Headlights, Dipsticks, & My Ex's Brother

by Heather Novak

  “Missed you too, Reeses. I would’ve come back sooner if I’d known.”

  I shrugged. “And done what?”

  “Something. Anything.”

  He released my hand and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. It was everything I needed. It had been so long since a man had held me like this. The butterflies in my stomach started swarming. This is just a platonic hug, I told them. It’s Luke.

  But maybe that was the problem.

  It was Luke.

  It was the boy who’d worked with Grandpa and me under the hood while Will worked with his dad in the office. It was the teenager who’d punched Justin Kenzer in the face for making fun of me in fourth grade. It was the guy in his midtwenties who’d called in every favor to get permission to take me to my senior prom while home on leave from the Marines when my high school boyfriend dumped me just two days before. It was the man who took a red-eye to be by my side for a few hours at Grandpa’s funeral.

  Realization washed over me, and I jerked upright, turning to stare at him, wide-eyed. My breath quickened as I took him in: his mussed, oil-dark hair, his light olive skin, his thick eyelashes, and his soft, bowed lips.

  He smirked and raised his eyebrows. “What’s that look for?”

  Just coming to the realization that I may have a few non-platonic feelings for you. “I—uh…just…” Oh, this was bad. So very, very bad. I could not like Luke.

  “Yeah, sounds about right.” He leaned forward, and I scooted back against the door so fast my elbow hit the window crank. I hissed and wrapped my hand around my traitorous limb. He laughed and grabbed my knee, pulling me toward him. “Hey, what’s going on? You know you can talk to me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said before my brain caught up with my mouth. I really needed to fix whatever misfire was going on there. I blamed it on that clean, masculine scent hanging between us. Oh God, I’d forgotten how good a handsome man could smell. It was like a drug. I took a deep breath through my nose, getting high off an evergreen, citrus, campfire combination.

  He smiled, and I just stared. I wanted to keep that smile in my pocket and pull it out whenever I was lonely. I wanted to savor a sweet mouthful of it whenever life got too sour.

  Whoa, Edie. Calm down. He’s just Luke. But it was like a glass barrier had shattered. He was no longer just anything. And my fuzzy head wasn’t working fast enough at putting the barrier back in place.

  “You’re having an infamous freak-out right now.” He sighed. “I can hear it in your silence. Reeses, come on. Talk to me.”

  I didn’t say a word. Instead, I did just about the stupidest thing I could think of.

  I leaned forward and kissed my ex-fiancé’s older brother.

  Chapter Three

  Edie’s Tip #15: Getting your oil changed is like changing your car’s diaper. If you wait too long, crap will go everywhere.

  His lips were soft and warm, and the moment they touched mine, my entire body came to life. I was kissing Luke. I WAS KISSING LUKE?! This was not how I’d expected this night to turn out.

  My lips moved against his top lip, then his bottom one. The rough scrape of his stubble made my stomach somersault. Choirs sang a hallelujah chorus in my head. My heart did a tap dance. I was drowning in him, his scent, his heat. It was like a movie moment I wanted to replay over and over again.

  Until suddenly, a very important realization pushed its way through the chaos and I froze.

  Luke wasn’t kissing me back.

  I pulled back, covering my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry. It was just the alcohol—”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “It’s just not a good—”

  “Idea, I know. You’re going to be my step-uncle after all.” I swear I vomited a little in my mouth.

  He groaned. “Oh God, never call me that again.” He gently clasped my wrists and pulled my hands away from my face. “Edith, look at me.”

  I kept my eyes squeezed tight. “Nope, because I just made this super awkward and weird and this night is already really terrible so I’d just rather pretend that none of this ever happened, okay?” I was rambling.

  He hesitated, as if he was going to say something else, but then released my hands. He cleared his throat. “Whole thing’s forgotten.”

  Was it just me or did he sound a little...sad? That’s it. I was never drinking again.

