Make me Better ~Eddie Munson x Reader~

60. Good advice

{Y/N's POV}

When I said yes to being taught by Billy Hargrove, I expected minimum effort on his part. It turns out, Carver's car needed a little bit of tuning up, and he is letting me do that job at the shop. He taught me how to change the gasoline tank, and the different sizes and ways it can be fixed or patched up for a quick fix up. Now, I am changing the exhaust valve in Carver's car while he fixes a god sent Jaguar. It was beautiful, teal colored, and it is most likely a collector's car.

It's been two weeks of being taught by him, and the days were flying by. I didn't tell anybody about this because I just didn't want the fuss of it, and I didn't want... Eddie to find out. I am scared he will think I am moving on, and that is definitely not the case. But Eddie simply continues to ignore me. Did I overdo it last time? It was just a kiss, and it hurts me deeply that he is ignoring me. I just feel empty whenever I think about him, because memories just flood in, like a wave and it hits me so hard. I sometimes cry when silence consumes me at my home, or I sometimes zone out whenever I meet with friends and just think. Was I that easily forgettable to him? Did I not mark myself in his mind? I gulped as the dark thought invaded my mind and I lost grip of the wrench and my hand went sliding down, hitting on another metal part as I worked beneath the back of the car, laying on a creeper. I cursed loudly at the hit on my knuckles, and I definitely cut some skin.

"You alright?" I heard Billy's voice ask me and I rolled out from under the car, looking down at my right hand. I winced as I inspected the chipped skin around my knuckles, with some blood already oozing out.

"I got distracted." I said as I started to feel the burn and the pain shooting down my whole arm. I cursed again as I got up from the creeper. I had oil splatters on my shirt, as well as dirt on my cargo pants. I was using clothes I really didn't care about but I did lose the pink color on my nails.

"Bad. You can't get distracted, you will either do a poor job or injure yourself. Let's just hope you only did the second part." He sharply says to me and I slightly glared at him, but did not say a word, because he was right. I shouldn't have gotten distracted, much less with something that I thought I wasn't going to think about if I did this job. I turned around to go rinse the wound under the sink of water near the stairs and then heard footsteps coming closer to me. I looked to my side and saw Billy with his hand out and a roll of bandage on his other hand. A sigh came out of my body and gave him my hand and winced when he started bandaging around my knuckles. He was sort of rough, but still kind of careful, I noticed it by the way he was holding my hand.

"Thanks. You're pretty good at that." I complimented him and he was still looking down onto his maneuvers.

"Max got hurt a lot. She still does but takes care of herself now." He explains to me and I nodded, appreciated for the small story he gave me. I never expected him to be that caring of his sister, because Lucas once told me their relationship was not that good, but ever since his father left town, Billy got better. He went to therapy, his relationship with Max became super strong from what she told me, and he is protective of her, but not overdoing it like he did before.

I remember how mad Billy was when he found out Max was dating Lucas in middle school. He wanted to go punch the poor kid, and he even broke some of the lockers down at the gym when he received the news. I remember his anger, and his eyes said murder, not at all like he is right now. His whole demeanor changed in the matter of months and its sort of sad I am the only one, apart from Max, that can see this good change in him. The past few days he had just been a teacher, and no personal matter was discussed, not even a 'How are you?' because Billy didn't care, and honestly I didn't that much either, but I spend two hours a day with the guy... I wanted to at least have some kind of conversation. Gladly, he continued talking to me, but now I wished he didn't. "What were you thinking about?"