When I drive to Mancave the next morning, to talk to Kaden and get back to work, it is with a feeling of contentment I haven’t felt in a long while. A sense of relief, of pieces falling into place and forming a picture I can make sense of.

A picture I can work with, a picture of my life with Octavia, my kids, my mom, my brother, full of fucking sunshine.

I’m practically whistling as I park my truck and hop out, taking a moment to look at our shop. Hansen Brothers, it says in big black letters on the sign on top.

That’s us. We made it. We went through some hard times, but we’re here, with our families. Happy. It has to count for something, right? Has to mean something.

That we’ll stick together, no matter what, and make it through.

I head toward the shop, passing by two cars with their engines exposed, and spot Kaden from afar. He’s talking on the phone, a hand shoved through his hair that glints like silver in the morning light.

Heh. I’m the black sheep in a family of blonds. Kaden, Gigi, Merc… even Ross with his black soul is blond as a cherub.

“Hey.” I lift my hand in greeting, not to walk in on him from behind and give him a heart attack, and he turns around, a smile lighting up his face.

“Matt. Gimme a minute and I’m done here.”

“Take your time.”

I walk into our office and move the mouse to wake up the computer. I check our schedule, see what cars are assigned to me, and then get up and go look for my toolkit and heavy-duty gloves. Spotting the first car that needs my aid, an old Chevy, I hum, and find myself smiling.

It feels good to be back, doing my job, fiddling with engines and machines. It relaxes me, always has, since I was a kid and learned at my dad’s side how to fix cars.

Dad. I don’t think of him as often as I should, probably. Haven’t even visited his grave, not yet. At first I wasn’t in a good place, didn’t know what I’d say or do when I saw his tombstone.

The thought of him gone is a thorn in my mind. I did love him. I do miss him. He was a good father. I wish he were here, to play with his grandchildren, teach them what he taught me.

I hope I can give my kids what he gave me, this sense of a place in the world, of things to learn and do and explore.

Setting down my tool bag, I’m about to root inside for what I need and get to work, when Kaden comes striding toward me.

“Matt.”

I grab him in a bearhug as he reaches me, slap his back. “Kade. How’re things around here?”

“Never been better. Funny how everything runs like clockwork when you’re not around, that’s—” He groans when I slap his back harder. “I think you broke my ribs.”

“Serves you right.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Was everything okay down in Destiny? Is your buddy Evan okay?”

“He will be. About that… Know how you complained again that we’re not hiring anyone to help out here?”

Kaden nods. “Evan? He’s looking for a job?”

“Yeah, and a new start. He’s experienced, and a good guy. What do you say?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What, my opinion matters now?”

“Yeah, it does.” I huff, annoyed at myself for letting him think otherwise. “Always has, Kade. I swear.”

He nods, shoves his hands into the pockets of his overalls and rocks back on his heels. “If you think Evan is good for this job, then let’s hire him.”

Awesome. My chest lightens more. I can’t fucking wait to call Evan and tell him the news.

“And Hailey and the kids?” I slap Kaden on the back again, and he coughs.

“Christ, you trying to kill me?”

“You’re going soft on me, Kade.”

He snorts. “Fuck you, brother. Better be nice to me. I got news.”

“What news?”

“Zane is in town. I was just talking to him.”

“That son of a bitch. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He called the shop first. I told him you’d be back today. Well, I knew you were arriving yesterday, but I wanted to give you time with your kids.”

He gives me a long, unsure look.

“Thanks. You’re right, I needed that time with the kids. And Zane? Is everything okay with him?”

“Yeah, yeah he’s fine. Said he’s just passing through.”

“Through to where?”

“To here!” a familiar voice calls, and Zane walks in, all badass Mohawk and tattoos, grinning from ear to ear. He grabs me, thumps his fist in my back, and it’s my turn to gasp in pain. “Gotcha. I came to see you, you grumpy old bastard. How’ve you been?”

“Good.” I pull back before he thumps me again. “What are you doing here? Dakota and the kid with you?”

“Nah. Left them at home.” He shrugs. “Morning sickness is a bitch.”

“Bun in the oven?”