  A knock on Luke’s window made me scream, and like the graceful, delicate lady I was, I flailed. My hand hit Luke’s nose, my elbow jabbed the steering wheel, my foot whacked the door panel, and my bracelet got tangled in my hair. Because this was the night that just kept on giving.

  With Luke’s help, which of course required him to lean over me and made my punch-drunk heart flip out again, I was freed. I finally scrambled out of the car only to come face-to-face with a very pissed-off Jami.

  My brother’s glacial glare made me cringe. He was all soft brown curls and brown eyes, but he could go from teddy bear to ice queen in two point five seconds. “I’ve been calling and texting to make sure you’re okay. You just took off and didn’t let me know that you got home.”

  I raised my arms in a “look, I’m all in one piece” motion. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

  “Clearly.”

  The other car door opened and Luke stepped out, his lips in a tight smile. “Jami, it’s good to see you again.” He reached out his left hand and Jami shook it quickly.

  “Luke.” Jami’s tone was lined with frost.

  “What is your problem, J? I’m fine. Luke blew a tire and came by the shop. I left my cell in the office, I’m sorry.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you tell her why you’re here?” he asked Luke.

  “Not your business, James Joseph,” I countered. “Leave him alone.”

  “Save it, Edith Doreen.”

  We stood there with our arms crossed, fuming. I could practically see the little hand-drawn comic strip swirl above my brother’s head.

  “Jami’s right,” Luke said. “I know you wanted me to wait until tomorrow, but I should’ve insisted. Especially considering the circumstances.”

  This day was turning out to be really, really shitty. I rubbed my forehead and shook my head. “Just tell me.”

  He ran his hand down his face and held his palm to his jaw, clearly uncomfortable. “The shop is no longer split between you, me, and Will at thirty-three percent each.”

  I stared at him, blinking. My chest burned with anxiety, or maybe just heartburn from all the alcohol. Either way, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like where this was going.

  “Two years ago, after Dad got sick and the three of us inherited the shop, I bought twenty-seven percent of Will’s shares. He still has a few shares left, but I am currently the majority shareholder at sixty percent.”

  My mouth fell open. “Wait, what?!” I took a step back into Jami, whose hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me.

  “Legally, we didn’t have to tell you, but he should have. He had invested everything into his real estate business and he needed the money to buy an engagement ring and pay for the wedding. He wanted it to be a surprise. I had the cash, so I agreed. I assumed he’d discussed this with you after the proposal.”

  I covered my mouth. This was too much for my brain to handle. My ex had definitely never told me any of this. I shook my head to clear it. “Okay, so, what else?”

  “I’m back because I’m selling all of my shares. I need the cash and it can’t wait.” With his admission, something dark passed over his expression. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow before his eyes met mine. The desperation in them probably matched my own.

  “Who are you selling to?” I whispered.

  “To your mom.”

  I swayed on my feet, grabbing Jami’s shoulder for balance. “You what?”

  Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. “Figured it was best to keep the shop in the family. Will told me he didn
’t have the liquid cash, but Cynthia did. I didn’t know...”

  “She’ll be the majority holder,” I said. It wasn’t a question. “Which means my mother will have her dream—control of the shop.” And there it was, the one thing that could possibly break me.

  Mom hated the shop. Some of my oldest memories were of her storming into my grandparents’ house and absolutely losing her shit when she saw grease on my hands. Over the years, her temper had grown quieter, although just as cruel, and her hate for the shop had never ebbed. A hate that no one knew outside of the family, not even Luke. My mother was good at showing people what she wanted them to see.

  Jami put his arm around my back, supporting me. “Edie, it’s not just the shop. It’s the land too.” Sometimes I hated having an attorney for a brother.

  Luke ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I know you and Cynthia don’t have the best relationship, but it was her dad’s shop and now she’ll get to share it with you. Maybe it will help you two grow closer together.”

  No. It wouldn’t. But how would Luke know? He hadn’t been back for longer than a few days in years. “You’ve always loved the shop more than you love me!” she had screamed at Grandpa, and then me, time and time again. “You save all your love for stupid cars!”

