he works quickly, yet sloppily. He drops his wrench three times and I stand up and pick it up for him. He just grins and takes it from me. When he finally finishes, he leads me outside and the fresh air washed over me.


“Margaret, can I ask you something?” Colt brushes my hair down and I just nod. We are lying on giant the couch in his small home, me in front of him, my head against his broad chest.

“Do you love me?” His voice sounds quivers a little. I roll over to face him, instead of the TV.

“With all my heart,” I whisper and his lips kiss mine sweetly.

“Will you, Margaret Marie Cade, marry me?” His voice flows around me and I feel the tears well up in my eyes. I forget his smoking, and his drinking, and my fears, and I look into his beautiful eyes. I feel love surround us and I just kiss him. I cling to him and I let some tears slip from my eyes and I pull away, sucking in my air.

“I would love to marry you, Colt Tyler Hudson.”