Page 1 of Cover Up

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“I think I’m old. This qualifies me for being old, right?”

Felix offered Jamie a crooked smile. “Aren’t you barely twenty?”

Jamie huffed. “Twenty-four, thank you. And feeling old as hell. One beer and I can’t drive.”

The guys laughed, and Harley leaned over, clapping his massive hand over Jamie’s shoulder, giving him a tender shake. “You’re alright, bud. Even fetuses have low tolerance sometimes.”

Jamie flushed a deeper red than the beer had already caused and flipped him off before curling his hand around his pint glass. With a massive grin, he tipped it back and finished off what was left. “Who’s driving me?”

In spite of the fact that he wasn’t drinking, it was a no from Felix. He hadn’t had the luxury of owning a driver’s license in years. Hell, he could barely remember what it was like getting behind the wheel of a car.

Then again, he could hardly remember most things from his past anymore.

That was life before the Incident, as he called it in his head. Back in LA, the man he was before the seizure took him out at the knees felt like a fever dream. Like an old movie he’d watched while stoned out of his mind instead of a life he’d once lived.

His brain was still healing—at least, that’s what his neurologist insisted—and he was making occasional progress whenever he went in for his checkups. His medication was helping with his seizures, and he hadn’t had another one like the seizure that had sent him hurtling into another universe.

But he’d never be the same again. He’d never be able to walk into a room and immediately recognize the people in it without help. He’d always have to leave himself little notes around his house so he remembered to take his meds, and do his laundry, and eat, and shower.

And he would always live with the fear that the next grand mal would leave him nothing more than an empty shell.

He never said that aloud, of course. Not to himself, and especially not to his tattoo family, though he knew damn well they wouldn’t be cruel about it. No, they’d sit and listen to him vent. Someone would offer to give him pain therapy in the form of new ink, and Linc would probably try to pierce something. They’d get food from Jeremiah’s restaurant next door. Zeke would force him to eat too much cake, and they’d all start telling him embarrassing stories so he wouldn’t feel like such a freak.

The thought was nice, but the kindness felt strangely unrealistic. And in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he was ready to let his guard down, no matter how much they insisted they cared about him.

Felix sipped on his tonic again, grimacing at the bitter taste of underripe lime, which was a real goddamn shame, considering they lived in the Keys. But it was Jeremiah’s bar, so it felt wrong to complain, considering how well he’d managed to fit in with them.

And how happy he made Felix’s best friend, especially now that the two were shacking up together and Felix was finally starting to trust himself to live alone. Mostly.

There was a knock on the counter, and Felix looked over at Theo, the Deaf pilot who had also integrated himself into their group in ways Felix hadn’t been expecting. He waved his hand, trying to get everyone’s attention. ‘I can give rides. I’m not drinking.’

Felix followed the signs slowly, his brain processing them at a speed that he knew probably pissed the guy off, but Theo never judged him for his shitty progress. He insisted that he didn’t give care so long as everyone was trying, and Felix was. But his brain struggled with the most simple things, and learning a new language was starting to feel beyond him.

It took him a second to realize that most of the guys were getting up, and he stared at his drink again, unsure if he was ready to go. He loved hanging out with his friends, but he was just starting to enjoy a real and honest sense of independence, and he wanted to prove to himself he didn’t need to rely on the guys for everything.

A hand fell on his arm, and Felix jumped, turning his gaze up to see Max smiling down at him.

“Come on. There’s room in Theo’s car.”

Felix shook his head. “I’m gonna hang.”

Max’s brow furrowed the way it did when he was worried about him—which was still too often for Felix’s liking. “Want me to stay? I don’t mind if you want company.”

“No,” Felix said in a rush, then tried to soften his tone. “Seriously, I’m good. I’ll call a Lyft or something when I’m done.”

Max nodded, then wrapped fingers around the back of Felix’s neck, squeezing in a quick goodbye. The guys filtered out slowly after that, and Felix was eventually on his own with Jeremiah at the very end of the bar, doing some work on his laptop. Felix had no idea if Jeremiah even knew he was there, but if he did, he said nothing and continued on with his work.

Felix appreciated the space and the silence. It was a rarity in the shop since everyone was in each other’s business all the damn time. Felix knew he wasn’t being singled out, which did help, but he still felt a little…lost and uncertain about where he belonged.

Everything in his life was good, but it was so damn different since moving to Key Largo. Working in LA had been hectic and loud—everything was all go all the time. Bonsai was one of those old neighborhood shops with constant music blasting and locals filtering in and out all day long.

They had a pool table and darts, and friends of friends would just hang around for hours, their voices filling up all the empty corners.

Felix didn’t hate it, but he never quite felt like he fit in. He’d apprenticed under Paris for a bit and then under Max, and those two made him feel more at home than anyone else. And when Felix had been taken down by the seizure, they were the two people who showed up for him and got him back on his feet. When he was so damn sure he was going to lose everything, they made sure he never gave up.

But it was still a lot. He was still the shy kid from a busted-ass home with no real concept of how to care about other people. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to last in a place like that. It was too much, and he wasn’t strong enough to keep going for much longer. He hadn’t told anyone at the shop what was going on with his mom—that she was constantly threatening to have him locked up for the rest of his life—but he was starting to believe her.

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