Free Ask Me for Tomorrow by Elise K Ackers Page B

direction, then lowered to illuminate Alice’s brown leather boots. ‘Hi,’ she said. She held a long cardboard box in one hand.
    ‘Everything okay?’ he asked. He dragged another box from a nearby shelf and used it to prop open the door.
    ‘Yeah, the bulb just blew. I’m looking for brake shoes.’ She clutched a Post-It note in the hand with the penlight, where he guessed she’d written down the specifications.
    ‘I’ll fix it. You need any help?’
    She lifted the box a fraction as she stepped forward. ‘I’ve got them.’ It wasn’t until she was close to him that she added, ‘Thanks.’ The word fell softly into the quiet, poorly lit room.
    Before she could ease past, out into the light and away from what had somehow become a moment, he reached for her and trailed his fingers across the soft flesh of her arm. She hesitated, and his fingers curled around the circle of her wrist.
    He was going to ask her now, when they were away from scrutinising eyes and bright light and time. It was only the two of them. She was going to forget there was anything else for a moment – for just long enough for him to say his piece.
    He’d told himself he’d wait for her to open up, but maybe it was as simple as asking the right question. Maybe she’d been waiting for him to broach the subject.
    ‘Alice, just . . . wait a second.’
    When she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze they were weighed down with fatigue. Dark circles were a mask on her otherwise beautiful face, and there was a small line of red on the right side of her bottom lip. She’d developed the habit of biting there, something he was sure she hadn’t done before working at the garage. Alice had become a kind of study for him, dependably unravelling a little more each day. Sometimes her clothes weren’t ironed, or her hair was scraped into a messy knot high on her head. Other times she spent her lunch hour dozing on the old couch in the kitchen. She hadn’t worn make-up for a while but even when she did, the foundation did little to disguise her increasing exhaustion.
    He hated thinking it, because he didn’t mean to belittle her job, but he knew the daily tasks he’d assigned her weren’t taxing enough to cause this. Which left a few other possible culprits, the most likely being depression.
    He’d never met someone with the condition, but he’d heard about the warning signs. A couple of afternoons of research on the internet and he thought he knew enough to broach the subject. He wasn’t sure what he could do to help, but a frank conversation was his starting point.
    ‘Let me just start by saying,’ he began, his stomach contracting with nerves, ‘that I’m here for you. No matter what. In whatever capacity you want me to be.’
    Alice’s brows drew together. ‘What’s going on?’
    ‘It may feel like the end of the world but . . . it’s not. I could . . . I don’t know, share this with you or something.’ Not wanting to presume that she was battling alone, he hastened to add, ‘Unless you’ve already got someone for that.’
    She eased away from him, her gaze searching his face for answers he was evidently failing to provide.
    ‘You don’t have to hide it from me; I can see it.’ Everyone can see it, he added to himself. She was days away from collapsing on the job. She clearly wasn’t sleeping, and this decline would soon hit rock bottom. She needed help. He wanted to be the one who saw that she got it.
    He put his other hand on her shoulder and squeezed. ‘I care about you. And honestly, it feels like this is always on my mind. I’m sorry to corner you like this but I just couldn’t watch from afar any m—’
    He’d been interrupted, but it took him a second to realise why. She’d moved. Forward. She’d stretched up on her toes and stopped his lips from closing. With her mouth.
    For a seemingly endless moment, his bottom lip was captured between hers. Then she drew away so sharply that he stumbled. Blinking