“This is the beginning, man.” Alec gets into my car, waving at his wife and baby as he turns the crank to roll down his window.

It’s an unseasonably warm day, and my chest fills with warmth when I see his baby waving at him. I flick my cigarette out the window and roll it up.

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, turning down the radio. Alec always comes out with stuff like that. I think he could have been a poet in another life.

“Look around,” he says. He glances up through the windshield, at the limitless blue sky above us. “This is a fresh start. For both of us.”

I pull out of the parking space slowly, my tires gripping the ground even through the puddles in the street. I hear the puddles splash as we roll away. I’m careful not to drive too fast. I want to be careful.

“I don’t want a fresh start,” I say. “I want things to be how they used to.”

A fresh start would mean putting away all of the time I’ve spent with Daisy - a fresh start would mean forgetting all of the happiness, the joy, the fucking heartbreak I’ve caused her. I don’t want to forget. I want those scars to remain. I want the reminder of what we’ve been through together.

I don’t want my time away from her to have been in vain. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want a fresh start. I want to pick up right here. I want to prove to her that she’s my girl, and I don’t want her to go one more day without my lips on hers.

And the next time I go to the police station for an appointment with my parole officer, I intend on speaking to her father. I want him to see me for who I am - a man who will work every single day to prove that I’m good enough for Daisy. I want him to see me for who I really am.

My head thrums with a nervous energy as we drive through town to the garage where we used to work together. We’re going there to get our old jobs back.

The ride is fast and we pass the time silently.

One of the conditions of my parole is that I find a job - and keep it.

I want to work in the garage again. It’s where I belong. It’s where Alec and I learned what we’re really good at.

I started as an apprentice, doing battery and tire installations, and quickly moved up to diagnosing mechanical issues and assisting with more complex problems.

By the time I had to leave, I was managing my own roster of clients and doing fixes on rare and antique cars in addition to completing oil changes for soccer moms.

When we arrive at the garage, I pull into a narrow space just outside and look up. It’s as though no time has passed at all. I feel that Alec and I belong here, and a wave of nostalgia hits my chest as we both get out and the car doors slam in unison behind us.

Bells chime as we pass through the front door, making our way into the narrow hall behind the entrance.

Our old boss looks up from the cash register and nearly does a double-take when he sees us.

“Boys?” He smiles wide and scratches his chin, shaking his head in disbelief. I feel my chest grow warm at the scent of this place, at seeing the old man who gave me a job when I was sixteen. All of those extra hours I spent at the garage helped me save mom’s house, too. But being here is also a reminder of how I ran from her, how I hid myself away and made excuses. It reminds me of how I should have been there when she finally passed.

“Sammy,” Alec says, clapping the old man’s back as he comes around to our side of the counter.

The old man steadies himself against the counter filled with air fresheners and cup holder inserts, grinning up at us.

“I haven’t seen you two in…how long has it been?”

“A year,” I say. I’m acutely aware of how much time has gone by. I know it as sure as I can tell the time by the length of the shadows falling across my yard.

The old man’s eyes widen slightly as he shakes his head.

“A year,” he says, a tone of defeat coloring his voice. “For you boys a year probably seems like a long time. When you get older, you’ll see that it goes by fast. That’s not to say I haven’t missed you, though.”

He starts toward the door at the end of the long hallway, into the garage. He’s always walked with a slight limp, caused by some injury a long time ago that he’s only alluded to and never explained to us, but now his gait is more damaged than it used to be.

“There’s a lot of work to be done, and I can’t do it all on my own,” he says.

We step into the garage, the smell of gasoline and motor oil making my heart ache for the past.

I let my eyes pass easily over the row of mini vans he has lined up at close intervals. There’s no interesting cars back here. It’s all newer models. I can tell just from looking that these are all easy jobs.

Alec steps forward, walking between two rows of vans and disappearing into the back of the garage. He’s looking at everything and nothing.

“It’s hard to find help,” the old man says, leaning on the wall with one hand. “Frankly, there aren’t too many people around town who can do what you can, Travis. And that’s caused me to lose business.”

“You’re capable,” I say, but the place looks like a mess. I don’t know if it’s because his health has deteriorated or because he isn’t as skilled as I once thought he was, but there’s not much going on here to make it look like a place I’d bring my ride.

“Look,” the man says, scrubbing the side of his face with an open palm. The lines in his forehead look deeper now, the lines around his eyes make him look like he hasn’t had a moment’s rest in the past year. “I know you had to go away for a while, but I know you’re a good kid. If you want your old job back, it’s yours. You too, Alec,” he adds, looking out at the rows of cars.

“I’m on probation right now, so I need to keep a good job. But it isn’t just for that,” I add. “I missed this damn place.”

He puts his hand out and we shake on it. A bittersweet hope fills my chest. I can do this. This will work.

A chime of bells cuts through our moment, and someone knocks at the door. The old man claps me on the back and smiles, turning his attention toward getting back out to help his customer.

The door swings closed behind me, muffling out the voices behind it. Alec comes over to me, appears from between a row of cars.

