Dirty Thoughts (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

“W
E GOT MATCHING
scars.” Max grinned and touched his head to Asher’s. “Head-trauma power!”

Asher laughed.

Cal didn’t find any of it funny. “You each took about five years off my life, so I’ll thank you not to make a joke of it, assholes.”

The whole family was over at Cal’s house to see Asher as he recovered. Max had driven down with Lea. Gabe and Julian were there, even though Cal spent most of his time glaring at Gabe, who stood in a corner looking uncomfortable.

Julian sat on the couch with Asher, their shoulders touching, and Julian looked so genuinely broken up about Ash’s injuries that Cal decided he’d let the brothers live.

It’d been three days since Asher got home from the hospital. Three days since Cal had managed to fuck up his relationship with Jenna again. When he finally got his head together, he replayed the conversation. Over and over and over again. And each time was another cut in his skin. He wished he had more time after Asher’s injuries to get his head together before he spoke to Jenna. He didn’t think the outcome of his conversation with her would have been any different, but maybe he would have made more sense.

And now, she was everywhere in this house. The bed, the kitchen, the shower, the couch.

He’d finally found a place where nobody was around, yet he was going to have to move again to be alone. Because this house was far from empty.

He’d been in a shit mood. A throwback to his early twenties, when the pain of losing Jenna was still fresh. Asher seemed half scared of him. What did it matter anyway? He’d be going home to his mom soon. Brent had called him on his mood, but then Brent told him he was a grumpy asshole every day, so Cal didn’t think that counted.

The front door opened, and Jack walked in, a cap pulled low on his forehead, gray eyes dilated from the harsh sun outside. He didn’t say a word to anyone, instead walking directly to Asher and hauling him upright with a grip on the kid’s biceps. The chatter in the room dimmed as Jack’s eyes roamed Asher, taking in the stitches and the arm cast and a couple bruises and road rash.

Asher’s eyes were huge, staring up at Jack. The big man’s jaw clenched, and he patted Asher roughly on the back of his neck. He let him go, and as Asher sank slowly back onto the couch next to Julian, Jack’s head whipped to Gabe. “You!” he shouted and advanced on him like a predator.

“Oh, shit,” Gabe said under his breath and squeezed himself into the wall like he could melt into the plaster.

Cal heaved a sigh and went after his dad, because blood was a bitch to clean up.

“Dad,” Cal began as he reached his dad’s side, but the guy had his finger in Gabe’s face. And Gabe was pale and quivering.

“You little shithead,” Jack said. “Please explain why the hell the kid’s got a fucking broken arm and had to spend the night in the hospital.”

Gabe licked his lips. “Well, uh, he fell off the back of the my bike, and—”

“I know that, ya moron. I want to know how it happened. You can’t drive the thing?”

“No, I . . . I, um, had a problem with it, and I took it to a shop in Brookridge, but they, uh, fucked up, I guess. The thing backfired, and—”

“Why didn’t you give it to Cal to fix?”

Jack’s question made Cal pause. Since when did his dad take any interest in Cal’s ability to fix motorcycles?

Gabe’s eyes shifted to Cal, like he wanted help with this conversation. Cal just stared back at him. He’d been under his dad’s evil eye enough. Someone else’s turn. And no way was he helping Gabe after what he did. Gabe heaved a sigh. “Cal was busy, and I heard this guy did good work but clearly not.”

Cal stood motionless as Jack turned his head, piercing him with his eyes that were so like his own.

Jack shook his head, exhaling slowly, and then walked away. Gabe looked like he’d dodged a bullet. And Cal wasn’t sure what to think.

He followed his dad, who’d gone out to the garage to get a beer out of the ice chest. The door was open, the sun lighting the inside of the garage. The chrome of Cal’s bike gleamed in the middle, like a huge metal elephant. His dad took a drag of his beer and then lit up a cigarette. Cal stared at it longingly. He could smoke again now, right? No reason to quit; no one to quit for.

Cal scratched the patch on his arm. “What was that look for in there?”

Jack took another pull of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before sticking his lit cigarette between his lips. “I’m not so good at this.”

Cal waited.

Jack hollowed his cheeks and blew the smoke out, staring out of the garage doors. “Takes me time to get used to new things. Thought Max would be working with us, but he ain’t. He’s off working as a big-shot teacher, and that’s great. But it threw me for a loop that he didn’t want to work at the garage with us.”

