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Mom, who had been tearing up with her hands over her mouth, laughs as Brody finishes his speech. “Oh, Rix, honey . . . that’s all we want for you. For you to be happy with whoever you want, doing whatever you want.”
At least she has words because for the first time in my life, I think I’m stunned quiet. My eyes burn with unshed tears, ones I refuse to let fall right now, but I have never felt so understood. Brody gets me, all of me—the good, bad, and ugly parts, and he still loves me. Or maybe he even loves me because of the bad parts?
I would go to him if I could get off this damn couch, but he simply dips his chin. He knows. He understands. And we’re not finished with that conversation, but right now . . .
Dad grunts, not agreeing but not disagreeing with Mom either.
“Keith!” Mom scolds.
“She coulda died, Janice. You get that?” he yells, pointing at me. I won’t say my parents are perfect. They’ve fought over the years here and there, but never about me. Or at least if they did fight about me, it wasn’t in front of me.
Mom points at me too. “But she didn’t, did she? She could get hit by a bus walking to the store tomorrow.” She turns to me. “Sorry, honey. Just saying.” Back to my dad, she continues, “But you’re not locking her up in a bubble to keep her from getting groceries.”
He softens slightly at her words, and I wonder if Mom is going to do all my fighting for me. I hate to say it, but she’s doing a better job than I was, so maybe I’ll let her take the lead for a minute.
“How many smashed fingers did you have? How many close calls when something didn’t go right with the jack or the lift? It’s a physical job, Keith. And she can handle it because you taught her well, just like you taught her about racing. You think I was excited every time you roared down the track? No, I wasn’t, but I never once tried to stop you. It would’ve been pointless, and worse, it would’ve killed you to stop. It almost did.”
I jump in. “Everyone at the track misses you. They ask about you and talk about you like you’re this mythical god and I’m special because I’m your daughter. Well, it used to be because of that, but I’ve made a bit of a name for myself,” I brag boldly. “Because of what you taught me, RIX Customs are in high demand.”
Dad runs his hands through his hair several times and looks at the carburetor on the floor where he set it down and the other projects too. Slowly, his eyes drag up to mine and he sighs heavily, resigned to what’s right in front of him. I’m expecting more arguments, more orders, more . . . him. But somehow, we’ve reached his tipping point. “This is nothing like what I can do, honey. You’re . . . talented.”
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.