“Yeah.” He beams at me, so proud, and it turns my fucking heart over to see him so happy. Zane’s my younger brother as much as Kaden is, and this kid’s been through a lot. He deserves the best in life. “You, too, from what I hear? When were you gonna tell me, fucker?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re gonna be a dad again. When’s the baby due?”

“In four months. Yours?”

“Still some way to go. Six months to go, I guess. Boy or girl?”

I rub the back of my neck, smirking. “We don’t know.”

“Man. Why the hell not? You know what this means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“The kid will be born, and you’ll be calling him or her “Baby” and “Bunny” for the next two fucking years.”

I laugh. “That’s some bullshit.”

“I swear to God. I’ve seen it happen all the goddamn time. What’s up, Kaden?”

“We’re good.” My brother’s shaking his head. “Know what? I’ll leave you two to catch up and get back to work. We could go for drinks later, what do you say?”

“Fine with me,” Zane says, and I nod.

“So how long are you staying?” I pull him into the office. “And you’re sure everything’s okay at home?”

“Yeah, no worries. Told you, everyone’s fine back in Madison. We’re expanding.” He chuckles. “We’re repopulating the city. Many babies all around. What about your kids, and Octavia?”

“Fine.” I think about yesterday, and how the day ended. “Yeah, fine. The garage, too. We’re getting another mechanic to help us out, an old friend of mine.”

“And Octavia’s family? She has a brother and a sister, right?”

I fold my arms over my chest, thinking about those two, and Octavia’s long convo with Gigi yesterday. I only caught some odds and ends about a girl, Sydney, and lots of boys… exactly what’s been worrying me when it comes to Gigi.

And then there’s Merc—pensive, quiet, kind of lost, with the occasional explosive fit of anger, like when he beat Ross up back when we lived in Destiny.

“I think we’re all gonna be okay,” I say eventually, when Zane looks about to speak. “Yeah, we’ll be okay. Now tell me how everyone is doing. I want details.”

“Fucker…” Zane laughs, and perches on my desk. “Where to start… Ask me and I’ll answer, how about that?”

It’s a deal.

* * *

Speaking of Merc—he walks into the garage later in the day, after I’ve sent Zane back to Kaden’s where he’s staying with a promise to meet later.

He stops a few feet away, pulling off his enormous earphones, his usual fixture, and running his hand through his blond hair that’s sticking up in every direction. I pull myself out from under the car I’ve been working on, and he starts, stumbling backward.

What’s up with him?

“Merc.” I get up and resist the urge to lift my hands, show I’m not holding weapons. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. Let me wash my hands.”

“Yeah, sure.” He musses his hair again. “I mean, you don’t have to stop on my account.”

“You were just passing through to here?” I give him a sharp grin, and he frowns.

Ah, inside joke. Never mind.

Swallowing a sigh, I go to the sink to wash the grime and oil off my hands. I wipe them on a filthy rug that plays the role of a towel and turn back to find Merc right where I left him, leaning against the car I’d been fixing, hair like a hedgehog and a faraway look in his eyes.

“So what’s up?” I lift my fist, and he bumps it absently. “No classes and no work today? What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s up.” He puts his earphones back on, takes them off again. His cheeks are flushed.

“Ah-huh. Come sit down with me.” There’s a bench running alongside the garage bay, and I lead Merc there. Sinking down, I stretch out my legs and fold my hands behind my head. “Now we can talk.”

Merc sighs and slumps beside me. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Hey, you showed up here, looking all distraught and stuff. Should I ignore you?”

A muscle works in his jaw. “Whatever. Look, Matt… you understand girls, right?”

That’s a direct question, right there, and I asked for it. Still, I take my time and think back to my conversation with my six-year-old son last night. I shrug. “Maybe. On some days. Why? Girl trouble?”

I mean, the kid’s handsome in that cool ice and roses way of Gigi and Ross. He’s been working out, too, and he’s strong. I’ve had him help around the shop more than once. I bet chicks dig him.

So I’ve often wondered why we never see him with a girl—or a boy, for that matter. Whichever way he swings. I’d wonder if he’s asexual if it wasn’t for the fact I’ve seen him check girls out now and then.

