Mac leaves me alone in the garage, and I tidy up to busy myself while I'm waiting for Pops.

The convo I want us to have is no shit. I'm going to ask Dad to hire a woman he barely knows to help her daughter out. My palms are sweaty as I try to plan the words I need to convince him.

The roar of Dad's bike breaks the quiet after a while. He parks by the entrance and makes his way inside, retying his hair as he strolls into the repair shop and gives his surroundings an appreciative nod.

"Hey," I say. "Did you do everything you wanted?"

Pops groans. "Not really. I might take a couple of hours off tomorrow morning. Will you be here?"

I chuckle. "It's my job. I'm on your payroll, Pops."

"Smartass." Dad grins. "Speaking of payment, I ran into Bill at the grocery store. He's happy with what you did to his bike."

"It was nothing, just basic maintenance. If Bill cleans it, he won't have problems."

Pops reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple of bills. "Your tip. Bill told me to give it to you."

I roll my eyes but take the money. "Thanks."

Dad looks at me with too much intensity for my liking. "He asked me why you came back."

I pad to the shelf, and rearrange the tools that are already in perfect order.

"Brian, he's not wrong, you know?" Pops says. He called me by my name, not little fucker or Son, and if that shit ain't a sign of a serious convo, then I don't know what is.

"Billy boy should mind his own business, Dad. Mom wanted to move back here, and I missed this town."

Pops lets out a deep sigh. "I know that, but have you thought about what you're gonna do next? Staying at the garage repairing bikes is a temporary solution. Mom and I saved for you to go to college. Money isn't a problem, Son."

"I'm not planning to go to college," I say, a bit too harshly. Dad's intentions are good, but I hate it when he bugs me about the same shit.

"Brian, what you have isn't a curse. It's—"

I throw a wrench onto the shelf, and metal clinks against metal. "A damn blessing, Dad? Something that sets me apart from the rest?"

Pops throws me a sadness-filled glance and goes to his office in the back of the garage, perhaps to take care of the papers he left scattered around his desk this morning.

I rake my fingers through my hair and follow him to the tiny room. He's aware of my short fuse and hardly ever pushes. I don't want to seem ungrateful. Plenty of kids would give anything to have what our parents gave Jimmy and me.

"Fixing bikes is what I'm good at," I say. "Not everyone has to go to college. I'm happy here, and you shouldn't think I'm missing out on something cause I'm not, Dad."

With a sigh, Pops lowers himself onto his leather chair at the desk. "Okay. I just want you to know your options, and college is one of them. I'm your father, and I worry."

"Well, stop." I shrug.

Pops chuckles. "I wish I could."

I loiter in the doorway, looking for a conversation starter that would allow me to bring up Grace and the job. "Do you need help with the papers?" I ask my dad after watching him frown at the mess in front of him.

"I just need to organize stuff, and I've been too busy these last couple of days."

I scratch my head. "Yeah, I know, but what about having someone to help you with it daily?"

Laughter spouts from Dad's mouth. "A secretary?"

"Kinda. Why are you laughing? It's not that crazy."

Dad leans back in the chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Who needs the job?"

"Kitten's — fuck, I mean Leah's mother."

Pops gives me a sweet smile I don't like in the least. "Leah, as in the girl next door?"

"That's the one," I say. "They're struggling. She doesn't have a father, and her mother's unemployed. If you hired her, we'd help them out."

Pops regards me for a while. His face is expressionless, and I have no clue what he thinks of my suggestion until he says, "Okay. Why not? We're fully booked next week. I could hire her part-time to answer the calls and take care of the appointments and paperwork."

I exhale. "Cool. Can you talk to her now while Leah's at school? Grace's truck is there. She's home."

"Okay. Wait here while I visit her."

Pops leaves, and I pace the length of the garage, hoping Kitten's mother is a smart woman who cares about her daughter.

When my dad is back, his mouth is set in a tight line, and I sense the anger pouring out of him even before he opens his mouth and says, "Grace told me they don't need help from someone like me. According to her, they have everything they need, and I should stay away from them."

"What the fuck?" I ball my fists. "Everything they need? The chick's starving. Is that woman fucking insane?"

"What can I do, Brian? I could offer the job to the girl, but her mother told me to leave them alone."

I tug at the roots of my hair and release a groan. "Thanks. It's almost lunchtime. I wanna go for a ride if you don't need me."

"Your intentions were good, Son. It's not your fault. Are you gonna have lunch at home?"

"I might grab something at the store and eat by the lake. I haven't been there in forever, but if you need me here, I'll stay."

"Nothing's scheduled this afternoon. Go get some fresh air."

I give Pops a nod and make my way out of the garage. Outside, I pull a cigarette out of the pack and light it. The rage that fills me with every drag I take is more venomous than the smoke I willingly let into my system. Kitten's shitty mother has nothing against Ferdinand's money but is too proud to accept a job that will feed her daughter. It's wrong and makes no sense at all.

I'm even more irate when I see Grace's truck is missing again. Will Kitten have something to eat when she's home from school? I have no idea about her schedule, but her classes should be over soon.

I order myself to calm the fuck down as I get changed at home, grab some cash, and hop on my bike to go to the lake.

The ride does little to improve my mood. The rumble of the bike's engine is usually the most soothing sound. Now, I'm too riled up to focus on anything other than my frustration.

I hit the kickstand and park my Fat Boy next to a grocery store downtown. I'm about to go in when I catch sight of a group of guys sitting in a booth at the diner across the street. Ferdinand's there with his nerd squad, stuffing fries into his mouth. There's a girl with them, but she isn't Kitten.

I turn on my heel and hop on my bike. Unsure of what I'm gonna do or where I'm gonna go, I cruise down the road toward Kitten's school.

I'm not the least bit surprised when I see her on the sidewalk, walking with her textbooks pressed to her chest.

I slow the bike. "Yo, Kitten!"

A brief frown flits over Kitten's face. Then her gaze lands on me, and she gives me a small smile.

"Hey, O'Brien. What are you doing here?"

I'm probably doing something I shouldn't because I park my bike and pat the seat. "Your mother isn't at home. Hop on; I'm taking you somewhere."