“Hi, Daddy,” I say as he studies the both of us.
“Serenity.” His expression turns to a smile. “You’re back so soon?”
I look to Westin, and he moves toward me. “I told you I would be, but Everton called. Daddy, this is Westin, my . . .” this is so awkward “. . . boyfriend.”
Daddy hobbles a little down the stairs. “Well, I’ll be,” he chuckles. “The girl listened to me for the first time in her life.”
“Dad!”
Westin laughs and starts to walk toward him. “Hi, Mr. Adams, it’s great to meet you. I’m Westin Grant.”
They shake hands and Dad slaps him on the shoulder. “It’s great to meet you too, son. Come on in. You must be tired from your drive.”
“It’s only a little over an hour, Daddy,” I scoff.
“One would never know that based on how hard it is for you to get your ass out here and see your old man,” my father tosses back.
Touché.
“Here we go,” I mutter as we head into the house.
“I like him,” Westin whispers.
“Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”
We enter, and sure enough, the house is trashed. How, in one week, they were able to reverse everything I did baffles me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I want to scream at him, but it won’t help. Instead, I move things off the kitchen table and chairs and take a seat. Westin and Dad follow me and now it’s time for the talk.
“Dad, why didn’t you let the cleaners in?”
He turns quickly, glaring at me. “I told you before. This is your mother’s house and I’m not letting some strangers come in and move her stuff.”
Tears fill my eyes, but I shove them down. “I understand that, but the house has to be cleaned. Did you eat the food?”
He curses under his breath. My father and I had an amazing relationship that’s been reduced to me having to scold him. This is not what I envisioned. “I eat every damn day, Serenity. I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Westin’s hand grips my thigh and he clears his throat. “Ren tells me that you fix cars?”
Dad nods once. “Since I can remember, I’ve been fixing engines.”
“My dad has a love for cars. I actually restored my first car.” Wes sounds proud.
I glance over at him since he just mentioned getting a new car at sixteen.
“Really?” Pride fills my father’s tone. “How about that?”
Dad gets to his feet and heads to the fridge. He grabs a soda for himself and offers one to Westin.
Cars, bikes, and my mother is all anyone needs to talk about to win Dad’s heart. So far, Westin is off to a good start and I didn’t even tell him what to say.
I lean in, speaking so only he can hear, “I thought you got a new car.”
He whispers back, “I got two. One I could drive and one I had to fix.”
Two cars for his sixteenth birthday? Who does that?
Westin and my dad start to talk about the car he restored. I expected Westin to be trying to get back to Chicago by now, but instead, he’s looking relaxed and carefree in the chair at the kitchen table. My heart, which has been trying so hard to not lose another piece, is pulling away and seeking him out.
I get up and start cleaning a few more things. This place is a mess and I really need to get to work making it livable.
The two of them talk and I lean against the counter with a smile. My father has never done this. I feel horrible for the guy I brought home in high school, when Daddy told him he had a hundred acres and no one would ever find his body. Then, when he met Bryce, he threatened to beat the shit out of him. After that, there was no one else. I never imagined he’d react this way to Westin.
The screen door makes a loud bang and I jump. “You got him to leave his room? Nice,” Everton says as he tosses a six-pack on the counter and grabs one.
“Yes, well, it helps when you talk to him.”
Everton flips me off and pops the bottle cap off, letting it drop to the floor. “Who is this?” he asks as he tips the bottleneck at Westin.
“This is your sister’s boyfriend,” Dad answers.
“Amazing how you have time to be a mediocre doctor and date someone, but not enough to help out up here.”
My family is falling apart and there’s not a damn thing I can do. Everton is so angry at the world, he can’t even see what’s around him. I’m aware that everyone deals with grief their own way. I chose to immerse myself in work, but becoming the town drunk isn’t exactly the best coping mechanism.
“Go take a shower. You smell like a bar.” I cross my arms, refusing to play his game.
“Go save our mother, oh, wait . . .” Everton walks out of the room with the rest of his beer and I want to kill him.
I feel as though he just slapped me across the face.
Everton’s insult stings more than I want it to. I have enough guilt over losing my mother the way we did. She trusted me to help her make the right medical decisions. Even though I was only in medical school, she had such faith in my ability to lead her down the right path.
I was the one who convinced her to do the trial. But that drug didn’t help the way it promised, and she spent months in pain. Our family watched her struggle through the treatments.
“Don’t you dare let him in your head, Serenity Adams.” My father’s voice is hard as steel. “You did everything you could for your mother. You hear me? She was proud of you. She trusted you because you loved her and would never put her in harm’s way.”
My head might know that Everton is a drunk asshole, but my heart doesn’t care. She wouldn’t be proud of the choice to change Allison’s medication when I was drowning in my own sea of grief.
Westin gets to his feet as my lip trembles. He wraps his arm around me, tugging me against his chest. I really hate my stupid brother.
“I’m fine,” I say after a few seconds.
“I knew you were,” Westin says with a light tone. “I just wanted you to hug me. I was feeling lonely.”
I burst out laughing. He’s so full of it, but I appreciate the gesture. “Well, at least after this, you can’t say you didn’t see it all.” I smile and then look over at my dad, who is grinning.
“You know, I have this car that’s giving me problems, would you like to check it out?” Daddy offers to Wes and my jaw drops.
“Sure, it’s been a while since I’ve been under the hood, but I’d love to take a look.”
“What?” I ask. Both their heads turn. “You want Westin to go to the shop? To work on the car?” This can’t be happening. No one goes in the garage but me and Everton.
“That’s what I asked the man.” Dad looks at me like I’m crazy.
Is there anyone that Westin can’t win over in one minute? It’s not normal. The toughest man I know is putty in his hands, inviting him to work on a car. Unbelievable.
“We’ll be back in a bit.” Westin grins at me.
Then another possibility hits me. Maybe my father is trying to make him think he likes him so he can berate him when I’m not around. Westin will be alone—in the woods—with my father who may be old, but has a gun.