“I told you I’d give you until the end of summer,” Sal says, rocking back in his seat.
“I know,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “Thank you for giving me time to get my shit together. I love this place, and I know I can do a good job with it.”
Sal smiles at me with tiny wrinkle lines crawling across his face. He has more wrinkles than he did a few years ago, and I know this job has been wearing on him. He told me one time that he planned to pass the shop down to his son, but when God gave him four girls, he knew he was screwed. He did try to get his girls interested in fixing cars, but each one hightailed it out of Honey Grove the first chance they got.
And then came me.
“Knox, you’re a good kid. I’ll admit, I didn’t think that you’d stick around this long, but I’m glad you did. You work hard, and I can tell you care about this place as much as I did at one point. Hell, we didn’t even have a customer waiting room before you suggested shrinking the office to make space for one. I want you to have this place. But I also need that money to retire and I can’t just hand it over, no matter how much I believe in you.”
“I know,” I reply, bowing my head. He could’ve sold this place months ago. He’s gotten multiple offers over the years, but Sal held out for me, and I don’t want to let him down.
“Your dad will come around,” Sal says, before placing one hand on my shoulder, “and if he doesn’t, I’ll make sure the next shop owner has a place for you.”
I shift my weight awkwardly. It’s a kind gesture, but I don’t want to work for someone else. I’m ready to take the next step. “Thanks, Sal. For everything.”
Sal gives me one last warm nod before walking back toward the door. “Oh, and about the girl,” he says, spinning toward me with a knowing gleam lighting up his face.
I stiffen, knowing it was naïve of me to think he’d drop it.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
“You literally just yelled at me for swearing,” I scoff, cocking one brow.
“I’m allowed to swear, son. I’ve earned it,” he explains, adding a small shrug, “but I mean it. I’ve never seen you go out of your way for a girl, so this one must be special. Don’t waste your time playing games like I did with Nancy. I should’ve dropped to one knee the day I met her.”
I let out a dry laugh. “You’re getting soft in your old age, Sal.”
“You know what I mean,” he clarifies, wagging a finger at me. He pulls open the door and pauses before saying, “Goodnight, kid.”
I wait until I hear the door click shut before I sit back inmy stool and run a hand through my hair. I was playing a game, alright. It was a harmless deal, and I had no intention of claiming a prize at the end. Well, not entirely.
My gaze settles on the rusted pile of metal, hoping it’ll give me answers. I don’t want to lose this shop. I’ve worked too damn hard to walk away now. I almost see the future I’ve been chasing, but every time I get close, it slips a little farther away.
And lately, when that image pops in my head, there’s someone else in it. I can’t see the person’s face, but I know it’s someone important. And lately, I’m starting to worry that their eyes are green and that they have wild blonde and black hair that clash perfectly.
“Here’s the deal, little dude. If I give you this ice cream cone, you can’t tell your mother about it, okay?” I say, attempting to bargain with a four-year-old.
Milo smiles widely, showing me all of his teeth. “Deal!” he exclaims, reaching for the chocolate cone.
Tonight is Henry and Emma’s date night, and being the amazing uncle I am, I offered to babysit. Milo is a cool kid, and I don’t mind hanging out with him or teaching him creative ways to drive his mom and stepdad insane.
Plus, it’s nice to have a reason to leave the shop. I was close to saying fuck it and just giving Emery my old truck. I wonder if she’d notice. Sure, mine was red, and hers was blue, but I could find a good lie to cover that up.
Milo and I find a picnic table to hang out at while he finishes off his cone. I love the kid, but if he ever drips ice cream on the newly upholstered leather seats in the old Mustang I’ve been restoring, I may have to tell him to play in the road.
I watch as chocolate drips down his hands and I couldn’t be happier with the decision. I’m about to steal a bite when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket. I look at the caller ID and my heart stumbles.
“Hey, Bambi,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Should I be concerned I haven’t heard from my girlfriend in over a week?”
“Probably,” she huffs, already annoyed. “I was hoping you’d forget about me and move on with your life.”
“You wound me,” I exhale, hoping she’s picturing me clutching my chest. Milo stares at me with interest for five seconds before refocusing on his cone. “What do I owe the honor of this call?”
“I wanted to check on my truck,” she says. It’s faint, but I can hear the strain of her voice pushing through the line.
I clear my throat and rest my elbows on the table. “It’s taking longer than I thought it would, but I’m hoping to have it back to you by next week.”
Emery is quiet, and that always makes me want to fill up space with a dumb joke or some lame anecdote to lighten the mood. But when I reach for the words, I can’t find them. “What is it, Bambi? Do you need something? I told you I can get you a rental.”
