He goes silent, lost in his memories . . . of his own work, of Big John, of teaching me? Those are all the thoughts running through my mind. And a compliment from Dad about my work soothes an uncertainty inside me that’s been aching for a long time.
“Thank you, Dad. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to share this with you.” I glance at Brody, who has the good graces to not look smug about being right.
Dad follows my gaze, looking at Brody with new eyes too. He blinks several times before looking at the ceiling and then stands tall and straight. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Brody frowns. “Not necessary. You were protecting what’s most important to you. I can understand that.” Brody looks back at me, heavy meaning in his eyes. He would do anything for me. I know that as clearly as I know I’d do anything for him too.
We might not have been looking for each other, not looking for anything serious, but fuck, did we find it in each other.
The moment is broken by a herd of elephants coming up the stairs and then a quiet knock. A too-loud whisper follows, “Shh, she might still be asleep.”
Brody looks up at the ceiling as if praying for patience and unintentionally copying Dad’s move of a moment ago. I think they’ll get along fine once all the shit settles. “That’ll be my family coming to check on Erica.” He gets up to open the door, greeting our new guests.
Finally catching on to Brody’s habit, Dad mouths at me, “Erica?”
I smile, blushing, though I’ll deny that to the day I die . . . many happy years from now, God willing.
Sophie, Katelyn, Allyson, and Mama Louise come in like women on a mission, leaving no doubt that their mission is me. They shake hands with Mom and Dad, introductions all around, and say that Shayanne will be madder than a hornet that she was out of town for this. I didn’t know hornets got especially mad, but I’m not going to ask.
They ooh and ahh over my nothing-special apartment before Mama Louise helps herself to the kitchen, setting up to make fried chicken and mashed potatoes with a cast-iron skillet she apparently brought from home. She claims that comfort food will help me heal faster, and Mom hops up to help like she was waiting on a mission and the healing properties of fried foods are completely plausible.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
Both moms conspiring together could be bad, really bad. But at this point, what harm could they really do? Brody and I have already admitted our feelings and there are no more secrets.
Sophie and Katelyn whisper something about the fried chicken recipe and its importance, but I miss the details because Dad stands and says he and Brody are going downstairs.
“I think you’re in good hands here, honey.” He scans the group of women taking up residence in the tiny space and kisses my forehead before walking out the door.
Brody has the sense to look from me to the girls to the moms in the kitchen, almost like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay with the situation, but then he throws me that arrogant smirk and follows my dad. “Pussy!” I call out to him.
Mama Louise sing-songs, “Language!”
Mom shakes her head. “I swear I taught her manners, but that girl is her father’s daughter through and through.”
“And proud of it,” I say with zero humbleness.
For a hot second, I worry. Is Dad playing nice and then taking him downstairs to kill him? Reed would definitely help. But Brody can handle himself, and honestly, I think Dad is truly seeing reason. He’s had all these plans for me for so long, and I’ve been skirting some and latching onto others. I think he’s finally on board with my having my own plans too, or he’s at least considering the idea.
Once that’s settled in my mind, I look around me. Normally, I’d be irritated to be left with the womenfolk in the kitchen while the guys go talk shop just because I have a vagina, but these women make me feel like one of them, even though we’re all so different. And I find myself enjoying their camaraderie and feeling a part of it myself. Even from my couch confinement.
I’ve missed this. I have it with Emily, of course, but I don’t have female friends other than her. I have nothing in common with them, but somehow, that doesn’t matter with this group. The only thing they have in common is that they love each other and will do anything for one another. That I can support.
Mama Louise and Mom chat away about stubborn husbands, and Sophie, Katelyn, and Allyson chime in here and there. I mostly doze, feeling the pain meds kick in again.
But when I fall asleep this time, it’s with a clean slate and a full heart.
Chapter 27
Brody
Downstairs, Reed and Manuel stop what they’re doing and intercept us, Reed with his feet wide and his arms crossed while Manuel just looks worried.
“She okay?” Reed asks Keith.
He hums, nodding. “She will be. Just gonna take some time. I’ll come back and help at the shop while she’s recovering.”
That’s the first I’ve heard of that, and though it makes perfect sense, I’m a smart enough man to know that Erica’s gonna feel like Keith is stepping on her toes. But I have to trust that they’ll work it out. Fuck knows, she won’t sit idly by and make it easy on him though the man successfully ran the shop for thirty years.
Reed’s hands drop to his sides, fists curling before he points a greasy finger my way. “This is your fault,” he snarls.
“Mine? I wasn’t even here and sure don’t know a damn thing about cars for it to be my fault.”
“You knew what she was doing, and any idiot knows how dangerous it is! And still, you let her go out there and get hurt!” He points out the open garage door, like he means Erica could be hurt anywhere in the great, big world. He cares about her, and the fear Reed must’ve felt when he heard what happened is starting to worm its way into his voice, though he’s fighting valiantly to stay hard and cold.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Let her? Let her? Have you even met her, man?” I’m trying to keep it light because Reed is on the edge and I really don’t want to finish my first introduction to Keith Cole by beating the shit out of the guy he considers a son. But I will if I have to.
