Once they get the Challenger locked in place and lifted, I roll my chair under it. Head craned back, I use Dad as my hands. “Pull that line.”
Dad preemptively knows what to do for the next thirty minutes as we look at various things that could’ve gone wrong. It’s when we pull the tank that I see the problem.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“What the hell, Todd?” I ask, even though he’s not here. “That’s it, Dad. Thanks.” I roll out from under the car, carefully setting the bottle on my desk. Staring at it, I try to think of any good reason it wouldn’t be what I put on the Challenger, but there’s only one. And it’s not a good one.
Dad perches on the edge of the desk, arms and ankles crossed the same way he has countless times before. Usually, it was because he was watching over me or Reed in the shop. Now, it’s because he’s watching to see how I’m going to handle this.
I grab my phone and push Todd’s contact number. While it rings, I breathe, attempting to settle my rage.
“Hello.” Todd sounds groggy, probably on pain meds. His burns were significantly worse than mine, but he’s recovering at home now after being discharged from the burn unit four days after the accident. We’ve already done the ‘are you okay . . . thank you’ phone call that was more than awkward for us both, but that’ll be nothing compared to this call.
“Todd.” One more breath.
“Rix?” He sounds more awake now, and nervous.
“Got your Challenger over here. Ed let me tow it so I could get the tank out of it and see what went wrong since I built it.” My voice is steady and calm, nothing like my pulse, which is racing so fast I’m feeling it in my legs where the burns are still healing.
“You do?” Todd says slowly. “Rix, I can explain—”
I cut him off, growling. “Who did your install? Because this isn’t my work.”
He sighs, the sound heavy even through the phone. “I did it. I talked to a couple of guys on a forum, and they told me what to get and how to install it to get a few more horses out of it. It was running perfectly. I don’t know what happened.”
He’s running from self-righteous to confused. I’m running from mad to fucking furious.
“Guys on a forum? Holy shit, man, you could’ve been seriously injured!” His burns aren’t anything to sneeze at, literally because it’s an infection risk according to my discharge paperwork, but people have died from their nitro going wrong. “Todd, you are a great racer. But that’s different from getting under the hood and you fucking know it. You don’t know shit about installing high-performance nitrous systems.”
There are some racers who can wrench, and some wrenchers who can race, but more often than not, the two don’t cross, especially not with the specs Todd runs. I’m an abnormality, and to be fair, I’m more of a mechanic who happens to be decent behind the wheel. I’m not even half as good of a driver as Todd is. But he’s shit for a mechanic.
“I’m sorry, Rix. Do you know what happened?”
He sounds genuinely apologetic and worried, though probably more about his Challenger than either of our injuries. That car is his baby the same way Foxy is mine. “Your safety disk burst because it was a cheap piece of shit and you were demanding too much of it. I told you that you were maxed.”
“Can you fix it?”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me and follow it up with a haughty sigh. “Of course I can. It’s gonna cost you, though, because I’ll have to pull the whole system and check everything for fire damage. And send it out for paint work.”
“Of course. Blank check, just fix it. Please.” I swear he sounds on the verge of tears, and I wonder what kind of pain pills he’s on. Good stuff, apparently.
“I’ll be in touch when it’s done.” I hang up, glaring balefully at the Challenger like it betrayed me.
Dad looks at me, lips curled in a smile. “You are something else, honey.”
The pride in the pat he gives my shoulder says that we’re okay. I’m so glad.
I thought that he would be mad and would be disappointed in me, and he was. But he’s getting over it quicker than I expected. Maybe we didn’t give each other enough credit? All I know is that I have my dad back, closer than ever before, and I still have racing, the garage, and Brody.
It couldn’t be more perfect.
“Where do you want to start?” Dad asks, excitement shining in his eyes.
Boys and their toys. Well, and me and my toys. We’ll do anything for them.
Chapter 29
Brody
“Mark, will you say grace?” Mama Louise says. Everyone bows their head and he repeats the same thing he does every night. But tonight, he adds to the end . . .
“ . . .and thank you for bringing more good people to the table. Amen.”
We lift our heads, and Mark doesn’t so much as look at Erica, but I know he was giving his stamp of approval. Not that I need it, and not that he hasn’t already given it and warned me not to fuck this up because she’s way out of my league, but it’s a kind gesture. Erica smiles his way, only to finally be greeted by his blank stare. Fucker.
We pass the platters around, serving ourselves meatloaf, green beans, new potatoes, and cornbread. “Do you have any Tabasco?” Erica asks Mama Louise.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
All around the table, brows knit together.
“Of course, dear.” Mama Louise grabs the Tabasco sauce from the pantry and hands it to Erica.
She starts shaking the bottle over her meatloaf, and I can’t bite my tongue any more as horror settles in my stomach. “What in the world are you doing?” I ask, editing myself for Mama Louise.
Erica looks at me, attitude and challenge in her expression. “You put ketchup on yours. I put Tabasco on mine.”
“That’s disgusting,” Cooper announces. “Ketchup and Tabasco.”
Brutal jumps in. “This coming from a kid who puts ranch on literally everything.”
Erica cuts off a too-big bite with her fork and moans loudly as she eats. “Mmm, delicious as always, Mama Louise. I think this is even better than Hank’s. Especially with the little extra kick added.” She’s proud of herself, her smile so big I can nearly see the food in her mouth.
“Thank you, Rix.”
As she cuts another bite, she adds, “Know what else is good, Cooper?” She’s got his attention now. “Ice cream with popcorn sprinkles.”
“Can we try that, Mom?” he instantly begs Allyson.
There is zero shame or regret on her face until Allyson says yes. “Of course, Cooper. Rix can make you some tonight after we play cornhole. Bruce and I need to go over and check the progress on the house, so that’d be perfect.”
Well, shit. Erica just walked us into getting cockblocked by a kid. And I know damn well that Brutal and Allyson aren’t checking the progress of their house in the dark. I guess that’s how they avoid being heard fucking . . . they get someone else to watch Cooper and take off in the truck. More than I need to know about my brother, but I’m damn sure storing that trick away for Erica and me. And also, I’m never getting in Brutal’s truck again.