Page 8 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

“Nope,” Mason said easily. “But Idothink you're about to give yourself a stroke.” He gestured toward my hands. “Pretty sure you bent that wrench.”

I looked down. Sure enough, my grip was tight enough to leave my knuckles white, and the wrench’s handle was slightly warped from the pressure.

Great.

I exhaled sharply, forcing my fingers to unclench.

Owen, ever the quiet one, leaned against the tool chest with his arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable expression of his. Not judgmental, not even concerned.

Just patient. Which was worse, honestly.

“I get why you're pissed,” Owen said, his voice steady. “Hell, Iampissed. But losing it isn’t going to fix anything.”

I clenched my jaw. He wasn’t wrong.

Didn’t mean I wanted to hear it.

Mason smirked. “Yeah, Ethan. Let’s be real, if someoneismessing with us, you storming around looking like you're about to punch a hole through the wall isn’t gonna help.”

I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake off the tension. “And what do you suggest, oh wise one?”

Mason tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. Step one: don’t have an aneurysm. Step two: accept that we’re gonna figure this out. Step three: eat something, ‘cause I know for a fact you haven’t had shit since breakfast, and you're even more of an asshole when you're hungry.”

Owen nodded. “He's not wrong.”

I shot him a dry look. “Whose side are you on?”

“Not a side thing,” Owen said simply. “It’s just a fact.”

Mason grinned. “Damn right it is.”

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. The anger hadn't fully settled, but the sharp edge of it had dulled under the weight of my brothers’ relentless practicality.

They weren’t wrong. Ididneed to calm down.

Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, Ethan, we all know this isn’t just about some loose lug nuts.”

I didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop him.

“This is about trust,” he continued. “About the shop. Aboutour grandfather.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw.

Mason rarely brought up our grandfather, but when he did, it was usually because he knew I needed to hear it.

“This business is our legacy,” Mason said, more serious than usual. “We’ve worked too damn hard for it to get screwed up now. That's why we’ve been ignoring that asshole real estate guy. Hank.”

“Lawson,” I filled in for him.

“Right. That's why we’ve been ignoring his requests to buy this place, to add it to his portfolio so he canchange Medfordor whatever it is he wants to do. Because this isours.”

Owen nodded. “Which is why wewillfix it.”

That landed in a way I wasn’t expecting.

For so long, I had taken on the weight of the business, of keeping everything together.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust my brothers. I did. But responsibility had been burned into me since the day our grandad died.

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