Chapter 26
SLADE
“I compared it to Mom’s medical records, and I don’t have the genetic markers.” Krissy leans over my desk, pointing to the report that might as well be written in a foreign language.
The impact gun grinds in the background. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, but I’ve done some research, and this other stuff doesn’t make sense.” She slides her finger over the report like I’m supposed to be able to decipher what it means. “Mom didn’t have this descent.” She stares, waiting for me to connect the dots.
“What?” I rest back in my chair, my eyes lingering over all the information again.
She plops down in the chair across from me. “It means our dad is likely a carrier.”
My gaze lifts to hers, and she lets that sit there for a moment.
She fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “I’ve. . .been thinking about seeing if I can find him.”
“Kris, I don’t—”
She holds up her hand. “I know you’ve never wanted to talk about him or know anything, but this is different. We’re talking medical history. I don’t want anything from him. I just want to know if there’s a history that we should be aware of. I mean, stuff like this can be important. ”
I set the paper on the desk and stare across the space at my sister. I know she wants far more than that, but she’ll never get what she’s really searching for.
“Kris, there was a reason he wasn’t involved or around, and Mom never talked about him. Whatever this test shows, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” I need that to be true for her sake.
She shrugs one shoulder, inspecting her nails.
“It might.” Her eyes lift to mine underneath her long, dark eyelashes, her hands dropping into her lap.
“I just . . . Don’t you ever want to know what he looks like or what he does?
I mean, he might be a drug dealer or addict, or a crime boss.
What if he’s spending life in prison?” She straightens in her seat.
“Some of those things can be hereditary. Wouldn’t you want to know if you’re in jeopardy of becoming a serial killer? ”
I tip back in my chair. “Really?” I stare at her. “Kris, nothing good will come from you digging into something that had nothing to do with us.”
She crosses her arms and exhales, then pushes her lips to the side. I can see her frustration and disappointment. “You could do a test. At least we could see if you’re also a carrier of some of these things. It might give us a better idea of how prevalent or serious it might be.”
“Like developing serial killer tendencies?”
She shrugs both shoulders this time. “You are kind of obsessive about certain things.”
I roll my eyes. If a quick spit test keeps her from searching for our father and possibly creating a shit storm we don’t need any part of, then it’s a no-brainer. “Fine.”
She smiles. “Thank you. I’ll order one, and it’ll be here in a few days, but you have to mail it in.” Her smile fades. “Aren’t you ever curious who Mom was hiding and why? She was so beautiful and fun and full of life.” Her eyes drop to the floor. “There are so many things I wish I could ask her.”
Our mom was beautiful and smart and deserved so much better than what she got. But I learned long ago that sometimes we won’t ever understand why even the people we love the most do the things they do or make the choices they make.
In her case, she loved someone who never loved her back. She was second choice, a long-time secret, and Kris and I were casualties.
“Truth?” I ask, and she nods. “I got tired of wondering and her non-answers.” It felt like she was protecting him, and I never understood that. “It’s one of those things we might always wonder, but she loved you. . .so much. That’s what matters.”
Her lips form a sad smile. “She loved you, too.”
The complicated wave of feelings I try to avoid stirs, and I need it to settle back down.
“Order the test, and I’ll send it in.”
She smiles and pushes out of her chair, folding up the paper and placing it back in the envelope.
I follow her out of my office and into the noisy shop.
“Boy, who showed you how to zip a tire like that? You’re gonna give Trigger a run for his money.” Carson stands next to Luke, inspecting his quick work.
Luke emailed me over the weekend and told me that he could start on Monday. The farm boy was here before I arrived this morning.
“All right, boys,” Krissy hollers. “Saturday morning, bright and early. Bring your muscles, but pissy attitudes and groans will be parked at the curb.”
Trig rolls out from underneath a truck and sits up. “Do you want our help or not?”
Krissy sets her hands on her hips. “Yes, but for every smartass comment or complaint, there will be a deduction from the dinner allowance.”
“That’s not fair. We’ll end up paying for it after helping you move,” Wind yells from the pit.
Krissy grins.
“I can help.” Luke pops up, his bright, young eyes focused on Krissy .
“Are you capable of lifting boxes and moving quickly?” Krissy asks, and he nods. “You’re hired.” She gives him a thumbs up, crossing to the door. “Pizza and beer are on me if these numbnuts can keep their traps shut.”
“Lata losers.” She waves duces, and the door bangs closed.
Wind’s voice comes from the pit. “Hey, Princess Leia. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but just know that’s Slade’s sister.”
“Eyes and hands to yourself, man, and finish that up,” Carson points to the remaining tires needing to be installed and walks toward me.
Luke’s cheeks turn bright red. “I was just . . .”
“It’s all right,” Trig says, slapping him on the shoulder. “We gotta lay down the ground rules. It’s part of the initiation.”
