The garage floor is blurry through my bloodshot eyes, but I push the broom across the concrete floor, sweeping up the shattered pieces of my cell phone as best I can. If only it were this easy to clean up a shattered heart, but that fucker is bleeding out inside my chest so hard, not even a shop mop could soak it up.

Since Wendy left yesterday, I’ve done my best to numb myself with whiskey and more whiskey. It was a shit plan that worked for shit. The only thing it gave me was severe dehydration and a hangover from hell. I finally rolled out of bed around two, stood under the shower until we ran out of hot water, then chugged a couple bottles of Gatorade before coming out here to clean up and to clear my head. So far, I’ve only managed one of those things.

“Want help with that?”

I don’t even bother looking up at Tink as I push the debris into a dustpan. “No, I got it.”

“Peter, listen—”

Before she can launch into whatever speech she’s got planned—one that no doubt includes how I’m better off without Wendy—I stop her. “I appreciate you wanting to help, but I’m not really fit for company right now, and I’m sure as hell not in the mood to talk.”

I shuffle over to the garbage, where she happens to be standing, and dump the remnants of my phone into the large barrel.

“Then let’s not talk,” she says, a second before she grabs my face and kisses me, full on the mouth.

In some weird Twilight Zone shit, I float outside my body and look down at the two of us with our lips locked like this is a strange riddle I’m supposed to solve. Why is Tinker Bell kissing me? Better yet, why the fuck am I letting her?

My brain finally fires up and yanks me back into my body. Grabbing Tink by the shoulders, I hold her out at arm’s length. “What the hell are you doing?”

She steps back even farther, her hands covering her mouth, and her eyes blown wide like she’s just seen a ghost. “Oh shit,” she says in a shaky voice. “Shit, Peter, that was awful.”

My knee-jerk reaction is to take offense until I remember that hell yeah it was. “Of course, it was fucking awful, Tink, you’re like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“Because I had to know if he was right, and he was! Shit, shit, shit.”

Am I still drunk? Is that why I can’t follow along with what’s happening? Jesus, I’m never drinking whiskey again. “Who was right? About what? Would you please stop pacing and fucking talk to me?”

“I screwed up. I screwed up bad, and you’re going to be so angry with me.”

“Come on, sprite, why would I—” When she stops wearing a path in the concrete and slides her misty eyes to the Bel Air, my throat seizes up. “No,” I manage to grind out. “You didn’t.”

She drops her head and swipes at her cheeks, but I don’t pay attention because what she’s implying sinks in more and more. Every passing second is another shovel of coal tossed on the fire burning inside me until it’s a raging inferno to rival the ones in hell.

“Tell me you didn’t fuck with that shipment.” When she doesn’t say anything, I snap. “Tell me!”

Her head whips up, and somewhere in my brain, there’s a tiny space not consumed with rage that sees the tears streaming down her pale cheeks and the look of torment on her face. But my normal concern for her is overshadowed by the sting of betrayal, and I hold my ground.

“I can’t!” she finally shouts back. “I can’t because that’s exactly what I did. I intercepted the shipment and paid the driver to take it away, so you couldn’t finish the car.”

Her words are like a stick of dynamite being tossed into the middle of my internal fire. All the pain and loss from the last eighteen hours—the pain and loss I’m destined to feel the rest of my life without Wendy—compresses into a cannon ball of volatile emotions that crashes through me. Roaring, I let it explode through my fist and punch the front of my tool chest. My knuckles blow open, but I don’t feel any pain. Yet. Adrenaline is a wonderful thing, but the torn skin and blood means I’ll be hurting plenty later.

“Why, Tink?” I ask, the words cutting my throat as I force them out. “Why would you do this?”

“Because I thought I was in love with you. I wanted you to be with me, not her, and I knew if you screwed this up that she’d leave for good.”

She leans back against a beam to slide to the floor and props her elbows on her knees, dropping her head in her hands. Suddenly, I’m just as drained, following suit as I collapse onto the metal folding chair. It doesn’t matter what Tink did. The damage is done, and I’m not completely blameless.

I should’ve ordered everything five weeks ago, right after we bought the car. I should’ve worked on it more often. The rest of the crew could’ve taken care of things at LB while I worked solely on the Bel Air. I chose to slack off and wait until the last minute for everything. This was my responsibility, and I didn’t take it seriously enough. I’m just as much at fault for the car not being done, if not more.

“I’ve never understood why you hated her so much. When we were young, I thought you were afraid she’d take your place in the group, but I always made sure you knew that would never happen. Then maybe I thought it was the mother thing—which I get—so I asked her to stop pretending that with you, and she did. But that didn’t make things better either. Can you just explain it to me, please? Because for the life of me, I can’t fucking understand it.”

“I told you,” she says, “I thought I was in love with you. But now I know that I was confusing regular love with romantic love.”

“What brought on this revelation after all these years?”

Her eyes dart to the side, and she chews on her lip for a second before answering. “Someone helped me understand the difference. It’s not important who.”

I almost press her about it, but she’s entitled to her privacy. It doesn’t matter other than I’d like to thank whoever it is. Again, this is an area I failed a woman I love. I can’t blame myself for not knowing it before, but as soon as Wendy said something about Tink’s feelings for me, I should’ve taken her aside and addressed it. She deserved more than me pushing it off and assuming things would work themselves out.

“I’m sorry, sprite. I should’ve realized something was up and talked to you.”

She shrugs. “I should’ve manned up years ago and told you how I felt—or thought I felt—so we’re equally dumb.”

