I clap my hands loudly, and it echoes.
“All right,” I call out. “Listen up. I’m your new coach. Coach Ollie. There will be no cuts. You show up, you work hard, you’re on the team.”
Heads lift, spines straighten, and hope sparks. Then they cheer and fist-bump each other.
Owen looks happy as he lines up with the other kids.
Okay, I think.Let’s do this.
This is what it should be like. Someone stepping in and keeping kids safe.
Chapter 4
Poppy
Ruin The Friendship by Taylor Swift
The shop lights buzz overhead, and I’m elbow-deep in another engine again. It’s late, and I wish I were at home curled up on the couch after the nearly twelve hours I’ve put in today. My body hurts in places I didn’t know it could hurt.
I’m wiping grease from my forearms when the bell over the front door jingles. Ollie and Owen step inside. And Ollie…yeah.
He’s in his Bridger Falls Firefighter hoodie and navy cargo pants that sit low on his hips and fit him just right. The sleeves are pushed up, showing off forearms that look like they were carved by a man who lifts heavy things and saves people for a living.
His hair is dark brown, thick, and just long enough to fall into his eyes when he hasn’t had time for a cut. Right now, it’s messy in that unfair way that looks accidental but absolutelyisn’t. His eyes are a deep, steady hazel which always make me feel like he’s actually listening when I talk, like nothing else exists in the room.
He’s tall too. Solid. Easily six foot and then some, filling up my shop doorway.
He looks like a firefighter calendar model who just wandered into my shop.
Which is ridiculous. Best friends don’t notice things like strong shoulders and broad chests. They don’t clock the way hoodies stretch across muscles or how someone’s presence shifts the air in the room. They definitely don’t stand there thinking about how unfairly good someone looks in navy cargo pants.
I glance over at Owen and do a double take at his black eye. “Whoa. What happened?” I ask as I cup his jaw gently and turn his face, looking at it.
“I had ice on it.” Owen shrugs. “I’m fine.”
My stomach flutters with worry. “What happened?”
“You’re not going to like it, Pops.” Owen grimaces, and my eyes narrow.
“Who did that?” I repeat quietly, trying not to lose it. I grit my teeth.
“Coach Toddy,” Owen says, eyeing me cautiously.
“Coach Toddy?” Heat floods my veins as I look at Ollie for confirmation, because surely, I’m not hearing this right. There’s no way. No way.
I drop the rag in my hand and grab the nearest wrench, already turning toward the door.
“I will weld his truck to a fucking dumpster. After I smash in his windshield.”
Ollie catches me around the waist, laughing even as he hauls me back. “Easy there, Valkyrie.”
The warmth of him, his scent, and the solid press of his body slow me down before my brain catches up. His fingersbrush mine as he wrestles the wrench from my grip, sparks jumping even as my breathing evens out.
Owen laughs and looks at Ollie. “Told you.”
“Don’t encourage her, bud.” Ollie chuckles, but I detect a hint of concern in his usually playful tone.
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
