Page 43 of Speeding Hearts

My phone buzzed. Dad again.

I tensed my jaw but nodded, relieved to have an out.

“I’ll see you,” I said to Stella. I turned before she could respond.

* * *

The cool darknessof Oak Bend Automotive, with its smell of oil and engine grease, was a welcome respite from the ravages of my head and heart. Stu, thank God, didn’t say anything about my being late, just handed me the clipboard and pointed to an ancient Studebaker in the first bay, brought in by an old farmer who’d said he only took it out a couple times a year.

I cranked open the hood of the old car.

“Penelope?” Stu said, heading over to a slim woman with golden brown skin and warm eyes.

“Thank you so much for seeing me,” she said. “It’s been making this weird noise since yesterday.”

She looked like the kind of easy, kind customer I would normally be happy to deal with. But today, I couldn’t handle anyone. Not even Stu.

He seemed to sense I needed to be on my own and quietly took on handling the woman—and all the other customers—directly.

Working on the old engine was a good distraction, even though it still let my mind wander dangerously.

This morning, when I’d gone in to check on Dad, we’d gotten into a huge fight. Not that anyone outside the door of the apartment would have known that’s what was going on. Our fights consisted of mostly us huffing around each other in silence, with the occasional spitfire of words tossed back and forth.

I was usually in a foul mood when I came over to Dad’s—something about going to the surliest, most cantankerous man in Oak Bend to help keep him alive didn’t bring out the best in me, especially not with our long history of butting heads. But Dad noticed right away that I was in a worse mood than usual. Instead of giving me space as I did his laundry, tidied up the weekend’s dishes in the sink, and cooked him a poached egg and toast, he followed me around, pointing out everything I was doing wrong.

Finally, I told him to sit the hell down at his table and dropped the plate in front of him with a clank.

I headed to the door, that storm cloud a raging darkness now, thundering right through my chest.

“Is it Victoria?” Dad said as I pulled on my boots.

“What?”

“That’s got you so pissy. She was over here this weekend, you know.”

“What?” I froze. “What was she doing here?”

“She came to see you. Right around the time you’re usually here giving me grief about how I need to keep better food in the fridge, and how you’re going to have to go to the store again, and you won’t be here forever, and all that shit.”

I almost laughed. “I don’t sound like that.”

Dad just arched an eyebrow as he took a giant bite of his egg on toast.

I guess maybe I did sound like that, when I was over here.

“That’s what you always sounded like on Sunday nights,” I said. “You were always such an ass the night before you had to go back to work.”

Dad took another bite, considering. “I never wanted to run that garage.”

I blinked, taken aback. “What? You were the one who opened it up.”

“Sometimes you gotta do what you don’t feel like. Especially when you’ve got mouths to feed.”

I bristled, the anger that had been pushed aside for my curiosity back in force. “Sorry we were such a burden on you.”

Dad said nothing, just took a sip of the coffee I’d made for him to his specifications—shoe polish thick.

Even now, I couldn’t shove off the sting at him not bothering to care about how he’d made me and Mom feel. I should be over it. It was ancient history, but his silence was like a slap in the face.

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