That had been a point of contention when Max was a senior in college. Cal thought he’d get a business degree and then come work at the garage, but Max had other plans. It’d taken his being laid up in the hospital to get the guts to tell Dad what he really wanted to do. And it’d taken his son getting injured for Dad to accept it.

Again, Cal waited.

“So I wasn’t prepared for things to change again.” Jack’s jaw was tight as hell, grinding his molars. Cal could imagine this admission was a little painful. “I like your tools with me and your body in the bay beside mine. I know I can rely on you.”

Cal’s body went hot. “Thanks, Dad.”

“So I’m stubborn. I know that. And every time you asked about changing things, about working on bikes, I dug my heels in more.”

Cal held his breath, waiting to hear what came next, because this seemed really important.

“So if you wanna hang out your shingle at the shop, then we’ll make it work.”

Cal’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t see a need for it until today. But I’m not having the people of this town go to some hack. You know what you’re doing.”

Cal blinked. “You really changed your mind?”

Jack squinted at him. “I did. I’m old and set in my ways. Cut me some fucking slack.”

Cal stared at the stained concrete under his boots. He knew a thing or two about being stubborn. Change sucked; he got that. Hell, that’s what he’d hid behind to drive away Jenna.

The realization flushed through his body like a bucket of ice. He was just like his fucking dad, wasn’t he? A gruff mechanic who wasn’t willing to take on anything new because of the fear of the unknown. And hell, a couple of weeks ago, Cal was well on his way to smoking a pack a day like his dad. He’d spent all his life, determined not to become his father, and that’s what he’d become.

Alone. Stubborn.

An asshole.

Oblivious to Cal’s crisis, Jack took another pull of his beer. “You’re all assholes for riding bikes, but at least you’ll all be safe assholes if you fix shit.”

Call tried to focus back on the conversation. “Appreciate the confidence. Dad, I’m still going to be in the shop. I’ll still work on cars with you.”

Jack picked at the label on his bottle. “Guess you’re right.”

“Yeah, I
am
right.”

“Need a new hire.”

“Brent said we can afford it, and I’ve actually been gathering résumés.” Jack shot him a sharp look. Cal decided not to mention the place he’d been about to rent. “Just in case.”

Jack was willing to risk this, take on a whole new business after forty years in the business. Cal had thrown in the towel and declared bachelorhood at thirty. What the hell was his problem?

Gravel crunched under tires, and Cal looked up to see a car pulling into his driveway. He squinted but didn’t recognize the car, so he walked out of the garage, his dad on his heels.

A silver sedan parked and a sandaled foot stepped out of the driver’s side. When the woman stood up, she brushed her brown hair over her shoulder and looked right at Jack.

“Hey, Jill,” his dad said. And Cal almost swallowed his tongue.

He’d been a kid the last time he’d seen his mom. And she’d been that young woman in his mind this whole time. Jill now was . . . well, she was older, with fine lines in her brow and crinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her hair was streaked with gray. She walked slowly toward them, and Cal was surprised at how short she was. Must be why Cal wasn’t anywhere near as tall as his dad.

“Hey, Jack,” she said, her voice wobbly. “How are you?”

“Can’t complain.”

Jill’s eyes were on Cal now, taking him in, those warm brown eyes—so like Max’s and Asher’s—coasting from head to toe. “Calvin,” she said, a little in awe.

He could only nod. He’d thought he’d feel . . . sadness. Or anger. Or something when he saw her again. But really, he felt only a mild curiosity.

Cal looked at Jack out of the corner of his eye. He did look sad. And Cal wondered if he still loved Jill, despite what she’d done to his family.

A door opened behind Cal, and then a deep voice said, “Well, holy shit.”

Cal braced himself, because the brother with no filter had just appeared.

Jill’s smile was shaky. “Hi, Brent.”

“An appearance! By God, let’s make a float and parade down Main Street.”

“Shut up,” Jack growled.

Cal elbowed Brent in the stomach, who made a small oomph sound but then kept his mouth shut.

Jill’s eyes flicked to Cal, her nerves clear in her rigid posture. “Is Asher here?”

“You interested in seeing him now?” Cal asked.

