Chapter 16
chapter sixteen
“She needs a new engine, eh?” Sandro stood amid the clanking of tools and chatter of conversation at his favorite auto body shop the following morning and patted the hood of his SUV.
“Definitely.” Adam, the mechanic Sandro had been taking his precious baby to from day one, nodded. “And replacing an engine often necessitates replacing other worn-out components. Here’s the cost estimate.”
Sandro accepted the printout from Adam and gave it a quick once-over. “What do you think?” he asked, handing the paper to Bennett.
“Will she run for another fifteen years if the engine gets replaced?” Bennett asked.
Adam shook his head. “If she had less mileage, yes. But Sandro, my man . . . you’ve put a ton of mileage on this car.”
Sandro patted the hood again and forced himself not to get emotional. He’d pushed her to her limit, hadn’t he?
“That’s what happens when you drive from here to Tobermory and back multiple times a year,” Bennett said.
“Want my opinion?” Adam asked.
Sandro nodded. “Please.”
“Buy a new car. If you didn’t make the salary I know you do, I’d tell you to get the engine replacement and milk the next few years out of her. But you can probably afford to pay cash for a dozen of these. Get yourself a new one that has a remote starter and heated seats that actually work.”
Financially, sure, Sandro could buy a new car.
Emotionally? He wasn’t sure he was ready.
This car had been his first large purchase after his rookie season, the first big thing he’d laid down his own hard-earned money for.
It was also the first car that he’d chosen for himself and that hadn’t been a handoff from one of his older siblings.
She’d been reliable and safe and had never let him down.
She’d been the new toy he’d driven around town the month after Bennett had broken up with him.
Darcy had accused him of participating in retail therapy, and maybe he had—the car had certainly improved his mood for a brief time.
And she’d been with him ever since.
It was stupid to be attached to an inanimate object, but tossing her aside for a new car felt like a betrayal.
Bennett’s palm landed on his back, and Sandro leaned into the touch.
“You know cars come with apps now?” Adam said, leaning against the side of Sandro’s car.
“For what?”
“You can lock and unlock your doors, start the engine, adjust climate control, locate your car, check fuel levels. It does all sorts of stuff.”
Huh. That did sound kind of cool.
“Anyway, you don’t have to decide today.” Adam straightened and patted the hood, just like Sandro had done. “I can keep her here until you make up your mind. It’s too bad, you know? She’s in good condition otherwise. But even with a new engine, you’ll probably only get another five to ten years.”
“Wait.” Sandro blinked. “Five to ten years?”
That wasn’t nothing. Weighing that against the cost of replacing the engine and other worn-out components?
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do it.”
Adam’s eyebrows flew skyward. “Really?”
“Yup.”
Grinning, Adam rubbed his hands together. “I was secretly hoping you’d say yes. You and me, girl,” he said to the car. “We’re going to have some fun.”
With that decision finally made, Sandro smiled for the first time all day.
Several minutes later and with his bank account several thousand dollars lighter, he walked back to Bennett’s rental car with Bennett at his side. “You’ve been quiet. You think I made the wrong decision?”
“Honestly?” Bennett opened the driver’s side door and smiled at Sandro over the top of the car. “I would’ve been surprised had you told him to scrap it.”
Sandro wanted to ask what that meant, but an annoyed “Took you long enough” came from the back seat as soon as he’d climbed in and shut the door.
“It was barely ten minutes,” he said, turning to look at his teammate.
Eli huddled in an oversized jacket, hugging Mr. Wiggles like the stuffed bear was a childhood security blanket.
He was red-eyed and disheveled, but Sandro had forced coffee and breakfast down his throat, and he was looking better than he had an hour ago.
He’d run home to change out of his suit and into track pants and a hoodie for today’s practice, but he still smelled like alcohol, although not as strongly as he had last night.
Coach wouldn’t notice. Probably. But Dabbs would.
Bennett popped his phone into the holder clipped to the vents and brought up the maps app. “What was the name of the bar you were at yesterday?”
Eli scowled. “Why?”
“Because we’re going to drop you off at your car,” Sandro reminded him.
“Can we go by after practice instead? Maybe if I leave it there a little longer, someone will steal it.”
“Do you want someone to steal it?” Bennett asked, eyeing Eli in the rearview mirror.
“It smells like pee. And leftover hamburgers, even though I’ve never eaten a hamburger in there ever.”
Sandro stuck his tongue in his cheek. “But you have peed in there?”
“What? No. That’s not what I meant. Ugh. You think you’re so funny.”
“He’s laughing.” Sandro jerked a thumb at Bennett.
“He’s besotted.”