I pull up the afternoon schedule, and Carson leans against the counter.
“Everything ok?”
Krissy walked in with our lunch orders and announced she had received her DNA test results. When she started to dissect them, I pulled her into the office, not wanting to discuss her personal information in front of everyone.
I scroll through the remaining appointments. “Yeah. She wants me to do one of those tests.”
He runs a hand over his scruffy face. “But her results are ok?”
His eyes flick between mine, and I frown, wondering if she told him about the test and why she was doing it.
“Yeah. She’s not a carrier for the genes our mom had.”
He nods slowly. “That’s good. She wants you to do a test?” His brows pull together.
“There’s some stuff she thinks is strange. She wants to see if my results show the same thing.”
“And that’ll tell you something?”
I huff. “Hell if I know. If it’ll keep her from searching for our dad . . . ”
Carson is the only one who knows about our dad, and that’s only because we ran into him one night while having a beer after the gym.
“She wanted to?” he asks softly.
“That asshole will only hurt her, and I’ll be damned if I see that happen.”
He pushes out a breath. “Want to hit the gym tonight?”
I nod. “Sure.”
Wind joins us, leaning his elbow on the counter next to me. “So, have you heard anything from Sarah? Re-extended an invitation for Saturday dinner at Krissy’s, perhaps?”
Carson stifles a laugh as I turn my head to look at him. “Are you logging a spreadsheet? And why the hell are you talking like that?”
He straightens. “Just being an accountability partner, and Millie’s been watching Downton Abbey. The dialect gets stuck in my head.”
“Well, stop it. It’s weird and uncomfortable, and who the hell says perhaps?”
“So? Have you?” Wind pushes.
I grunt. “She said she was busy, but do you honestly think I’d tell you?”
The answer is no, but I’m not telling him shit. It’s only been a few days since I sat with her on my porch, and she revealed things I assume aren’t for public consumption.
She told me that truth hurts, and sometimes it really does.
These idiots are making me face a fear I’ve avoided long enough.
It’s a risk to put myself out there. It’s the fear the nineteen-year-old me didn’t even consider—just a kid seeking love and comfort amidst heartache and pain.
Instead, I watched every single thing slip through my fingers, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
But when Sarah told me she wanted to be brave and the kind of person who doesn’t give a shit what other people think, it made me realize I’ve been a coward—sealing myself off and making excuses, terrified to go after what I want. If I’m honest, it’s what I’ve always wanted .
“We saw that sweet moment on the porch. You puttin’ your arm around her,” Carson drawls. “Smooth move, man. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Listen, she was having a tough time. I did what any of you would have done if it were Krissy.” The difference is I didn’t want to let her go, and when her sad eyes stared up at me, a wave of need swooped through me with a power I’d not felt before.
I didn’t just want to hold her. I wanted to haul her to me and kiss her until she believed everything would be all right. I wanted her to know she doesn’t have to figure things out by herself and that I can help. That maybe we could be scared together.
I won’t be doing any such thing until I understand more. I want to know about this guy Roxie mentioned. The one I suspect is Ollie and Frankie’s father. More than that, I want to get to the bottom of why she doesn’t believe in herself and who is responsible.
“It’s all buttoned up.” Luke strolls over, saving me from this conversation.
“Have you ever changed an oxygen sensor?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
I nod in the direction of a Ford Escape. “Come on. I’ll get you started.”
Wind returns to the Dodge van with a coolant leak, but points at me. “I’ll be in touch, partner.”
“This isn’t AA.”
He laughs. “Sure isn’t, but we are in the business of recovering hearts.” He holds his hands in the shape of a heart over his chest.
“Who else has a broken heart?” Luke asks, glancing around the room through the mop of hair falling over his forehead.
The garage stills to the sounds of Trig guzzling his water. He burps. “I don’t.”
Carson snorts. “That’s cause you chase tail like it’s your day job. Someday that’s gonna catch up with you,” Carson says, pulling a wrench from his tool chest .
Trig tosses his bottle in the trash. “Nah, man. You’re just too much like Slade. So serious all the time. You don’t know how to let go and have fun.”
I hand Luke a wrench. “Lesson one: Don’t listen to these morons.”
“What’s lesson two?” His earnest, boyish face shines with eagerness.
My hand pauses in front of the firewall. I think of Cal and everything he taught me. He gave me a job and a place to bury the pain. Over time, he showed me what it means to be a man.
I look at him. “Figure out the kind of man you’re gonna be.”
“Then, what?”
“Shit, kid. This is a one-step-at-a-time program.”
“Hell yeah, it is!” Wind hollers.
I roll my eyes. They might be total pains in my ass, but I’d follow these misfits to the front line anytime, anywhere.
And it doesn’t totally suck to have them in my corner as I navigate the intimidating unknown, either.