Chapter One
Carter
I grab the keys to the tow truck off the hook behind the counter, then stick my head through the door into the service bay. Coveralls only partially on, my brother Lincoln is getting ready to work on Patrick Kelsey’s truck, surveying the damage from when it got rear ended and slammed into a telephone pole in last week’s snowstorm.
My eyes shift to the window overlooking the back parking lot where the minivan that hit him sits in all its crumpled shame. Sadly, we determined it was totaled. Fortunately, the owner—schoolteacher and single mom, Sabrina Malone—did not have her young son in the car, and she luckily walked away unscathed, albeit without a vehicle.
I stare at the minivan thinking about how Dax, my other younger brother, kept pushing me to give her a ride home even thoughhewas the one who towed the car. If you ask me, he was trying to play matchmaker.Again. He and our sister, Mia—Dax’s twin—try to set me up every chance they get… along with countless others in this town. I’m simply not interested.
It’s not that Sabrina isn’t attractive. She is. Blonde. Curvy. Amazing… teeth. Several years younger than me. Upper twenties, if I recall. And it’s definitely not the single mom thing. Hell, I’ve been a single dad since I was seventeen, so far be it for me to hold that against anyone. It’s just… I have my son, Christian. And I truly believe there isn’t a single woman in this small town who is worthy of being a mother figure to him.
And besides, Sabrina is nice. Not someone who would want a romp in the hay just to scratch an itch. Which is pretty much all the action I’ve seen in the past decade.
Still looking out back, I grip the keys in my hand a little tighter and wonder if the weather will clear enough for me to tow the piece of junk to the scrapyard later today. The streets have cleared up marginally since the storm, but there’s still a good layer of snow and ice. Having done more than a few dangerous towing jobs over the weekend due to the conditions, I just don’t know if it’s worth the risk.
It’s early. No one else is here but the two of us. With high school starting at seven-thirty now—a fact that all teenagers in Calloway Creek protested when the change was made last summer—I’m often the first one here on the days I do carpool.
“You’re in early for a Monday.”
Lincoln zips up the front of the coveralls and looks up, yawning. “I slept at Tiffany’s again. She snores.”
I laugh. They’ve been together for over two years. Surely her snoring is nothing new. I cock my head. “Is that why you haven’t moved in together?”
He shrugs. “I’ve thought about it. But, bro, it’s seriously like a chainsaw.”
I raise a brow. “The two of you having issues?”
“Nah. I love her and all,” he says, though not very convincingly. “I’m just not sure I could take the next sixty years of her sawing logs.”
“So get ear plugs.” I hold up the keys and jingle them. “Take a little ride with me?”
He cracks a smile. “Afraid to drive out there on your own, big brother?”
“Just get your ass in the truck.” I lock the service bay doors. “Dax or Mia will be here soon. They can handle things until we get back.”
He follows me out and helps me scrape fresh snow off the truck’s windows, jumping from foot to foot, complaining about how cold it is.
“Maybe wear your coat next time.”
He crosses his arms and tucks his hands into his armpits. “Coats are for pussies.”
I’m barely out of the lot and down the street, carefully navigating around McQuaid Circle, when I note the lack of traffic. Stopping right in front of Ava Criss’s coffee shop, I tilt my head toward the entrance. “Mind going in for our order? And get me a croissant.”
“Coffee!” He says it as if he forgot I bring it to the shop every goddamn day. “Oh, hell yeah.”
He’s out the door quickly as I glance up and down the street, wondering why school wasn’t called off today. I figure it’s because they’ve already had six snow days this year and someone decided four inches of white stuff wasn’t enough to warrant another one. But if the very short drop-off line at Christian’s school this morning was any indication, it seems four inches was more than enough to convince the majority of the other parents to keeptheirkids home.
Am I a bad parent for taking Christian? Visions of him slipping and falling, his forearm crutches sliding across a patch of ice, invade my thoughts. But I know he’d have side-eyed me if I even mentioned keeping him home because of the weather. Never one to let his disability keep him down, he’d have read my concerns like a book and been pissed at me for even suggesting it.
Besides, he loves school. He loved it even before he got to ride to and from school every day with Bug, his crush from next door. Bug’s dad or stepmom and I take turns carpooling. The school isn’t far by most people’s standards, but with Christian’s cerebral palsy, it’s just not manageable for him on a daily basis. He’s good on his crutches, but walking a mile tires him easily, and we don’t need to risk any unnecessary falls.
Falls—and now I’m feeling like a bad parent for sending him to school again.
A cold gush of air enters the truck when Lincoln opens the passenger door. He shoves a small bag at me, puts my coffee in the cup holder alongside his, and secures the other two for Dax and Mia between his feet in the footwell.
“How long has Ava been back at work?”
“Have you been living under a rock?” I ask. “She was back at work two weeks after Jordan was born. Well, with help from Trevor’s parents.”
