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“And you're a hypocrite.”
“Never said I wasn't.” He shrugs with an arrogant, shit-eating grin. “So, what's got you all cantankerous and shit?”
“Cantankerous?” I can't help the amused cock of my eyebrows.
“My mee-maw got meword-of-the-daytoilet paper for Christmas,” he explains, taking a long drag on his cigarette. Mine hangs limply in my hand. “It's been...illuminatin’.”
I shake my head with a short laugh. Brody’s never been the sharpest tool in the shed, but the stupid bastard always manages to make me laugh no matter how much of a shit mood I'm in. It's probably why I keep him around. That and he's a damn good mechanic.
“It's your girl, ain't it?” he says. “Maw said you left her in New York after all the media bullshit. That true, boss? Was it like payback or somethin' for her skipping out on you to get famous?”
Hismee-mawjust so happens to be the town's most notorious shit-stirrer, Mrs. Patchouli.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warn him, taking my first hit of my smoke. “Your mee-maw needs to stop stickin’ her nose where it doesn't belong.”
He chuckles, not the least bit put out by the bite in my tone. “Hey, man, we've been telling her for years to cut out the gossipin’, but she won't have it. You know what she's like.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another pull at my smoke before flicking it away. “Well, that ain't what happened. Thea has to stay out there for a few more days to shoot a commercial or something before she comes home, and I flew back to try and work out what the fuck to do about old Stan Garrison's car. That pile of shit has been collecting dust in the shop for over a month now.”
“No one told you?” he says, watching me from the corner of his eye as he takes out a second smoke and lights it up. “We fixed it while you were gone. He's coming by to pick it up.” He checks the time on his phone. “Any time now.”
“What?” I blink in confusion. “How'd that happen?”
He shrugs. “Someone paid it off for him.”
“Who?”
Brody shifts awkwardly, eyes abandoning mine to study the dirt on his shoes.
“What aren't you telling me?”
“Nothing, boss.” But he's still not making eye contact.
“Do you think I'm an idiot?” I stand, whirling on him with a face like thunder. “Who the fuck paid it off?”
“I’m not supposed to say.” His face creases in confliction. “She didn't want you to know.”
“God fucking damnit,” I curse as realization creeps in, stirring indiscernible feelings in my gut. “It was Thea, wasn’t it?”
Slowly, reluctantly, Brody nods. “She came into the shop just before you left, paid enough that we could fix it up all nice for him and do the best job we could do, ya know? She was real sweet, boss. Looked hot as fuck too. Can see why you like her.”
“Jesus Christ.” I swipe a hand down my face and resist the urge to hit him for the last bit.
“She didn't stop there either. I heard she covered the cost of his daughter's cancer treatment so Stan can finally retire. It gives her an actual chance of surviving it now, rather than just managing it or whatever. Doctors say she'll be in remission—is that what it’s called?—by the end of the year 'cause of what Thea's done. How fucking amazing is that?”
But I can't answer him.
I'm speechless.
Because what Thea's done is more than amazing. It's unthinkably generous.
Even the couple of grand needed to cover the cost of Stan's car repairs would have been altruistic enough, but to cover his daughter's medical bills? Something I know Stanley was busting his ass to do while barely making a dent in it at all. I mean, the old bastard can barely walk and he's been pulling graveyard shifts at the gas station most nights, trying to keep his daughter alive.
Thea's done more than just fix his car.
She's made it possible for Stan to finally retire, all while giving his daughter the best possible shot at life.
Fuck me. My girl is something else.