Jill wrung her hands. “I just . . . I figured he was in good hands, but then a friend said . . . well, she said I should go see him.”

It was amazing how this woman could have zero maternal instinct. Jenna had more sense when it came to Asher than his own fucking mother. She’d would make a fine mother.

“I-I’m trying,” Jill muttered, almost to herself.

Cal didn’t know what to say to that. He was past the point that trying would make a fuck of a difference in his life, but Asher still craved attention from his mom. So Cal turned to walk back into the house. “He’s inside. Come on in.”

Even though it was awkward as hell to have her there, Cal knew it was worth it when Asher’s face lit up when he spotted Jill. “Mom!” he cried, standing up. “You came!”

Jill’s smile wasn’t forced anymore. “Yeah, I’m, uh, here.” Her eyes darted around, to Max, whose jaw was hanging on the floor. Her smile fell a little. But Asher was walking briskly toward her, his arms already rising from his sides to embrace her.

Cal looked around—at his family, his employees—and his heart ached, because he knew Jenna should be here. Asher had asked about her, but Cal had been honest, telling him they’d broken up, and the kid looked as upset as Cal.

When Asher sat down on the couch with his mom, Cal heard her say, “Honey, I need to talk to you about your father.”

Cal didn’t want to hear the rest. He made his way to his back door to retreat to his deck and tried to tune out their murmured words, not wanting to hear that Asher was going to pack up and go home.

And then the kid’s voice, shaky but firm, said, “No, I want to stay here.”

Cal stopped beside the couch and stared.

Jill’s eyes were wide as she shifted her gaze from her youngest son, to her oldest, and then back again. “But, sweetie—”

“I want to stay with Cal,” Asher said, his voice no longer shaking. “I like it here. I’ve made friends. I want to go to high school here.”

“Your home is—”

“Here. I’ve never felt more at home than I do here. I love you, Mom. But nothing’s tying you to Virginia if you’ve left Dad. How about you move here?”

There was a coughing sound behind them, and Jack pounded his chest and then strode off into the kitchen, his boots heavy on Cal’s hardwood floor.

Jill watched her ex-husband’s retreating back. “Ash—”

“Can I stay here, Cal?” Asher turned those deep brown eyes up at him.

And Cal couldn’t move. Those were Max’s eyes, the same ones he’d looked into when the kid was a baby. Those were Asher’s eyes, the same ones that had looked at him as a surrogate father for the last month or so.

Cal could tell him no, that he’d be better off with his mom, that it was less complicated for everyone. That Cal didn’t want him or this responsibility or fucking any of it.

But that would be a lie.

As worry seeped into Asher’s gaze while Cal stayed silent, Cal realized how fucking stupid he was. “You want to?”

Asher stood up. “Of course.”

“But I did a shitty job, Asher. You got hurt on my watch.”

Asher smiled a little. “I got hurt because I did something dumb. If you’ll let me, I want to stay because I love this town and this family. You’ve been the best dad-slash-older brother I think I could ever have. I don’t want to give that up.” He picked at his cast. “Unless you don’t want me here. Then I’ll leave.”

He thought about life if Asher left. No more brownies. No more bath mats ruined from hair dye. No more John Hughes movie marathons.

Just . . . nothing. Nothing but him and his beer and his recliner and his job. He’d be able to work on motorcycles, but that goal didn’t seem so amazing anymore when he didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Fuck, he’d been an idiot.

He wasn’t tapped out. The reserve was there, always there, and it was constantly replenished by his own family. By Asher.

By Jenna.

Cal took a step forward and hugged the kid. “Of course I want you. If it’s okay with your mom, then you can stay.”

When they broke apart and looked down at Jill, there were tears in her eyes. “Of course I want you to be happy, Asher. And if that’s here, then that’s where you’ll stay.”

Asher fist-pumped his cast in the air. Cal had to walk away. He needed some alone time, so he continued out the back door and shut it firmly behind him. He stood on his deck and stared at the tree line, his fingers itching for a smoke. But he knew he wouldn’t pick one up again.

The door behind him opened and closed. Brent braced his hands on the railing, eyes on the skyline.

“You made the right decision about the kid,” Brent said after a long moment of silence.

Cal picked at a loose nail on the railing. “Do you think I’m like Dad?” he blurted.