“You still have dad’s roses?” Amazement painted his little face.
I nodded. “I keep them in a bottle, in a box he made for me.” A stab of loss pierced my heart and for just a moment I forgot to breathe. Then I looked into those familiar gray eyes staring back at me and my smile found its way back to my lips. “I love you.” I tapped his nose lightly, a gesture I’d adopted from Shay. “Now, get some sleep, okay?”
With a quick kiss to my cheek, he slid back under the covers.
As I went back to my room, I knew my sleep would be filled with dreams of Shay.
If only you were real.
34. All Of Me – John Legend
Shay – 37 years
Bent over the ’67 GT500 I was refurbishing in the garage, I looked up as Brax pulled into the driveway. Dropping the rag, I used to wipe my hands, I watched him climb out his car and approach, his expression acute wariness.
After I divorced Ryleigh, she hooked up with Brax within a week and a month later, they married. Did it bother me that he’d fucked my wife behind my back? Not in the least. I didn’t care. Sometimes I considered it Ryleigh’s payback for me fucking Skye on her wedding day. They had a two-year old son now and strangely I was happy for them despite the twinge of agony I suffered when I encountered the child. A rarity since I didn’t mingle in their circles, not like I fitted into any other circles either. I’d become a loner and I liked it that way.
Lately though, Brax seemed to be stepping into my space a lot and that annoyed the fuck out of me. “What are you doing here?” I grabbed my beer off the workbench and downed the remnants in one swift gulp.
“I’m not giving up...” he trailed off when my brow shot up.
“Guess you like getting your ass kicked.” I scowled, tossing the bottle in the trashcan and turned back to the car.
“Jesus, Shay, it took everything I had to come here again after you almost bit off my head the last three times.” Brax leaned his hands on the side of the car.
“Who the fuck asked you to?” I grunted, dropping the wrench I held with a little more force than I intended.
Over the last month, Brax had tried, several times, to coax me into helping a friend run an auto shop he’d inherited in some small town on the Malibu coast. I wasn’t interested. The first two times he showed up, I’d shoved him into a wall and told him to fuck off. On his third visit, I’d punched him in the gut. Seemed like he was either a persistent bastard or he was angling for another ass kicking.
“Because I’m trying to help dammit.” He picked up the tool and dropped it in the toolkit. “Look, I know I’m the last person you’d want any dealings with, but I’m just trying to help. With everything you—”
I slammed the hood down, almost taking out his fingers in the process. “You know shit about what I went through, so stay the fuck out of my life.”
Dragging his hands through his hair, he glanced at something behind me, shaking his head.
I spun around, coming face to face with my father. “Dad?” I looked from him to Brax and back to him again. “Is this your idea?”