He growls, turning to Keith. “You told her no more racing, right?”
Errk, all stop. What the actual fuck? Does Reed think Keith would actually do that? Hell, would he? I feel like he understood where Erica was coming from upstairs, but he forbade her once and it nearly destroyed her, taking away something she loved. Now that it’s even more important to her, and all out on the table, I think it’d destroy both of them.
Slowly and carefully, Keith tells Reed, “I think it’s time to see what she can do if she can live her wildest dreams. I think it’s time for her to fly.”
Reed looks pissed, but he deflates while Manuel just continues on his stoic way. Keith therefore turns to me. “Come on, Brody. You’re taking me to the track to pick up Rix’s car. What’s she driving, anyway? I can’t wait to get behind the wheel of a racecar my little girl built.”
He sounds genuinely excited, and I know that I was right. Erica should’ve shared this with him a long time ago so that they could have this thing together. But I’ll never tell her that. It happened when it did, how it did, for a reason, even if Todd would probably beg to differ.
“I think I’ll leave that a surprise, mostly because I know I’ll fuck up all the horse-this and throttle-that she told me, and I don’t want to look like a dumbass in front of you. In my world, horses have four legs and help me herd cattle.”
Keith laughs even though I’m not kidding. But I’m taking the win.
We get in the truck, and Keith immediately runs a hand over the dash, then opens the console, rooting around inside. “What the fuck, man? That’s private,” I snap, glad that Mark didn’t have anything weird in there since I commandeered his truck to get to the hospital.
“No such thing now, Brody. Tell me everything I need to know about you, and don’t leave out the shitty stuff. I’m playing catch up here, and it pisses
me off, especially when it’s about one of my girls.” He leans back sullenly in the cushioned comfort of the seat, waiting for me to spill my guts.
Shit, his daughter is a total mini-me version of his stubborn bluster. But I decide to use that to my advantage. What works on Erica will probably work on Keith.
“Cowboy. Oldest of four. Mostly raised my youngest sister but did a shitty job of it so she raised herself to spite me. Not as dumb as I look.”
Keith grins at that. “Didn’t think Rix would have you if you’re stupid.” It’s as close to a compliment as I can expect from him. “A cowboy, you say? You got land?”
Damn, he goes right for blood. The knife cuts through my heart, and I wish to hell I could say yes. “Neighbors bought it and now we work for them. They’re like family, though. That’s who invaded back there. Technically, Mama Louise is my boss. Mostly, she’s a pain in my ass.” I scratch at my lip, grinning. There’s no heat in the insult and I don’t mean a word of it. “I’ve got a plan to get it back, though, just gonna take some time and a lot of hard work.”
“You up for that?” Keith eyes me from the passenger seat, and I keep my eyes fixed on the road.
“Been working every day my whole life. Ain’t scared of it or anything.”
He chuckles. “You scared of Rix? Because you should be. She probably knows three different ways to slit your throat and hide the body.”
He’s joking, but she’s already told me this one. “It’s five different ways. And I’m not scared of her because of that. I’m scared because she’s got my heart in her hands and that’s a scary position for a man to be in.” It’s a big confession and a gamble, but I’m laying it all out there because I don’t think there’s anything to be gained from holding back at this point when it’s blazingly apparent that Erica has me by the short hairs. “Reckon you know what that’s like with Janice?” I hedge, side-eyeing him.
From what Erica has told me, her parents are happily married and have given her and Emily a great example of what lifelong love should look like. The test is whether Keith will admit that he’s a big old softie for his wife.
“I guess I do,” he says.
I think we both just passed a test.
* * *
At the track, there’s a good-looking silver muscle car sitting by the gate. “I’ll be damned, he’s still got it,” Keith says incredulously.
“What?” I ask, not getting why he’s excited.
“Ed. I texted him that we were coming for Rix’s car. That’s his 1969 Chevy Camaro. It’s a top-notch drag car, and he’s got it modded up like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“You still have his number?”
Keith’s eyes never leave the car. “Friends are friends even when they don’t talk for a while.”
I hum in agreement. “You didn’t do the work on his Camaro?”
Keith looks at me in confusion. “Nah, I’m good but not that good. He bought it already overhauled years ago and kept it pristine. Can’t officially race on your own track, but I’ve seen him run it. Thing of beauty.”
He goes quiet, and I imagine he’s thinking of his time at the track with his friends, and mostly, about walking away from it all.
I stop by the gate, and the three of us get out. Keith and Ed’s greeting is stilted and uncertain until Ed admits, “We missed you, and I wanted to tell you about Rix, but I wanted to respect her wishes and yours too.”
Keith takes a deep breath, his jaw clenched, and I wonder if we’ve come out here for Keith to lay into Ed. The thought had crossed my mind, but Keith seemed pretty resigned to Erica racing. But maybe not?
Finally, he offers Ed a hand. “Never should’ve let it go this long. John would be mad as hell at me.”
Ed takes Keith’s hand, shaking before pulling him into a hug. He pats him on the back hard and then pushes him away like it never happened. “John was one of the good ones. Your girl tell you what she did to my Camaro?”