  I sagged in defeat. “How long have you known?” I asked, looking up into the face that so closely mirrored my own.

  “About a week,” Jami admitted. “You were busy with the wedding and I decided to wait to tell you.”

  Somehow, I managed to nod, as though I understood. “When?”

  “I’m here for about three weeks,” Luke replied.

  I turned to look at my brother. “And he can sell even if I don’t agree?”

  Jami leaned his head against mine. “Decisions for the shop will be determined by the majority, at sixty percent or above. So yes, he can legally sell the shop. Your choice is whether to sell your shares or stay on with the new owner.”

  I put my face in my hands. “I think I’m going to be sick.” I was going to lose my shop and my home with a few signatures on a piece of paper.

  Luke sighed. “Listen, to me, the shop is yours. It’s always been yours and it should’ve always been only yours. I just need the money, and it’s all I’ve got left to sell that’s worth anything.”

  “To my mom.”

  “The agreement with Cynthia is verbal only. I haven’t signed the contract. If you can earn the money or if we can find another buyer, I’ll sign it over.”

  “How much?” I looked at him through my fingers.

  “One hundred seventy-five thousand. But I’ll negotiate down to one fifty, if you can do it.”

  I laughed, but it came out more like a strangled sob. “And there’re no other options?” I looked at my brother.

  Jami shook his head.

  “I...I...” My head started pounding as if I had a rubber band winding tighter and tighter over my eyes. “And no one told me?”

  Jami shook his head. “I wasn’t the one who did the transfer.”

  I could feel Luke’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Instead, I looked at my Camaro, wishing I could crawl back inside of her and make this all go away.

  “Luke, I’ll come back and help you change that tire.” Jami grabbed my arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” I stumbled forward but allowed him to lead me away.

  Luke stepped toward me and I flinched. He raised his hands up in surrender. “Reeses, it’s good to see you, despite the circumstances. Jami, thanks for your help.”

  I let my brother tug me out of the shop and up the walkway to my house. It was maybe half an acre at most, but tonight it was like miles. Thick silence stretched between us until we reached my front door. Jami pulled out his keys and we didn’t speak, just hugged for a long moment before he kissed the top of my head and gently shoved me inside.

  I closed the large hand-carved oak door behind him—a wedding present from Grandpa to my grandma—and leaned against it before locking the deadbolt. Usually, I loved coming home to this house that held so many amazing memories. Tonight, every inch of it mocked me.

  My stomach rolled and this time I didn’t fight it. I sprinted to the downstairs powder room and emptied my stomach contents over and over again. Alcohol definitely burned coming back up.

  I fell asleep with my head on my knees, sitting on the bathroom floor.

  “I’m dyyyying,” I lamented as I fell down in the chair in front of my shared desk. The door to the tiny office couldn’t keep out the clanging and slamming of oil changes, new brakes, and alignments filling up the bays. Gasoline and oil fumes clung to me, making my head swim. But it was a Saturday and we actually had business, so I couldn’t be too mad.

  Tamicka, my bookkeeper and office manager, looked at me over her rimless reading glasses, judging. “Well, you aren’t going to feel better in here.”

  I lifted my head just enough to stare at her across the desk, where she was loudly typing numbers into a spreadsheet. She was nearly ten years older than me, though her flawless deep brown skin made her look like she was still in her twenties. She was crazy smart, always read a dirty book at lunch, and obsessively loved Christmas all year round. She’d been my first hire after Will had vanished, and was the best life choice I had ever made.

  “I nicknamed you T-Money because you somehow always find me the money to stay in business. Don’t fail me now. I’ll rename you T-Broke.” I groaned and lowered my head back on my arms. “Never mind, that was terrible.”

  She sighed and took off her glasses, folding them carefully and setting them on the desk before picking up her pen topped with a Christmas tree. “We need to start making triple our income pretty much immediately. We’re operating in the black, but just barely. We’re down fourteen percent from last year alone.” She looked up at me. “You should’ve hired me sooner.”

