“She’s trying to make us a family again.”
My responding chuckle is sharp enough to sting. “Good luck with that.”
“You need to show her respect. I’m planning to marry that woman.”
“Yeah? You’re a lucky man.” She’s after his money, no doubt. Why else would a bombshell thirty-something go after a man in his late fifties? Digging for gold.
“I’m glad you can be bothered to notice. She’s making me a better man.” He puffs out his barrel chest, as if that’s going to impress me.
“Highly doubtful,” I mutter.
His nostrils flare wide, the vision of a teapot billowing steam. “Remember who you’re talking to, son.”
“Gonna put me in my place?” I haven’t been intimidated by him since I hit puberty, and he knows it.
“Are you trying to force my hand?” My father paces in the far stall. His stride is stiff with the beginning stages of arthritis and pent-up aggression. He’s smart to remain a safe distance away from Patch. I won’t call her off a second time.
“Nah, I think we’re done.” I add an extra grunt, turning my glare toward the kaleidoscope of colors blasting across the horizon. Nothing beats the sunset from up here. A selling point for this plot of land—in addition to being off the beaten path—is the unobstructed view to the west. If I squint hard enough, a faint outline from the distant Rockies can be seen.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“No?” I pick up an oil-drenched socket set and begin scrubbing at the grime. A slither of glee tickles my spine when he glowers at me.
“Is being a grease monkey all that you aspire to be?”
I shrug off his thinly-veiled disgust. Opening Iron Throttle is the best decision I’ve made by a long shot. This place has kept me out of more trouble than I can count. I created this company from nothing but a pile of dusty ground Silo Springs is known for. But this man will never accept my choice of profession. “I’m not going anywhere, least of all the corporate world.”
“Your brother wised up and left this line of work. I’m waiting for you to do the same.”
His mention of Grant is a purposeful blow. I almost stagger from the impact. Thinking about my brother in this context is the equivalent to drilling a hole through my heart. We were thick as thieves, quite literally, as kids and teens. He watched out for me when my self-preservation scraped bottom. I wasn’t ambitious enough to achieve more. Making friends and creating aspirations wasn’t something I forced myself into. Goals were a waste of effort. All that mattered was ditching the punishing dictatorship of my father. But Grant cared enough for both of us. Until the day it all crashed down.
After a near-fatal accident his senior year of high school, everything blew up in a pile of disintegrated dreams. Grant gave up his grease rag for a five-piece suit and dear old dad couldn’t be happier.
Fuck him for throwing that painful piece of history at me. I narrow my gaze, pinning him with the fire burning inside of me. “Heard from my mom lately?”
My father curls his hands into fists. “How dare you bring her up.”
That’s rich, coming from him. My mother is his biggest failure, and greatest point of weakness. Maybe the only one he’s somewhat willing to admit exists. I’d almost sympathize if he didn’t continue tossing Grant in my face. She’s the main reason his hate for me boils so hot. I rock back on my heels. “Seems only fair.”
“There’s zero comparison.”
He earns a low snort for that. “Mom cheated on you. Grant abandoned me. Pretty damn close, if you ask me.”
My dad points a blunt finger in my direction. “I sure as shit wasn’t looking for your opinion when I drove all the way to this sinkhole. You’re going nowhere fast, Crawford.”
A pit opens up in my gut, churning until acid burns my tongue. His words hit a bit too hard. “Because you’re a prime example of how to be? Stay at the office more nights than not. Never bothering to be present except for barking demands. It’s no wonder mom left you.”
His waxy skin explodes with a mottled red hue, exposing his rage with bursting capillaries. “Take a look in the fucking mirror, Crawford.”
“I’ve come to terms with my reflection. Not sure I can say the same for you.”
“Well, go fucking figure. Turning this back on me.”
I pat my chest. “Learned from the best, pops.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “We’re nothing alike. You’ve always been alone, son. No one wants to be around you. That’s why you built this tin shed on the edge of town.”
I stride backward, more than done with this conversation. “Thanks for the trip down memory lane. It’s much appreciated.”
My father begins following me. “This isn’t over.”
I grip onto the door leading to my office. The metal creaks under my unforgiving hold. “It most certainly is. Always a pleasure catching up with you, Dad. Feel free to fuck off and show yourself out.”
The resounding bang of the metal barrier now separating us is the most gratifying farewell this moment can offer.
Healing Hug #4: A saving grace reaching forward in the darkest moments.
A smooth beat croons through the speakers, singing about finding love after all else is lost. I tap my foot on the floorboard while humming along to the swoony tune. The chorus belts out a line about giving him a second glance. I almost roll my eyes at the irony. But hell, it’s a catchy song. Maybe Josey’s outrageous suggestion isn’t that farfetched.
Before I can give those thoughts more air time, a deafening pop bursts my serene bubble. The vehicle jolts and swerves at a sharp diagonal to the left. A yelp trips off my lips as warning sensors begin beeping at me. I clutch onto the wheel with a shaky grip, fighting to regain control while veering back into
