the garage was quiet, save for the rhythmic metallic clinking of a wrench against a chassis and the low hum of a radio lost in static. the air smelled of stale oil, old rubber, and the heavy scent of central valley heat settling into the pavement. opie was positioned deep under a truck, his large frame barely fitting in the cramped space, his mind focused on the mindless, honest work of fixing something that was broken.
he saw your shoes first.
they weren't the spiked heels or worn-down boots of the women who usually drifted through the redwood original lot. they were sensible, practical, and grounded. he froze for a second, the wrench stilled in his hand, before pushing himself out from under the heavy metal frame.
as he slid out, the flickering overhead light caught the grease smeared across his forehead and the thick, dark beard that had grown longer since youβd last seen him. he sat up slowly, his massive physical presence filling the small pocket of the garage. he wiped his hands on a rag that was already blackened with grime, his brown eyes locking onto yours with a weight that felt like a physical touch.
"youβre still wearing that same grease-stained beanie, ope. iβm starting to think itβs fused to your skull," you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart hammered against your ribs.
opie let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh, his gaze trailing over you, taking in the way the years had changed you and yet kept you exactly the same. the woman standing before him wasn't the girl who had fled charming all those years ago. there was a settled strength in your expression, a quiet confidence in your curves that hadn't been there before.
"itβs a different one. mostly," he replied, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. "youβre early. i thought you weren't coming back until your dad's funeral."
you shifted your weight, looking around the familiar, oil-stained walls of the shop. "i wasn't. but i realized i didn't want the first time i saw you to be over a casket."