Keith’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You let Rix work on your Camaro?”
Ed laughs. “You have no idea what she can do, do you? She’s amazing, Keith, really something. I let her loose with a blank check and she got me running in the 8s.”
“You’re full of shit!”
“Listen to her growl,” Ed says, already popping the hood.
I have no idea what they’re saying or what they’re talking about, but they point to various things under the hood and I can tell that this more than anything has made Keith a true believer in Erica’s talents. Seeing it up close and personal, knowing exactly what she’s done to creatively pull as much out of the car as possible, is enough to put Keith solidly in Erica’s corner.
I knew he would be . . . eventually. I’m glad it’s not taking that long for him to support her.
After they’ve walked the whole car twice, with me standing by like a bump on a log, Ed says, “Come on, I’ll take you to Rix’s car.”
We get back in the truck and Keith is smiling like a kid in a candy store with instructions to buy anything he wants. “Damn, she’s good. I knew, but I didn’t know like that.”
There’s a new respect in his voice, one I hope Erica gets to hear for herself soon.
I stop the truck by Foxy and Keith blinks. “This is what she’s driving? It’s not the usual, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I used to have one of these.” He already sounds nostalgic, and I wonder how many memories he’s got in his old Mustang.
“You fell in love with Janice in it. I know. Erica told me.” He pries his eyes away to look at me. “She wanted to share this with you in the only way she thought she could.” I look back at the car, seeing Erica’s hard work, passion, and heart. “That’s why she has this model. Her whole life is built around you.”
“And you?” he asks directly.
“I fucking hope so, but who knows with that woman?” I can’t help the bark of laughter that comes out, but he doesn’t seem offended by me smack talking about his daughter. In fact, he laughs too. “She might kick me out tomorrow, but I think that’s part of the challenge.”
Keith wipes his eyes, which have teared up from seeing Foxy and from the laughter. “You’re not quite right, are you?
“You have no idea,” I say honestly. “But I love your daughter and that’s what matters.”
He nods, and I know I just passed another test. I might not know shit about engines, but I know people, and Keith Cole is a good man who wants to keep his family safe and happy.
It’s a good thing I want the same thing.
“Let me see what my girl’s car can do. I’ll meet you back at the shop?” He’s got the door open, one foot on the ground, ready to roll.
“You think you’re gonna beat me there?” I tease, knowing full well that this truck won’t beat Foxy, nor will I drive that fast. I’m not trained for those speeds the way Erica and Keith are.
“I damn well better or I’m gonna be disappointed in Rix.” We both know that’ll never happen.
“First one there has to hang out with all the women.”
He grins back. “Nah, first one there gets the first beer and first pick at that fried chicken your boss was promising when we left. Janice don’t let me have fried foods, says it’s bad for my cholesterol and feeds me grilled salmon. Do you know what I would do for a meal that consists of fried batter, greasy chicken, and potatoes?” He holds his chest dramatically.
“Then you go on and get first dibs. I eat like that every day.”
Keith’s smile, which had started to spread, falls. “I don’t think I like you.”
I hear the truth though.
He likes me a lot.
I like him too.
Chapter 28
Erica
“Pull that thing onto the lift so I can see what the hell went wrong,” I tell Reed. He backs the tow truck up, dropping the Challenger in the garage, then he and Manuel push it into place. I sit in my chair and direct them around, supervisory duty only for the sixth day in a row.
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They think I’m enjoying this. Truthfully, I’m going stark-raving mad. And bossing Dad around is weird even though he’s letting me run the shop my way and acting as my errand boy. Honestly, I think he’s a bit relieved to see how well we’re doing here without him. He built this shop from the ground up, and I know it was hard for him to retire, but I think going back to the track this week is going to help with that void.
I’m happy he’s involved with cars again. It’s like the light has turned back on inside him. He went for a beer with Ed last weekend, and one night this week, he pulled out a photo album of Big John, telling Mom, Emily, Brody, and me stories about him over dinner. It was the first time in years he’d even said John’s name.
And as much as I hate to admit it, and fuck, do I ever, I need his help right now because nothing is going to stop me from checking out Todd’s car. There’s always a risk with racing, and that’s amplified by using nitrous. But Todd’s a solid racer. I know the ins and outs of his car, and what happened should not have.
Once they get the Challenger locked in place and lifted, I roll my chair under it. Head craned back, I use Dad as my hands. “Pull that line.”
Dad preemptively knows what to do for the next thirty minutes as we look at various things that could’ve gone wrong. It’s when we pull the tank that I see the problem.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“What the hell, Todd?” I ask, even though he’s not here. “That’s it, Dad. Thanks.” I roll out from under the car, carefully setting the bottle on my desk. Staring at it, I try to think of any good reason it wouldn’t be what I put on the Challenger, but there’s only one. And it’s not a good one.
Dad perches on the edge of the desk, arms and ankles crossed the same way he has countless times before. Usually, it was because he was watching over me or Reed in the shop. Now, it’s because he’s watching to see how I’m going to handle this.
Rough Edge Page 28