“If a girl likes you… you’d know, right? I mean, it’s not like they’re an alien race or anything… The signs should be clear.”

Aliens, signs… “Um, I guess?” I remember Octavia looking at me, smiling, blushing—cooking for my kids, forgiving my crude ways.

When did I know she liked me? Not sure I can put my finger on it. She says she fell in love with me from the start.

The first time I saw her, I slammed my door on her face. So what gives? How did she know I liked her? Human relationships are fucking complicated.

“Who’s this chick we’re talking about?” I ask, to buy some time. “Do I know her?”

“Nah. Met her at college, we’re together in a class. But she’s just so… hot and cold, you know? She’s driving me crazy.”

“Yeah?” I frown. That doesn’t sound good at all. Octavia was pissed at me sometimes, but she was right to be, because I was being a stupid ass. “Like?”

“Like… she’ll just come sit close to me, pass me her pen, tell me we should meet for a coffee. And then, next time, she’ll just ignore me. It’s so fucking weird, man.”

“Yeah.” I glance at him. “So why haven’t you told her off yet? Plenty of chicks on campus, buddy.”

He shrugs. “I like her. When she’s in her good mood.”

I wince. There’s a recipe for disaster right there… right? “Not sure that’s a good idea, Merc.”

“I like… her eyes, her mouth, her fucking boobs, man…” Merc sighs dreamily, and I want to laugh but keep my mouth shut to keep him going. “I like her smell, her voice, how she likes the same songs I like, the same classes. I just like being with her, you know?”

Oh shit. He’s crushing on this moody girl. “Can’t you talk to her? Find out what’s going on?”

“I tried. She’s always running away. It pisses the hell out of me.”

Dammit. Then I think, I was a moody bastard when Octavia came into my life and broke down my walls. She didn’t give up on me, even when I was a real asshole to her. She saved me.

But I hesitate to say all this to Merc. What worked for us may not work for him. Besides, why the hell do I have to compare everything to myself and Octavia?

“Look, I shouldn’t have unloaded this on you.” Merc gets up, adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulders. His jaw is clenched. “Asking you these stupid questions. You’re not my dad, and we’re not chicks to sit around talking about shit like this. Forget all this, okay? Gotta go.”

Whoa. “Just a sec, man. Not only chicks talk about this shit. And yeah, I sure as hell ain’t your dad, but… Merc, wait!”

He’s already marching off through the bay, and he’s damn fast. I lurch to my feet and jog after him, catching up with him right before he steps out into the street.

“What?” he snaps, and if I had to bet, I’d say he’s pissed at himself for talking to me and opening up. “I said forget about what I said. It was a mistake.”

“Fine. We don’t talk about it again. But Merc? Stop.”

He stops and glares at me. “What now?”

Ow. This kid could have been my own. He’s got the death-glare down to a pat.

“You didn’t let me finish, man,” I tell him. “What I wanted to say is… you can always talk to me. Dudes talk about chicks, okay? A lot. Trust me on this. And yeah, girls are hard to figure out, and we try our best, but they’re all so different, know what I mean? Talk to her, see what she says, but don’t get too close, Merc… not until she shows you clearly that she likes you. Yeah?”

Look at me, giving love advice. Who died and made me Cupid, right?

Still, I care for Octavia’s siblings, and I’d hate to see Merc hurt.

He fiddles with the straps of his backpack, not looking at me. “Yeah. You’re right. I’ll keep my distance until I figure this out. Thanks, Matt.”

Anytime, I think as he puts his huge earphones back on and turns to go.

Fuck, I hope I gave him good advice and didn’t just ruin his life.

Then again, I have kids. That’s a risk I take every single day.

Let’s hope I get it right.

* * *

Having drinks with Zane is a challenge—because the man doesn’t drink, not anymore. Not since Emma died and he drank himself into a coma from which he was damn lucky to wake up.

His tall Mohawk is easy to spot as I walk into the dimly-lit bar. It’s a dark purple these days, the tips white. The silver rings in his eyebrow glint as he hops off his stool.

We shake hands and bump fists and at last, our bro-greeting done, we take our seats, and I order a beer.

