Page 2

Tennessee

Red leans against the doorframe with a toothpick waggling between his teeth like he’s got something to say.

He’s always had that look that’s half amused, half ready to burn the place down just for fun.

His cut’s more worn than mine, patches barely clinging on, and grease stains that’ve been there longer than the chip on his shoulder.

“Still babysitting that hunk of junk?” he nods toward the bike I’ve been working on like it’s personally offended him.

I grunt, not bothering to look up. “You finish your work? There’s plenty to do around here.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, like gravel under tires. “Shit, I just finished two bikes last week. You’ve gotta catch up.”

Red’s one of the last real ones. We’ve seen hell together. Miles of bad roads, bar fights, cold nights under open skies. He’s the kind of guy who’ll bleed with you, laugh at your pain, and still knock back a beer like he’s got nowhere to be in the morning.

I finally sit back, wiping sweat from my brow with the same rag I used on the engine. “You here to help, or just stand there looking pretty?”

Red smirks. “I came to hear about your date with the girl in town. The guys won’t shut up about it. A little young for you, ain’t she?”

I roll my eyes and lean back into the bike, twisting the wrench harder around the rusted bolt above the exhaust pipe. “It’s not a date. She needs an assistant for the wedding she’s putting on. No big deal. I need some goodwill, anyway.”

He leans against the doorframe as he fiddles with the toothpick in his mouth. One of these days, he’s gonna choke on that thing. “I heard through the vine you went down there. Almost like you were lookin’ for trouble. Girl that age, you’d have to be.”

I blow out a sigh and narrow my gaze toward him for a moment before redirecting to the stuck bolt in front of me.

“I owe a buddy a favor, and you know I hate letting that shit sit. That’s all.

Besides, she doesn’t want a date anymore.

She wants an assistant. I guess everything has gone to hell with some wedding she’s planning for her cousin. It’s no big deal.”

“Right, so she’s not pretty?”

“What?”

“Dude, you’re here alone all the time. I’ve seen you struggling since we got out here.”

“I’m not alone. You’re standing right there, annoying the shit out of me day after day.”

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth, holds up his palms, and settles onto a workbench, thumbing through a pack of smokes without lighting one. He knows better than to push too hard. That fucker also knows when there are cracks in my story.

I grab a stool, flip it around backward, and drop down onto it, wiping my hands on that same damn rag. “You ever wonder what we’re doing out here?” I ask, not looking at him.

Red lifts a brow. “We’re fixin’ bikes.”

“Not what I’m asking. After everything we’ve seen and done, do you think we’ll ever balance the scales?”

He doesn’t answer right away, which is how I know he understands what I’m saying.

I sigh. “We’re far from virtuous, and I wonder when I reach my maker, how will I be judged?”

“You were a medic in the desert, fighting for a just cause,” Red says softly. “Depends on who you’re judged by, but in my book, you were righteous. If you’re not, then none of us are.”

I nod, jaw clenched. “Guess so. I’m preaching to you guys about how we all need to move on while I’m still sitting here all fucked in the head.” I glance at the bike, half-finished like everything else I start these days. “I just… don’t know who I should become with what’s left of my life.”

Red stands and lands a hand on my shoulder. “Then it makes sense that you’ve decided to take up wedding planning. Nothing helps embrace godliness like a choice between eucalyptus or baby’s breath. You’ll be fitted for wings in no time, man. Lord knows it’s not about anything else.”

“It’s not about the girl, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, so it really is about the love of signature cocktails?” He laughs. “Just admit you like a girl who’s way too fuckin’ young for you, we’ll all laugh, then support you like we have the rest of the idiots around here.”

I stare down at my oil-stained hands and let his words sink in. Considering I jerked off to thoughts of her in her pretty pink dress the second I got home, Red isn’t completely off base.

That said, she really is too young. Too young, too damn put together, too sweet. A guy like me would ruin someone perfect like that.

I drag in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Suppose I don’t belong at this wedding thing either, but it’ll get me out of my head for a few days, and outta this shop. I need a change of scenery.”