“We’re going to rule again, brother,” he says, leaning back on the hood of a car. “It’s going to be you and me again.”

I take a step toward him, shaking my head and smiling. I can’t help it. Things are starting to fall back into place.

I stand next to him, leaning against the car and crossing my arms in front of me, facing the grease-stained, dirty window.

Maybe I do need a new beginning; maybe Alec is right. Maybe instead of reminding myself of everything I’ve been through, I need to shrug it off and allow myself to breathe. Allow myself to carry on, go forward, and leave all my shit in the past. Maybe that’s where it belongs.

I close my eyes and lean back slightly on the hood of the car, allowing my mind to wander. It’s all for her - for Daisy. I can’t work out the best way to move forward. I can’t tell whether I need to keep reminding her of the good times we used to have, or if I should start fresh and show her all the happiness I can give her.

One thing is for sure - I need to give her back the ring. It belongs on her finger. She needs to wear it.

I need her in my bed, spread open and wanting more. Wanting only what I can give her.

“Um, Travis?” Alec interrupts my thoughts and I open my eyes, tearing myself away from thoughts of her. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “Friend of yours?”

Daisy’s father appears at the door, smiling and looking around the garage. When he sees me, his expression hardens and he freezes in place.

I can feel the anger coming off of him. He isn’t just disgusted with me for what he thinks I did - his feelings are red-hot, unwavering. His lips turn down into a scowl as he pushes a hand through his grey salt-and-pepper hair.

But he doesn’t scare me. Not one bit. Fuck, I’m not even mad at him. I’m not mad that he planted a seed of doubt in his daughter’s mind. I’m not mad that he thinks I’m not worthy of her.

Because he’s right. I’m not worthy. That’s not going to stop me from trying, though.

He walks over to me and Alec, leaving behind the old man. I know his car. It’s a flashy, white, expensive heap of metal.

“I’m here to pick up my car,” he says. “It’s the -”

“I know which one it is, Officer Mara,” I say coolly. I pass through the garage and go over to the old man, where he’s standing at the locker of keys. He retrieves Mr. Mara’s key from its hook and hands it to me.

I walk back over to Daisy’s father. We’re face to face now, and he isn’t bigger than me anymore. I’m not the teenager I used to be, the kid who drank too much and drove too fast and corrupted his daughter. I’m not the boy from the broken home, the boy who didn’t have a strong man to look up to, the boy he knew would break his daughter’s heart.

I am the man who broke his daughter’s heart. But I’m the only man who can make her happy.

“Let me bring the car out front for you,” I say. I don’t want it to come out harsh, and it doesn’t. I keep my words even and calm. Kind, even. Like he’s actually my customer and I’m delivering the best service to him that I can.

His expression softens beneath his harsh brow. His eyes are all Daisy’s. I can see the hurt behind them, too. The same hurt I saw in her eyes, I see in his.

“Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

He turns around slowly, like he wants to say something else to me, but keeps moving toward the door. I follow a few steps behind him and start to manually open the garage door, pumping the pulley and letting the chains from the ceiling draw up the heavy wood and steel door.

I pull his car out carefully and park it across the street. We trade places and he gets in, rolling the window down as he shifts into drive.

“Travis,” he says, looking up at me. He exhales deeply and shakes his head. “You really hurt her. You know that, right?”

I swallow thickly. Of course I know it. I hated myself every day for it.

I just nod my agreement, looking down the road as it curves out of sight. The morning is crisp even though it’s warmer than it has been, and the sky is light blue and cloudless. All I want to do is throw Daisy over my shoulder and take her away from here.

“I think it would be best if you just stay away from her.”

His words hit me like a fist to the gut. They knock the wind out of me. The way he was acting, I thought maybe he would allow me to put all of the bullshit behind me. Even though I don’t want to forget what happened, I want her to forget all the pain I caused. I need her. I want her. And she still wants and needs me.

But his words betray his true thoughts.

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry,” I reply. My words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the tension. But they do nothing to soften things between us. He holds his gaze on me, hard as steel.

“I don’t want to tell you again, son. You hurt her. You tore her apart. She almost dropped out of her master’s program. She’s lucky I got her the job at the station.”

“With all due respect,” I reply, my chest heating with anger, “I think she’s capable of getting a job on her own.”

He lets out a petulant laugh, his knuckles becoming white on the steering wheel.

“She only has that job because of my position there. She couldn’t get anything else. She didn’t even try. And that’s your fault,” he adds, his attention shifting from the road in front of him up to my eyes. “It’s your fault.”

I clear my throat and feel my fists clench and unclench.

“She can do whatever the hell she wants,” I say. I keep my voice steady and even, fighting to hide my anger.

“Don’t make me have to talk to you again,” he says, rolling up his window. He drives off, leaving me to stand in the middle of the road, alone with my anger. I pull a cigarette out of my pack and light up, sucking down the nicotine with unquenchable thirst. I need to steady my nerves.

A long, fast drive on a narrow, winding road sounds really fucking good right about now.