Page 4 of Tempted By the Single Dad Mechanic
Chapter 2 - Casey
Riley's humming the theme song from some cartoon I can't identify. She goes through phases, and I've learned to just nod along when she explains the complex lore of animated characters, and I'm watching Morgan Fletcher through the window of the tow truck as I pull her Civic into the lot.
She's still sitting in the same chair, phone in her hand, but she's not looking at it. She's staring at nothing, and there's something about the expression on her face that makes me want to question her.
I know that look. I've seen it in the mirror often enough. It's the look of someone who's lost something and hasn't figured out how to stop looking for it.
I park the truck and unhook her car, rolling it into the second bay. The Honda's seen better days. There's a dent in the rear bumper, a crack in the passenger side mirror, and the paint is faded in that way that says it's spent a lot of time in the sun. But it's clean, or at least as clean as a car can be when you're living in it.
And she is living in it. I could tell the moment I opened the door to put it in neutral. The back seat is packed with bags, a pillow, and a blanket folded neatly in the corner. There's a cooler on the floor and a box of granola bars on the dash.
She's not just passing through. She's surviving.
I close the bay door and head back inside, where Riley has apparently decided to give Morgan a full rundown of her day.
"—and then Jacob said his dad could beat up anyone's dad, and I said my dad could probably beat up his dad because my dad lifts really heavy car parts, and then Miss Amy said we shouldn'ttalk about dads beating each other up, so we talked about Mr. Shellby instead."
Morgan is nodding like this is a perfectly reasonable conversation. "That sounds like a good compromise."
"That's what I said!" Riley throws her hands up. "But Jacob still thinks his dad is stronger."
"Well," Morgan says thoughtfully, "maybe they're both strong in different ways."
Riley considers this. "That's what Miss Amy said."
"Miss Amy sounds smart."
"She's okay. She doesn't let us have candy, though."
I clear my throat, and they both look up. "Car's in the bay. I'll take a look in a minute, but I need to finish up the oil change first."
Morgan stands immediately, smoothing down her shirt like she's been caught doing something wrong. "Of course. I can wait outside if it's easier."
"You're fine," I say, and I mean it. There's something about the way she talked to Riley, patient and genuine, like she actually cared about the answer, that makes me want to tell her she can stay as long as she needs. "Riley likes the company. God knows I'm not much of a conversationalist when I'm elbow-deep in an engine."
"Daddy says bad words when he drops tools," Riley adds.
"Riley."
"You do."
Morgan's trying not to smile. I can see it in the way her lips press together, the slight crinkle at the corners of her eyes.
"Okay, yes, sometimes I say bad words," I admit. "But we don't repeat them."
"I know," Riley says, rolling her eyes in a way that's far too advanced for a four-year-old. "Because then you'll take away TV time."
"Exactly."
I head back into the garage, leaving the door open so I can hear if Riley decides to launch into another story. The oil change only takes another ten minutes. I'm just finishing up when I hear Morgan laugh at something Riley said, and the sound is... nice. Warm. The kind of laugh that makes you want to know what was funny.
I wipe my hands and move to her Civic, popping the hood.
It doesn't take long to confirm what I suspected. The timing belt is shredded, which means the engine likely has valve damage. I check the transmission fluid while I'm at it. It's dark and smells burnt.
This car isn't just broken. It's done.
Fuck.