Red leans his elbows forward on his knees before scrubbing his hand over his face as his gaze drifts off. “I ever tell you about this gas station out in Amarillo?”

I narrow my brows. “Amarillo? No, why?”

He leans back, stretching out his legs. “When I was seventeen, I ran with this crew that thought stealing gas and raising hell was purpose. You know where I came from, so I was broke, stupid, and filled with piss and vinegar, like the other assholes I was with. One night, we were at the usual station, stealing gas. My only job was to drive. Got cocky, ran in for beers.”

He pauses and narrows his gaze like he’s back in that moment.

“Sirens started blaring, the crew took off, and I ran. I got clipped by a truck off the west side of the interstate and spent two months in the hospital with a busted leg and a nurse who damn near adopted me.” He laughs under his breath.

“I realized that night I was just another hothead with a record. A disposable piece of shit.”

“Uplifting,” I laugh.

“That nurse gave me a job sweeping floors in the hospital when I got better. Wasn’t nothing great, but she told me every day that I didn’t have to be who they all said I was.

” He laughs as he says, “That’s when I joined the military.

It felt honorable, like I was really doin’ something with my life.

” He lets out a sigh and shakes his head as though he’s getting lost in his own story.

“I’m trying to say a change of scenery will be good for you, and maybe that young girl, who you shouldn’t be talking to, sees somethin’ in you that you forgot was in there. ”

I shake my head and stand from the bench. “Look at you, out here reciting poetry. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

“That’s the perfect quote for the end of your stanza.

It has such a good ring to it… fuckin’ idiot, ” I snap sarcastically, uncomfortable with the show of emotion between us, though thankful for the conversation.

I’ve known Red for the better part of my life, and I’ve never heard him talk like this.

Maybe we’re all getting soft in our old age.

“I’m usually the one giving out advice. You’re usually handing out beers. I appreciate it, man.”

“Speakin’ of,” he stands and pulls open the door to the fridge that sits in the garage, “you need a cold one?”

I laugh. “Yeah, wouldn’t hurt.”

He hands a long neck bottle toward me. “I gotta say, I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Watching the guys run off with those girls, starting these meaningful lives … I never thought I wanted that. I figure you always did, though.”

“Fuck yeah.” I lower my head, staring at the old boots I’ve been meaning to replace for years now.

“I thought that was part of the plan a long while back.” I lean against the toolbox and take a sip of the beer.

“I’m nearly fifty, man. I thought I’d have a couple of kids in college by now, a woman next to me to take care of…

I don’t know where life fuckin’ goes. One day I’m twenty-five, out in the field, trying to save the world, and the next my knees are locking up and my back is aching.

My body’s tired, man. Head’s not far behind.

” I take another sip of beer. “What about you? I never hear about you dating.”

He laughs under his breath and looks away before glancing back again. “I don’t know what I got to offer anyone.”

“Well, you’re an undiscovered poet. Shit, isn’t that what women want?”

“Apparently not,” he laughs and takes a swig of beer before glancing at the bike I should be working on.

“Maybe I’ll try that online shit, see what I can find.

” He drags in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Anyway, I better get movin’ so you can go back to all those wholesome thoughts of signature drinks and flower arrangements.

” He turns to walk away, but glances back again.

“This girl… her last name sound familiar?”

I know where he’s going with this because I’ve thought the same thing. “It doesn’t check. She’s not his daughter.”

“How do you know? She’s about the age of a girl that would be his daughter, and she has the same last name.”

“Yeah, but Victor lives in Miami now.”

“So, his daughter grew up and moved to the mountains?” He lifts his hands in the air as though he’s not trying to shake things up, but we both know he is. “Just sayin’ I’d want to know if I were into my best friend’s daughter.”

“He hasn’t been my best friend in nearly thirty years, and she’s not his daughter. White is a very common last name.”

“Makes sense,” Red groans before tapping the doorframe and heading out to do God knows what.

The screen door creaks behind him, leaving me in the silence with my lukewarm beer. I finish the rest and set the bottle down with a hollow clink, trying not to let my thoughts run wild.

There’s no way Sienna is my old buddy’s daughter, right?