My heartbeat trips over itself. “Here?”
His eyes go impossibly blue in the dimly lit room. “Here.”
When our version of Dad’s song fills the room, I give in to the sweet moment and press my cheek to Fallon’s, our bodies gently swaying in a slow dance.
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
His lips are a soft caress against my ear. “I’d do just about anything to see you smile.”
And I trip, stumble, and fall just a little bit more for this wonderful man.
Chapter Thirty-Two
JAYSON
Forgiveness
I’ve been parkedin front of Randy’s Custom Auto for a while, just staring at the damn place, not able to go inside. Several of the bays are open, each one with a different car and a different mechanic hunched over its engine. Every once in a while, the loud whir of an air wrench muffles out the other sounds of tools clanging as they’re dropped back into their trays.
Marcus saunters back and forth from the car he’s working on to a workbench, stopping briefly to talk to another mechanic when they approach him. It freaks me out how much he looks like Ry.
“Hey, man,” a guy says, walking over. He pulls a towel from the back loop of his work coveralls and wipes his hands with it. “Bringing your car in?”
“Uh, no. I’m here to see Marcus.”
He glances over to his right. “Bossman is in bay one. I’m Tate.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.
“Jayson.”
“I figured. You look just like your brother. Ryder used to have a photograph of the three of you on his desk in his office. Hetalked about you a lot. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. Put a face to the name and all that.”
Hearing that Ry never gave up on me strangles my goddamn heart. “You knew Ry well?”
Tate leans back against the side of a Dodge Ram, the thick, grease-stained muscles of his arms bulging. “Since I was a kid. Started working for him when I was sixteen. Part-time after school because I knew he’d kick my ass if I dropped out. Once I graduated, he took me on full-time.”
Loyalty. Ry was that kind of person. He inspired people. He was a person someone could look up to and want to emulate because he personified everything a good man should be.
“How’s Marcus handling things?” I ask. I can only imagine the responsibility he had to take on at such a young age when Ry passed away. How difficult it must have been for him to have just graduated high school and run a business at the same time.
“Better than any of us expected. He works harder than he should, in my opinion.”
Grief can do that to you. It’s a coping mechanism. I should know. Throw yourself into something else—work, sex, alcohol—in order to take your mind off the one thing you can’t escape. But that kind of fix is a cruel illusion and doesn’t solve anything because what you’re running from always catches up to you.
Crossing the garage toward the front office of the main building, Marcus happens to glance our way and halts in his tracks when he sees me. He heads in our direction, a stern scowl on his face.
“Nice meeting you, Tate.” We bump fists.
“Same.”
“Josh needs help with the GMC,” Marcus says to Tate, who nods and walks off. Crossing his arms over his chest, Marcus glares me down. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to apologize for what happened last night.”
“Youwant to apologize tomefor punching you? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Not in this case.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “Whatever floats your boat, man. But I promised Mom I would apologize, so…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, especially in front of my girl.”