“Can’t argue that,” Bennett agreed. He plugged the arena’s address into his app and began driving.
Sandro took Bennett’s right hand off the gear shift and held it in both of his, earning himself a quick smile. Bennett’s palm was cool against Sandro’s, and Sandro rubbed his wrist with his thumb.
Last night had left them in a more permanent place. Things between them felt more deeply rooted and stable. It was like going from a pot-holed road—bumpy and shaky—to a recently paved street that was smooth for miles.
Of course, they were still waiting to hear from David about whether their relationship would jeopardize Bennett’s place here, so things could go tits up at any moment.
It hadn’t seemed like David had a problem with it, and it had been almost an entire day since that phone call, but although Bennett hadn’t said as much, Sandro knew he was quietly worried about David’s reaction since David hadn’t mentioned it one way or the other.
Still, Sandro found the possibility of Bennett getting fired wasn’t as scary as it had been.
He’d meant what he’d said—they weren’t kids anymore.
Whatever the world threw at them, they’d handle it together.
“B,” he muttered quietly so his voice didn’t carry to Eli. “If you get fired . . .” He paused there, unsure what exactly he wanted to ask. By outing their relationship to his producer, Bennett had chosen him over his job.
If David fired him, would Bennett regret it?
Bennett squeezed his hand. “If I get fired, I get fired. Wouldn’t be the first time.
It would suck, obviously. I believe in this project, but not only that—it was my idea.
But at the end of the day, a job is temporary.
You—” He looked away from the road and pierced Sandro with his blue-eyed gaze. “—are not.”
Fireworks crackled to life in Sandro’s chest. Christ, there was a lot to unpack there, not the least of which was that Bennett had quietly reaffirmed his commitment to him. Again.
Also . . . “You’ve been fired before?”
Bennett just smiled. “Hollywood is fickle,” was all he said.
“Speak up,” Eli grumbled from the back. “I can’t hear you.”
“Eavesdropper,” Sandro teased.
“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m right here.”
They arrived at the arena a few minutes later. They were early for practice, but Sandro wanted to do a light workout first, and he figured Eli could use one to sweat the rest of the alcohol out of him.
Plus, Sandro wanted to talk to Roman.
Near the locker room, they bumped into CC and Hughes in the hallway.
“Hey, guys,” Sandro said. “Have you seen Rom—”
“Mr. Wiggles!” CC launched himself at Eli, who two-stepped out of reach with a squeak and hid behind Sandro.
“He’s mine now.”
“What?” Sandro scowled at his younger teammate. “No, he isn’t.”
“Um, excuse you.” CC jabbed a finger in their direction. “He’s not yours either, Zanetti. Did either of you win him fair and square? No. Ergo, Mr. Wiggles is mine. Gimme.”
Bennett, camera bag gripped in one hand, frowned at all of them. “Seriously, what is it with this bear?”
“I’ll give you a hundred bucks for him,” Hughes said calmly, peering at Eli between Sandro’s and Bennett’s bodies.
Eli pursed his lips. Nodded once. Held the bear out toward Hughes. “Done.”
Sandro’s jaw dropped. “Wha—Eli! A hundred bucks? You’re a cheap date.”
“What? I don’t have your salary. A hundred bucks goes a long way.”
Hughes handed Mr. Wiggles to CC. Beaming, CC kissed his cheek—Hughes’ cheek, that was, not the bear’s. “You’re the best.” He skipped past them, calling, “Better luck at the next Hughes Thanksgiving, Zanetti,” over his shoulder.
Sandro tipped his head in the direction CC had gone. “That a thing now?”
Hughes’ shrug was very casual, but his smile was very smug. “We’re figuring it out.” He edged past them in the direction CC had gone.
“Hey, wait,” Eli said. “Where’s my money?”
“My wallet’s in my bag in the locker room. Grab a few bills.”
Sandro watched Eli disappear into the locker room, then called, “You know you just got played by a child, right?” to Hughes’ retreating back.
“Worth it!”
“Hey, have you seen Roman?”
“Gym.”
“Come with me,” Sandro said to Bennett. “And bring your camera.”
“You want me to record your conversation with Roman?”
“Might as well. Could be handy for the series.”
They headed to the locker room first so Sandro could leave his outerwear behind and change from his boots to his sneakers.
He waited for Bennett to attach a bunch of doohickeys to his camera while Eli counted cash from Hughes’ wallet—why Hughes was carrying around more than a hundred dollars in cash was beyond him. Who used cash anymore?
When Bennett was ready, they headed out, Sandro with a pointed glance at Eli. “Make sure you get a workout in. And don’t let Dabbs sniff you until you’ve showered.”
Eli rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”