If I wasn’t so fucked up over all this, I’d laugh at her usual frankness. “So now that you know what’s what, are you finally okay with Wendy?”

It might not matter one way or the other. I still can’t finish the car, and I still don’t deserve her. But I hate the thought of anyone not liking the woman I love, whether it affects her or not.

Tension seeps back into Tink’s body, and her hands curl into fists where they hang between her legs. “She’s still not one of us, Peter. She’s always been an outsider, pretending to fit in.”

That gets my hackles up. Pushing to my feet, I cross to stand over her. “Really. Would an outsider have risked herself to save Lily before we even knew her? Would she have snuck food out of her house every week, so when we didn’t get supper, we’d at least have something to fill the holes in our bellies?”

Tink’s gaze drops to the floor, but I’m not done. Not by a long shot.

“Would she have risked punishment and lied about spending the weekend at a friend’s house, so she could hide in the school to take care of Curly when he was so sick, he could barely move? I can keep going, you know. Example after example of how she took care of the boys and made them feel loved—something we sorely lacked in every other aspect of our lives. You and Hook were the only ones to never let her in. But that’s not on her.” I lock eyes with her. “It’s on you.”

She’s quiet and still, but I don’t prod her for a response. I give her the time she needs to process. Slowly, her hands unfurl, her shoulders relax, and she expels a heavy breath as she raises her head, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks. “You’re right. I’ve always been jealous of her and her brothers. They had everything we didn’t, and it never seemed fair that she could have all of that and have what we had, too. But I was wrong. Wendy deserves her spot in our family. I’m so sorry.”

Sighing, I reach down and pull her up into a fierce hug and let her cry it out against me. I’ve been with this girl from the time she was a baby. I’ve changed her diapers, fed her a bottle, stayed up with her when she cried at night, talked her through her nightmares, and taught her how to walk. Delia did as little as she could get away with when it came to our tiny fairy, and we’d all loved her from the first time we laid eyes on that blond tuft of hair and those beautiful green eyes.

We’re all a product of how we’ve been raised, one way or another. What matters most is how we grow and learn from our mistakes. How we grow up even when the lure of perpetual childhood is a temptation almost too strong to resist.

If this second chance with Wendy has taught me anything, it’s that we can’t take things for granted. We can’t be happy that something’s been given to us and not do the work to keep it. If we don’t do our part to earn the good things in our life, eventually, we’ll lose them.

Misery squeezes my lungs, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Without Wendy, I might never breathe easy again. There’s nothing to do now but adjust and work to make things better.

It’s time I grow up. It’s time I re-prioritize things, starting with the shop, so we can expand, do more rebuilds, and bring in more money. I need to set a better example for the others and show them that hard work and responsibility are more important than fucking off and having fun. With the right schedule, it’s possible to do both, so that’s what I’m going to figure out.

And most importantly, I’m going to work to make this up to Wendy. I don’t know how, and I don’t know how long it will take me to prove myself to her, but it doesn’t matter. A life working to get into her good graces again is better than a life where I’ve given up on us.

Pulling back, Tink gives me a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve been a bad fairy, huh?”

I wipe the tears from her cheeks and muster a half-hearted grin for her sake. “It’s okay, sprite, I forgive you. I even understand where you were coming from. And you’re not bad, you just misbehaved. A lot. Which is why you’re going to apologize to Wendy for treating her like you have since you met.”

She steps back and nods as she wipes an arm under her nose in a move that makes her look like the scrappy little girl of years ago. “I will. I’ll tell her what I did, too.”

“Don’t do that,” I say, scratching at the several days of beard I’ve neglected. “No reason for her to hate both of us, and you wouldn’t have been able to screw things up if I’d been more on top of my game. This is my mess to clean up.”

“But—”

“First thing I need to do is finish the car as soon as I can. Since the driver didn’t report where he dumped the shipment, I’ll have to re-order everything.” My wheels start spinning, trying to troubleshoot this clusterfuck. Maybe I can call and make arrangements to pick up the things I need and get it faster.

Tink shakes her head. “No, I—”

“Shit, I need a new phone. Let me borrow your—”

“Peter!”

“What?” The rumbling exhaust of a diesel dually reaches me just before Lily’s Dodge Ram 3500 pulls in front of the garage with her racing trailer in tow. I frown as she hops out of the cab. “Hey, Lil, you dropping off an old stock car for the boys to play with?”

Her brown eyes cut to her friend, brows raised. “You didn’t tell him?”

“I’ve been trying,” Tink grumbles.

The girls walk to the back of the trailer, and I follow, curious what the big secret is. Lily drops the ramp to reveal a gigantic crate stamped with the name of the parts company I ordered everything from on the side.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” Tink says sheepishly. “I sent it over to Lil’s garage and paid the driver not to report where he took it.”

The edge of my anger over the whole situation flares back to life, but I tamp it down. It’s over and done with, and Tink’s trying to make it up to me. And now that I have all the parts I need to finish the Bel Air, I can try to make this up to Wendy. It might not be enough to win her back, but I won’t give up until I do.

I’ll prove to her over and over that I am the man she can count on. A man who takes his responsibilities seriously, who has his priorities in order, and a man who can still take time out to help her live in the moment and appreciate the magic the world has to offer.

“Ladies, let’s get to work,” I say, hope filling my chest for the first time in a week. “We have a car to finish. Then I need to find my kneepads, because I have a ton of groveling to do.”