Zane lifts his glass and salutes me with it before taking a swig. It looks like beer, but knowing Zane, it’s probably apple juice. “I thought you changed your mind.”

“You out of your mind? Besides, I’m not late.”

Zane makes a show of checking his watch. “Define late, then.”

“Okay, so I’m a bit late. First day back at the garage, had a lot to do.”

“I know, man. Just fucking with you. Have a drink, relax. Let your hair down. Or your beard. Whichever’s longer.”

I laugh and rub at my beard as the bartender slides my beer in front of me. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Yeah, I am. Life’s damn good right now. Sometimes… sometimes I’m so fucking scared it will all be snatched away again, you know?”

Yeah, I do know exactly what he means.

Taking a long gulp from my beer, I set the bottle on the bar and twist it around. “You really here just to see me?”

“Yeah.” He rolls his eyes just a little. “Just wanted to talk to you. See your kids. Otherwise they’ll forget their awesome Uncle Zane, and where would that leave me, huh?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He snorts.

“Tell me how everyone is.”

“Yessir.”

“And no lip.” I smirk at him and settle in to hear how the Inked Brotherhood and the Damage Boyz are doing.

Good, as it turns out. He was telling the truth after all, I guess. The Damage Control shop has expanded. The new shop is called Collateral Damage, and business is booming. Boys and girls and babies are all doing well.

Finally my muscles, strung tight since he walked into the garage earlier, begin to relax.

“And we have this collaboration with a tattoo shop in Chicago,” Zane is saying, “to… Jesus, who is that?”

I turn to look—together with the entire male population in the bar, it seems. A beer bottle crashes to the floor.

It should have been funny.

But I know that head of white blond hair with their blue and pink streaks, that wide mouth, that curvy body. I know her, and I curse.

I know this girl. Hell, I sure do.

“That’s a wild one,” Zane mutters.

“Yeah. That’s Octavia’s sister, Gigi.”

“That’s Gigi?” Zane whistles. “She changed a lot since I last saw her.”

Yeah.

“That girl can turn heads,” Zane mutters, taking a sip of his undefined juice. “Don’t get me wrong, Dakota is the only woman who turns my head, but oh boy this one’s gotta have her pick of guys. She only has to crook her little finger.”

“I know,” I grunt. I watch her slink by, hips swaying. “Dammit, I’m not her dad. Think I’ll be justified in punching any guy she brings home if he’s not up to par?”

I rub at my temples.

Suddenly Zane laughs. “Fucking hell, this has to be a headache for you. I bet you’re set on checking every potential boyfriend for flaws, as if it’s a car. Check the engine. Check for dents. Check the paint. Order an overhaul.”

“Shut up,” I say but I grin. He’s damn right. “So what?”

Not sure Gigi would appreciate it, though. She’s as strong-willed as her sister. I sometimes wonder if she knows the effect she has on guys.

Most of the time, Octavia doesn’t have a clue how pretty, how sexy she is. I have a feeling her little sister isn’t much better off.

But where Octavia just never believes it, it’s almost as if Gigi doesn’t want to know. Or doesn’t care. Probably also doesn’t care if she leaves a trail of broken hearts in her wake. A beautiful, natural disaster.

I watch her vanish into the dark end of the bar and wonder who she’s here to meet.

Wonder if I have a right to ask, later. If I should worry.

About her.

About him.

“You want to meddle, fucker,” Zane mutters. “You’re too much like me.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. I run around trying to get my buddies to talk to me when they have a problem, and it’s like pulling nails. And then the shit hits the fan, and I make them wish they were dead for not talking to me sooner. Stupid dicks.”

I snicker. “I doubt we’re alike, Zen-man.”

He mutters something under his breath and calls the bartender over for a refill, lifting his glass.

Still don’t know what he’s drinking.

I take a swig from my beer. “I just want my family safe.”

“That’s exactly my point.”

“And they all go and do their thing anyway, because that’s how people are, Zane.”

“Stupid dicks,” he agrees, and grins at me like a fox.

Jesus. Chuckling, I slap his arm and down my beer, then lift the bottle. “Another.” I lean in and say into Zane’s pierced, metal-covered ear, “I’m glad you passed through, buddy.”

Really glad.