Chapter 1 — A Rainy Disruption
Kate
The rain came down in relentless sheets, hammering against the windshield of Kate Monroe’s sedan and reducing the road ahead to a blurry, gray smear. The rhythmic thumping of the wipers provided little relief, each sweep smearing the view further. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles pale with tension. The day had begun its descent into chaos with a morning meeting that dragged on twenty minutes too long, unraveling the meticulously crafted schedule Kate had spent hours refining.
Her hazel eyes flicked toward her wristwatch—the sleek, silver one her father had given her at her university graduation, a symbol of precision and control. The hands read 4:47 PM. Late. Again. A client call was now out of the question, and dinner plans with an old friend—one of the few personal indulgences she allowed herself—were slipping further out of reach. The rain wasn’t just an annoyance; it was a calculated insult to her carefully ordered day.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered, pressing harder on the gas in a futile bid to reclaim lost time.
That hope shattered with a jarring bump-bump-bump vibrating through the car. The steering wheel lurched stubbornly to the right, and Kate’s stomach sank. Easing the car toward the shoulder, she stared at the dashboard as a terrible realization began to form. The rain hissed louder as the vehicle slowed to a stop. A flat tire.
Kate let out a sharp exhale, leaning back against the headrest as the reality of her situation settled over her. “Wonderful,” she mumbled. For a fleeting moment, she considered just staying there, waiting for the storm to pass. But that would be surrender. This wasn’t the end of the world—just an irritating, time-consuming setback.
“Okay, think,” she whispered, her mind already assembling a mental checklist. Spare tire? Check. Jack? Probably. Weather conditions? Miserable. Outfit? Her charcoal pencil skirt and ivory blouse clung uncomfortably to her skin. She winced. Definitely not ideal. Gathering her resolve, Kate reached for the umbrella in the passenger seat and stepped out, bracing against the onslaught of rain.
The umbrella flipped inside-out the instant it hit the wind, and she wrestled with the spindly frame as the rain soaked through her clothes. “Perfect,” she muttered, abandoning it altogether and trudging to the trunk. Her low heels splashed through rising puddles, and she retrieved the spare tire and jack, squinting through the downpour at the deflated tire under the wheel well. The angle of the car, combined with the slick pavement, made changing it herself a near-impossible task.
Straightening, Kate scanned the stretch of road for any sign of help. Nothing but rain and muted headlights in the distance. She pulled out her phone, shielding it from the rain with one hand. A quick search brought up the nearest tire shop: Jerry’s Tire Shop, three miles away. Decent reviews. No other options.
Her thumb hovered over the call button. Asking for help grated against every fiber of her being, but this wasn’t negotiable. With a frustrated groan, she tapped the number and ducked under the raised trunk.
“Yes, Jerry’s Tire Shop, what can I do for ya?” The voice on the other end was gruff, with a tinge of dry amusement.
“Hi, I’m stuck on the side of the road with a flat tire,” Kate said, her tone clipped. “Can someone—”
“Can’t send anyone out, ma’am. We’re not exactly AAA, y’know? But we’re open if you can get here.”
Kate pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Hanging up, she tossed her useless umbrella into the trunk, climbed back into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Rain streamed down the windshield as she pulled back onto the road, her damp clothes clinging to her like a second skin. “Just get through this,” she muttered under her breath.
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Jerry’s Tire Shop emerged through the rain like a mirage, its weathered neon sign flickering weakly above the entrance. The muddy lot stretched before her, as unwelcoming as the storm. Kate parked, grabbed her bag, and hurried inside as the metallic chime above the door announced her entrance.
The smell of motor oil, rubber, and faintly burnt coffee greeted her. The waiting area was cramped and cluttered, with mismatched chairs surrounding a low table stacked with outdated car magazines. A vending machine buzzed loudly in the corner, and the distant clinking of tools echoed from the garage. Kate’s sharp eyes caught a battered red toolbox perched on the counter, its peeling paint revealing patches of dull metal beneath. A small pile of receipts and what looked like a crumpled thank-you note lay scattered beside it—details she dismissed immediately as irrelevant.
The man behind the counter glanced up from a clipboard. Burly, with a graying beard and oil-stained overalls, his sharp eyes took her in with an unhurried sweep. “You must be the one who called.”
“Yes. Kate Monroe,” she replied crisply. “My car has a flat tire.”
Jerry nodded, his movements deliberate. “Keys?”
“How long will this take?” she asked, her tone tight.
“Depends. Could be an hour. Could be three. If we’re lucky, the part’s in stock. If not…” He shrugged as though three hours of her life were a trivial inconvenience.
Kate’s temples throbbed. “Three hours? That’s unacceptable.”
Jerry’s lips quirked into what might have been a smirk. “You’re not going anywhere on that flat, ma’am.”
This man was either the most patient person alive or completely immune to urgency, she thought. Kate handed over her keys with reluctant precision. “Fine. But please, make it quick.”
Jerry grunted an acknowledgment and disappeared into the garage, leaving Kate alone in the waiting area. She perched on one of the mismatched chairs, crossing her legs tightly. Her damp blouse clung unpleasantly, and she dabbed at it with a tissue from her bag. Her wristwatch read 5:23 PM. The relentless ticking seemed louder in the cramped room, a cruel reminder of the minutes slipping away.
The door banged open, letting in a gust of wind and a man who seemed entirely unfazed by the storm. Shaggy brown hair clung to his forehead, and droplets slid off his worn leather jacket. He shook himself off like a dog, spraying water in every direction, and grinned at Jerry, who had just re-emerged.
“Jerry, my man! Engine’s acting up again,” the newcomer said, his tone light and teasing. His t-shirt sported the logo of a band Kate didn’t recognize, and his jeans were comfortably worn, the knees faded. He carried himself with an ease that bordered on infuriating.
Jerry grunted. “What’re you doing to that car of yours, Nate? I should start charging you double.”
“Please. You’d miss me,” Nate replied breezily, before turning to Kate. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I’m not interruptible,” Kate said flatly, refusing to look up.
“Touché.” He dropped into the chair across from her, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the armrest. “What’s your story?”
“My story?” Kate echoed, her tone edged with incredulity.
“Yeah. Everyone’s got one. What brings you to Jerry’s on this fine, apocalyptic evening?”
“A flat tire,” she said shortly, her eyes fixed on her phone. “And I’m busy.”
“No kidding,” Nate said, glancing pointedly at her watch. “That thing glued to your wrist or what?”
Kate’s hazel eyes snapped up, narrowing. “Some of us value punctuality.”
“Fair enough,” he said, hands raised in mock surrender. “But something tells me we’re both stuck here for a while.”
Kate let out a sharp breath, turning back to her phone. The rain continued its relentless rhythm, and the vending machine hummed in the corner. It was going to be a very long wait indeed.