  “Truth,” I said. “Create a buy three oil changes, get one free package. Must buy by next week. Email our entire database.”

  She made a note on the legal pad next to her. “Buy new brakes for one car, get half off a second car?”

  “I’m not made of money.”

  “Most people have two cars. Even if they don’t need brakes yet, they may jump on it. I’m a genius.”

  I grunted my agreement. “That’s why I pay you the medium bucks. So how many of these will we need to sell to make one hundred fifty thousand?”

  The chair creaked as she shifted. “It’ll help. But...”

  “T-Money, come on. Give me something.”

  She covered the top of my hand with hers. “The liquid cash isn’t there. We just had to replace the parking lot after that shit winter. And the lift in bay two. Not to mention the new fridge in the break room, and the plumbing issue—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  “What about your inheritance?”

  I shrugged, then regretted it. Everything hurt. “I have a few thousand. I used a good chunk when we needed to repair the roof.” And even more to pay my staff when we had leaner months.

  She squeezed my hand. “Save it. You’ll need it and it’s not really going to make a dent. You need to get to the bank next week. See if you can get a small business loan.”

  I pushed myself upright and rubbed my hands over my face and over my sloppy ponytail, sighing. “Okay, I’ll make an appointment on Monday.”

  I pressed on the center of my forehead, trying to stop the throbbing. Maybe I should just go back to bed. A knock at the door made my stomach gurgle and I groaned a response. My head mechanic, Chieka, walked in and clucked. “Why are you here?”

  “Because I'm clearly insane. What do you need?” She walked behind me and started rubbing my shoulders. I tipped my head back and glared, not fooled by her decoy. “See, you’re standing there looking like a nice and well-adjusted person and we both know that is a load of bullshit. That’s your revenge smile.”

  She smiled wider. I knew, just knew, she was reveling in some karmic a
ction. “Tell me someone dropped a piano on my ex’s head?!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Girl, no. Settle. Rich Grouchen is here claiming his engine is fried because you sold him faulty tires last week.”

  “Why is this good news?” I whined, rubbing my head again. “Tires can’t fry an engine. He’s delusional.”

  She winked at me. “Because we have a paper trail of reminder calls and a waiver from his last visit saying he declined an oil change even though he was well overdue.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Twenty-five thousand miles overdue.”

  My mouth fell open. Pretty sure my eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Maybe that was just the hangover. “You’re kidding me.”

  She laughed, low and evil. “It’s just so beautiful.” She mimed wiping a tear away.

  “Maybe he shouldn’t have replaced his oil change reminder with his MAGA sticker,” Tamicka muttered.

  I laughed, then groaned. “Ow. It hurts. But it’s worth it.”

  “Damn right it is,” Chieka said. “Now come on. He wants to talk to the owner.”

  Tamicka stood up and rounded the desk. “I brought popcorn,” she teased. “I’m not missing this!”

  Chieka pulled me out of the chair. She was Japanese American, five inches shorter than me, and all muscle. Her dark, thick hair was in a long braid, the end of which she tugged on in excitement. She had a twisted sense of humor and I loved it.

  Chieka wrapped her arms around my middle and gave me a quick hug. She was frowning when she stepped back. “First off, I can smell the alcohol on you. Second, your hair.” She reached up and tugged a few strands back and forth before giving up. “I can’t help you. Just go be a badass.” She pulled a hairclip from her pocket and secured her braid in a bun at the nap of her neck, ready for battle.

  “Aye, aye, captain.” With a deep breath, I followed her out and into the foyer where Rich waited.

  Grenadine, Michigan was only an hour northwest of Detroit, but I swear some days it was a different planet. Rich was a Grenadine-born-and-bred local who had the social skills of a robot. Will had always worked with him in the past, but without my ex, Rich was forced to talk to me and Chieka.