She was wrong. She was so very wrong. Because of my egocentric trip, believing beating the jury was better than incarcerating the truly evil guy, Andrew nearly lost Trish. I didn’t think I’d ever forgive myself for that level of vainglory. So, Trish was wrong.
“Yeah, I do.”
Chapter Five
Marlow
Why was I listening to that ass?
For the second day in a row, I pulled on the old metal door to Holt’s garage. He paused mid-sentence when I pushed Blake’s stroller toward him.
“Let’s make sure the framing on the lift is sound.”
The man he spoke to took off toward the open area where cars would be worked on.
“I didn’t bring a mop, but this place looks like it could use a good cleaning.” I glanced around what I assumed would be the reception area.
“You’re in luck. I’ve got one. And the perfect spot to start.”
My lips parted slightly. After last night, that was it? No ass chewing?
“Lead the way.”
He didn’t move. “Should Blake be here? With the noise and dust?”
“I told you we were a package deal.” I lifted my chin.
“I was going to wait on this, but you can start in the office. We’re not going to remodel that right now and it could stand to be cleaned.”
I followed him behind the large desk and peered into the indicated space. Yuck. “How long has this place been vacant?” I dragged my finger through layer upon layer of dust along the windowsill.
“No idea. Long time from what I’ve found.” He pulled a chair out from behind the desk that looked like a family of rats had gotten the best of it. I shuddered. “Once the guys finish upstairs, I want to get Baker’s space up and running.”
“Shouldn’t you do the garage first? That’s what will pay the bills.”
Holt clenched his jaw. “She thinks the same thing. I want to surprise her.”
“Whatever. Show me the supplies.”
I hate you, Patrick Whitley. I hate you, Patrick Whitley.
I swiped a loose strand of hair from my face with my forearm. An hour into scrubbing the walls, I prayed that bastard would come by so I could rip him a new one. This was the worst idea ever. Holt wasn’t going to forgive me just because I cleaned his office.
I threw the soiled cloth on the floor. What was I doing here? I hadn’t seen my brother since he’d left me to it, let alone heard him say thanks.
“Thirsty?”
My father stood in the doorway, holding up a bottle of water.
“Thanks.” I swiped it from his hands and turned off “I Ain’t The Same” by Alabama Shakes I’d been listening to.
“Want me to take the little man for a while?”
“Did Holt call you?”
“You could have.”
“Let’s not pretend everything is normal.” I leaned against the wall I hadn’t cleaned yet, not caring how dirty it was.
“I wasn’t.” Ella screamed, and I cringed. Dad tickled her tummy before he continued. “I’m not pleased by your behavior, but I would never allow that to get in the way of my grandson.”
He picked Blake up from his carrier and kissed his forehead. My son wasn’t very old, only fourteen months, but he’d missed Dad too. I was so lucky my father was involved in Blake’s life. It was something I took for granted at times, but was always grateful for. Everyone didn’t have a dad like I did.
“If you want to keep him, fine. I’ll be here all day,” I said with an air of indifference.
“Want to go see Aunty Trish?” Dad asked in a baby voice.
“How!”
My father beamed. “I’m excited to see her too.”
Guilt assaulted me. I’d taken this away from both of them. They were best buddies, all three of them.
We were stuck in this cycle where he was upset with me for something I didn’t do. Which pissed me off. None of my family believed I hadn’t told my mother the details of Andrew’s wedding. I didn’t remember mentioning it was in Wyoming, but I couldn’t say for certain.
I knew how my brother felt about her. He’d never want her around for the most monumental event of his life. Sure, I was an insensitive bitch, but even I drew the line at that.
I glanced at the grime-coated window to the reception area. My father was the most decent person I knew. Yet I’d believed his feelings about my mother were tainted because of what had happened between them. He’d been right all along.
“Dad. You made it.” Holt slapped him on the shoulder.
“I’ve got my hands full, but we’re making progress on quotes for the signs.”
“Ella working her magic?”
“She is.”
Blake reached out for Ella. She swatted at his hand before attempting to grab it.
“You’re doomed, buddy,” my brother said, ruffling Blake’s hair.
“We’re headed over to the food truck. Thought we’d bring you back some lunch.”
“Sounds good.” Holt made a face at Ella, who shrieked.
“Baker coming by?”
He checked his phone. “Haven’t heard from her yet. If you don’t mind, bring her something. Either she can eat it or I will.”
“What would you like, sweetheart?”
The endearment twisted my heart. “I’m good, Daddy.”
Creases formed on his forehead, but he quickly smoothed his features. “Don’t be silly. If you don’t decide, I’ll surprise you.”
“What’s good?”
“Everything.” He settled Blake next to Ella in the double stroller. “I’ll get a couple of things and you can pick.”
I was an eight-year-old again, my dad knowing just how to handle my surly nature. How often had I marveled at my dad for how much he gave to his grandson? He knew what single parenting was like. Hell, there had been three kids under eight and he became mother, father, provider . . . all on his own. He taught me about unconditional love. He still did.
Dropping to a squat, I brushed Blake’s cheek. “Mommy loves you.”
“How!”
I narrowly avoided a toddler strength punch to the face. Holt snickered, abruptly stopping when I cut my eyes to him.
As soon as they were gone, a silence enveloped Holt and
