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“So, did you get me a gift too?” He bats his eyes at me.
I do laugh at that, and wink cheekily at the kid. “That would be telling. You’ll have to wait until Christmas to know for sure.”
“Boo. Pop says we can’t open presents until we get home from Grandma’s house.”
“I’m sure it will be worth the wait.”
“I guess.”
Traffic creeps ahead and I’m in the drop-off zone as the school bell rings. Finally.
“Have a great holiday, Owen. Tell your pop I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”
“Okay. Thanks for the snacks, Uncle Saint.” Owen gathers up his schoolbag, lunch box, and the bags with the snacks we picked for his class.
“Any time, kiddo.”
I wait until he’s inside the fence, chattering excitedly to a kid in a floppy santa hat before inching back into traffic. I catch Owen pointing at my car. The two boys wave. I raise my hand in acknowledgement before making my way toward my office, head still reeling from a conversation with a kid. That puts into perspective just how big of a raging inferno I’ve been playing with by falling for Angel these past couple of years. Is it any wonder I’m feeling the heat under Owen’s scrutiny?
When this thing between Angel and me was nothing but casual post-divorce rebound sex, that was one thing. But we’re actual friends now. My typical reservations about what we’ve been doing now reach beyond being aro and moderating expectations and into whether I’m cut out to be a parental figure. That was never something I saw in my cards.
I care about Angel. Enough to let them go so they can find someone who treats them like the treasure they are. Someone who can field Owen’s incisive questions and promise to always put him and his pop and sister first. My chest squeezes too tight as I accept that fact. It might crush my heart into a pulverized pulp to end things with Angel, but that someone isn’t me.
Chapter 12
Angel (December 22nd, 2023)
Ishiverintheparking lot after my breakfast shift as I watch my brother poke at my car’s guts. After practically a lifetime working on the family farm, Marcus knows how to keep any vehicle running. I trust his mechanical expertise. My heart sinks when he slams the hood shut with a grim frown on his face. He scrubs his hands on an old rag that he tucks into his back pocket and shakes his head.
“Sorry, Angel, it’s going to need a new engine, this one is cracked and I’m pretty sure the catalytic converter is on its way out too. It would cost more in new parts than we could get selling it for scrap.”
“Fuck.” I tug at my hair, trying to estimate how much this is going to cost me.
I’ve known my vehicle was on its last legs for years, but did the damn thing really have to die days before Christmas? My boss might have been understanding last night, but he won’t let me leave the car here indefinitely. A tow is going to cost me dearly. Besides, I don’t know where to store it when our building’s lot has a strict snow removal schedule, so it can’t sit there forever either.
Let alone, how do I even begin going about getting rid of the thing? I kick the damn car’s tire, taking out all the anger and frustration that I can’t ever seem to get ahead, even a little, no matter how hard I try. The surge of adrenaline makes me just want to keep kicking until something breaks.
Marcus puts his hands on my shoulders and squeezes. I tense at first, but then relax into his touch when he starts shushing me.
“Hey, it’s alright, little si—sibling.” He stutters over what to call me, but corrects himself mid-syllable, and I can tell he’s trying. I’m just thankful he’s here with me. Making the effort to connect as he rocks me from side to side. “I can help get it hauled out of here and make the arrangements to sell it. I can even hook you up with one of the old trucks from the farm.”
Arms crossed over my chest, I spin to glare at my brother. “I’m not accepting a new car from you.”
Marcus snorts. “Fine, it’s a truck, and it’s far from new. But listen, Gail and I have been talking, and I owe you a proper apology. When I graduated from high school, our folks helped me with school and gave me the Tahoe to drive there. When you graduated…”
“They kicked me out.”
“Yeah.” Marcus runs an engine-grease stained hand through hair and blows out a noisy breath. “Exactly. It was wrong, but I couldn’t afford to pay your tuition or give you a car back then. So I thought it wasn’t my fault, but now that I’m in a position to help you, I want to pass along something. And I didn’t want to say anything at the time, because I didn’t want to rub salt in the wounds. It wasn’t in my control to change anything. Our folks put the money from Gran’s inheritance into a trust for when I had a kid. They want us to use it to start a university fund, but Gail and I have full financial discretion once we get access to the trust. So when Trace is born, we’ll be coming into some money. Gail and I want to split it with you. Half and half.”
I stare at my brother in mute incomprehension. I don’t know what to say. Gran was in a nursing home recovering from a stroke when my folks cut me out. Since they had control of her visitors, they cut me off from her too. She died of a second stroke before Meg was born. I never expected so much as a photograph from her after how that all went down. I was just glad Marcus got me her fudge recipe.
“Say something?” Marcus is staring at me and I can’t deal with the remembered grief and anger at being denied a final goodbye.
“Why?”
“Because Gran loved you. She’d have wanted you to have something of hers. Because it’s the right thing to do and she would have adored your kids?”
“No. Not that. Why are you suddenly so invested in making shit up to me, Marcus?”
