I closed the hood with a solid thump, stepping back to admire my work for a moment before wiping my hands on a rag hanging from my pocket. Beth’s car was ready to go, better than ever.
I glanced at the basket of cookies sitting untouched on my workbench. For a split second, I considered taking one but shook off the thought quickly. No distractions.
Beth would be back soon to pick up her car, and I’d hand over her keys without looking too closely at her expression.
I turned away from the car, wiping my hands on a greasy rag, when the garage door creaked open. The smell of cold winter air mixed with the familiar scent of cigarettes filled the space. I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it, taking a long drag as I turned to see who’d come in.
My eyes narrowed when I saw him—Connor. He swaggered in like he owned the place, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a bar fight, with that perpetual scowl etched into his face and the way he carried himself like he had nothing to lose.
“Daryl,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t expect to find you buried under another heap of junk.”
I took another drag, letting the smoke curl around my face. “What do you want, Connor?”
He sauntered closer, eyes scanning the garage like it was beneath him. “Just checking up on my baby brother. Thought you might need some help since I'm back in this dead-end town.”
“Don’t need your help,” I bit out, flicking ash onto the concrete floor. “You got your own messes to deal with.”
He laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. “Still as bitter as ever, huh? Guess losing that chip off your shoulder didn’t lighten your mood.”
My grip tightened around the cigarette. “You don’t get to talk about him.”
“Why not?” He shrugged, completely unfazed by my anger. “We all lost something that day.”
I took a step closer, glaring at him. “You lost nothing. You left us to pick up the pieces while you ran off to who knows where.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking amused rather than offended. “Running off? More like finding better opportunities.”
I shook my head, disgust curling in my stomach. “You never cared about this family.”
Connor’s smirk widened. “Family? What family? It’s just you and me now.” He paused, glancing at Beth’s car behind me. “And looks like you’ve found yourself some new friends too.”
I ground my teeth together, resisting the urge to punch him square in the jaw.
He sauntered over to the corner of the garage where the Impala sat, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. I followed him, my cigarette burning down to a nub between my fingers.
"Just wanted to check up on my car, baby brother," he murmured.
"Your car?" I demanded, flicking the butt into an old coffee can. "You mean the one I've been fixing up for the last six months without your help?"
He ran a hand over the smooth hood, his eyes appraising the work I’d put in. “The one I won in a poker match,” he corrected, his tone dripping with arrogance.
The fucking nerve.
“Not bad, Daryl,” he continued, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the metal. “Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”
I clenched my jaw, suppressing the urge to throw him out of my garage. The Impala had been a labor of love and frustration, each part replaced and tuned with painstaking care. Connor’s careless attitude grated on me like nails on a chalkboard.
“Could’ve used a little more horsepower,” he said, peering under the hood I’d left open for inspection. “But then again, you always did play it safe.”
I bristled at his comment, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Safe? I’ve been busting my ass to get this thing running while you were off God knows where.”
He straightened up, looking unfazed. “Someone’s gotta keep things interesting around here.”
I snorted. “Interesting? You mean screwing up everything you touch?”
He chuckled, shaking his head as if I was a joke he’d heard one too many times. “Relax, little brother. Just checking up on my investment.”
“This isn’t an investment,” I shot back. “It’s a car. And it deserves better than you.”
