He's the guy moms warn their daughters about. Bold, outspoken, and self-confident, Brian O'Brien returns to his hometown only to discover some things changed in his absence.
Brian has a new neighbor - a shy, smart girl Leah, who hates his guts since...
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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."
