Page 80 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
But Nick wasn’t a stranger in town anymore. He was loved in this community. Prescott’s residents would support him if he started his own garage.
“You love it, Nick. I’ve never seen you this excited about your work. Why don’t you try it now?”
“I like the fire station. It feels good to be part of something that protects the community. My whole childhood was spent with guys who avoided the law and any type of authority. It feels good to embrace it instead of fight it. Plus, I get paid well and it’s fairly low stress most of the time.”
“But it’s not your passion.”
“No, it’s not. I enjoy the challenge of working on a car. It’s like putting a puzzle together. Making all the pieces fit.”
“Then do it.”
He shrugged. “Maybe someday.”
His deflection told me that he’d given that dream up ages ago. But I wasn’t going to stop encouraging him. I had abandoned one career path for another so I could pursue my dreams, and not once had I regretted my decision. It might take some time, but I was going to keep pushing until he had his dream job too.
Dash returned and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon and evening together. I enjoyed the time getting to know Dash and seeing Nick interact with a family member. He was caring and affectionate and it was obvious he would like to see Dash more often.
“Thanks, Brother,” Dash said, shaking Nick’s hand as he was leaving.
“Any time. It was good to see you.”
“Glad to have met you, Emmy. Get this douche bag to bring you up to Clifton Forge one of these days,” Dash told me.
“Thank you.” The chances of Nick taking me to his hometown were slim at best.
“Dad’s always bitching about having too much custom work to keep up with. Bet he’d ship a few cars here if you wanted a project to tinker with,” Dash told Nick.
I was pressed against Nick’s side with my arms wrapped around his belt. With the mention of their dad, tension radiated through his body.
“No thanks,” Nick said.
“That’s what I thought. Maybe one day you two can work through your fucking shit so I can see you more than once a year.”
“You know how I feel about all your club business. My stance hasn’t changed.”
“I think you don’t know shit about my club.”
“True. Let’s keep it that way,” Nick said. “Drive safe.”
Dash shook his head and strode to his truck.
As he roared down the drive, I thought it was such a shame to end his visit on a sour note. We’d had such a nice Sunday together, working on his car, grilling steaks for dinner, laughing and sharing stories. Now the day felt tainted.
“Are you okay?” I asked as we watched his brother leave.
“No. I shouldn’t have snapped. He always plays the middleman between Dad and me. I wish he’d realize that I can’t be around the old man. Just give it up.”
“I think he just misses you.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I miss him too.”
“He seems nice. I guess when you told me your family was in a motorcycle gang, I pictured a much scarier version of a brother. Someone dark and menacing.”
He scoffed. “That’s what’s scary, Emmy. Everything in their lives appears normal until the minute they’re taking a pipe wrench to a man’s body or holding a gun to your head.”
I shuddered at the mental image and Nick knew he had me freaked. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
