“He said Wade broke Dad’s jaw.”
“Wade did.”
“You knew him?”
“I met him once.”
She shuddered.
“Once was enough.”
Caleb paced toward the window.
“Wade’s dead.”
His mother looked surprised.
“Good.”
The word came without hesitation.
Caleb turned.
She did not apologize.
“Mom…”
“No.”
“I spent years watching your father wake up from nightmares he refused to explain.”
She pointed toward the wrench pendant.
“That thing around your neck is the only piece of that life he kept.”
Caleb touched it.
“Why?”
“Because a friend made it for him.”
“Ellis Boone.”
Her face changed.
“So they told you.”
“Rourke has one.”
“Of course.”
Caleb studied her.
“Dad saved Rourke after a motorcycle crash.”
She looked away.
“He told you that too.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Dad save him?”
“Because your father could be unbelievably stupid about forgiveness.”
Caleb almost smiled.
She didn't.
“You think helping someone means the damage disappears?”
“No.”
“You think because Rourke feels guilty now that everything is fine?”
“No.”
“Then why are you there?”
Caleb looked toward the unpaid bill on the table.
“For money.”
Her expression changed.
“Caleb.”
“We need it.”
“I told you not to worry about bills.”
“You say that every month.”
“That doesn't mean you take a job with people who hurt your father.”
“They pay more than the grocery store.”
“I don't care.”
“I do.”
She stared at him.
He immediately regretted the tone.
But he continued.
“You work twelve-hour shifts.”
“That's my job.”
“You fall asleep on the couch wearing scrubs.”
“That's adulthood.”
“You skipped your dentist appointment because you said it cost too much.”
She looked away.
Caleb softened.
“I can help.”
“You help by staying in school.”
“I’m doing that.”
“You help by being sixteen.”
“I don't know what that means.”
“It means I don't want you solving adult problems.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Dad used to say that.”
Her eyes filled.
Caleb stopped.
Too far.
He sat again.
“Sorry.”
She wiped one eye quickly.
“He did.”
They remained silent.
Finally Caleb said:
“I like the work.”
She looked at him.
“That’s worse.”
“Why?”
“Because your father loved it too.”
Caleb smiled slightly.
“You're afraid I’ll become him?”
She looked toward the pendant.
“Part of me is.”
“Was he that bad?”
She laughed through tears.
“He was wonderful.”
“Then?”
“That was the problem.”
Caleb frowned.
She sat opposite him.
“He gave people too many chances.”
“He trusted loyalty more than evidence.”
“He thought if he worked harder, loved harder, fixed one more problem, eventually everyone around him would become better.”
Caleb listened.
“Sometimes they didn't.”
She touched his hand.
“You have that in you.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“It can be.”
Caleb squeezed her fingers.
“I’m not Dad.”
“I know.”
“I’m not joining a motorcycle club.”
“I know.”
“I just want to work.”
She sighed.
“Rourke paying you legally?”
“Yes.”
“Tax forms?”
“Yes.”
“School hours respected?”
“Yes.”
“Protective equipment?”
Caleb smiled.