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The sight is almost too much for me to balance on this teetering farce. I gulp to trap the hiccupped sob ready to betray me.
After a single nod, Jake turns away. His retreating footsteps threaten to weaken my willpower. I want to chase him. Beg him to choose me. But that would be selfish. His path is heading in a different direction. One I can’t follow.
I can only watch him leave our love behind.
Itighten the final bolt on the Ford’s latest repair under its rusty hood. The wrench drops from my grip, landing in the box at my feet with a satisfying clank. That signals the end of a packed week at the garage.
A glance out the front window warns me that a celebration is premature. Snow is just beginning to fall. Streams of white flakes are visible in the glow of the nearest floodlight. It might be late February, but winter in Minnesota isn’t ready to quit. We’re predicted to get no less than six inches. And that’s not all.
After a day above freezing and the temperature plunging after dark, the roads are bound to be slick. Countless calls for a tow will begin soon after. Maybe Penn or Kade will join me for a few extra hours on the clock. But that’s a worry for later. First, I’m going to close up shop and take a load off at Roosters.
Several joints crack when I stretch my back. The persistent ache in my muscles makes me feel old and weary, yet I’m still two years short of thirty. It’s my spirit that’s tired—a fact that’s highlighted as I stare straight ahead at a night alone with nothing but an empty house to keep me company. I scoff at the downward direction of my thoughts. No sense in wallowing when there’s still work to be done.
I hop in the truck, slide the key into the ignition, and crank hard for good measure. Another job done right is revealed when the newly fixed engine roars to life without a single sputter. That smooth rumble is a mechanic’s greatest prize. It almost eases the strain in my shoulders until the tires spin on wet slush that’s already layering the lot. The reminder kicks me into higher gear.
Once I get the pickup parked out front, I jog to the lobby where the owner is waiting. The bell jingles to announce my entrance. A blast of heat welcomes me, chasing off the bitter chill. Pete is next to greet me with a sharp nod. I offer him one in return, brush the melting snow from my shirt, and switch off the neon sign that proclaims the shop is open.
He stands from his seat while I move to lock the door that connects to the shop. His hitched gait matches the deep wrinkles lining his face.
“How’s the new hip treating you?” I walk behind the desk, jutting my chin at his noticeable limp.
He leans heavily on the counter. “Better than the old one.”
“It’s good to see you upright again.”
“Bet it is. Must’ve been hard to get by without your best customer.”
I snort. “Sure was. Speaking of, here’s the recent damage.”
Pete barely spares a glance at the itemized invoice I set in front of him. “Appreciate you stayin’ late to fix her for me.”
“Got nowhere else to be.” Other than the bar, which is calling my name.
“Is Sydney with her mom this weekend?”
I glare at the old man who knows better than to ask. It’s not a secret I try to hide. The entire town is all too aware of the drama surrounding our dysfunctional family unit. News is bound to spread in a community the size of Knox Creek. Small population aside, Morgan Jones carries the reputation of being unreliable like a designer purse. Unfortunately, that toxic trait spills over to her involvement with our daughter.
Morgan is lacking at best where Sydney is concerned. The urge to spout uglier—though accurate—terms claws at my throat. Her presence in our little girl’s life has declined with each passing year. If it were my choice, I’d cut our losses and gain full custody. We’ll be signing the paperwork by summer if her flakey habits are any indicator. I doubt Morgan would hesitate to surrender her parental rights. Her last visit was over three months ago, for deadbeat’s sake. It’s gotten to the point where I assume she’s done with us.
If only it could be so simple.
Her extended absence suits me fine. But Sydney still asks about her. She loves her mother, as she should. Too bad Morgan has a shitty way of returning the affection. It almost pains me to think it’s because she doesn’t care. I just can’t fathom how else she could leave Syd behind, not to mention break every promise since.My hands curl into fists as I recall the crushing disappointment that crosses my little girl’s face too often.
The last time her mother didn’t follow through, I made a vow to protect Sydney from feeling abandoned. That’s why I don’t tell her Morgan is coming until I see the woman on my doorstep. Eventually, something has to give. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that isn’t Sydney. She’s sacrificed more than I care to admit. But I refuse to influence Syd’s opinion, regardless of the innate instinct that demands I should. It’s a battle I fight with each breath.
Rather than feed the hate festering in my gut, I gulp and give Pete curt honesty. “Syd is staying with a friend.”
“Glitzy too?”
My lips twitch at the mention of my daughter’s beloved Pomeranian. “Another question you don’t need to ask.”
“Doesn’t hurt to check on you.”
I grunt at the transparent excuse. “For no reason other than to satisfy your curiosity.”
The old man stoops lower, as if we aren’t alone in the small room. “Listen, kid. You’re the only one that sweet princess needs. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Warmth spreads through me at his high praise. I cough to cover the rising emotion. “Kissing my ass after trying to dig for dirt?”
