I chuckled.“It’s runnin’. Dad’s gonna need to help me with the fine tuning.”
I was restoringa 1974 Harley-Davidson Shovelhead and it had been in rough shape when I foundit. Luckily, my dad could fix anything and had taught us all to do the same, soworking on it had been more fun than pain. But now I just needed Dad’s magicalpowers to get it sounding right. It was currently sitting in the club garagejust begging for road time.
“Flash?” Dadbellowed from upstairs. “That you?”
“Yeah, Pop.”
“Gotta make arun to Freddie’s for your mom. Need to look at the bike later.”
“Sure,” I said. “Shedoin’ okay?”
“Cold’s kickin’her ass,” he said. “And she doesn’t want tostay the fuck in bed.” Heturned his head and yelled the last bit toward their bedroom.
“Sod off!” sheyelled back, followed by coughing.
My mother wasBritish. High-class all the way… until she wasn’t. She could swear better thanany of us, but it never sounded wrong with her English accent.
Dad grinned.“Love you too, Sunshine.”
He pulled hislong hair back and continued down the stairs.
“You takin’ yourbike or the truck?” I asked. “I’ll tag along if you’re in the cage.”
“’Course, bud,”Dad said. “I’ll grab my keys. Jamie, make sure your mother stays put.”
“Fuck me,” hegrumbled, dragging ass back up the stairs. “I should get hazard pay.”
Dad and I shareda chuckle, then he swapped keys, and we headed out to his truck. Truth be told,my brother was a mama’s boy through and through.
“You hear fromTate yet?” Dad asked as we drove.
“No.”
Tate had goneoff to college three years ago. Then she pretty much ghosted me, and I couldreally only blame myself. But that was a story for another day, and certainlynot one I was gonna share with my pops.
“She stillpissed at you?” Dad asked as he pulled into the parking lot.
“Why would youthink she was pissed at me?” I frowned. “I could be pissed at her.”
He slid into aparking space and faced me. “Oh, yeah? What’d she do to make you pissed ather?”
“Nothing.” Isighed. “I’m pretty sure I fucked up.”
“You wanna fixit?”
“I think I kindaleft it a little too long,” I admitted.
Dad smiled.“Bud, you two have been joined at the hip since you met. You weathered all thatMadison drama and came out on the other side.”
I’m not sure wedidweather the Madison shit. I’d pulled my grades up, barely, but Tate had startedto pull away from me, particularly after high school graduation, and I wasn’tentirely sure why. “Yeah.”
“I’d start byapologizin’ if you haven’t already.”
I pinched thebridge of my nose and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Lecture over,”Dad said.
“Thanks.”
