Every spring, it seems like the garage always gets a rush of customers. It’s almost always a mix of tourists coming to visit the hot springs near town, or others just passing through on their way to Taos or Sante Fe to see the art galleries New Mexico is known for. Either way, they seem to underestimate how bad the roads are in rural areas like this and they inevitably end up here since we’re the only place for miles when they need something fixed.
This May is no exception. The garage is so slammed, they’ve barely been keeping up.
I look back at Sly to find that he’s giving me a death stare so eerily similar to our older brother, Slade, that I almost flinch.
“No, you don’t. I can take careof this place.”
I always admire my younger brother’s loyalty to our family and our hometown. While Slade and I moved away to pursue our careers in the restaurant industry, Sly stayed in Sterling Springs—the town that bares our name because our family founded it over a century ago. He helps our younger sister, Sisi, run the motel with Mom and he’s worked at the repair shop with Dad for years. The last couple of years, he’s stepped up as Dad’s arthritis has gotten worse and our crazy Uncle Dan retired. At this point, he’s only helpful running the front desk and handling quotes and orders.
I’ll give Sly credit, because he never plays the martyr card. Just like Slade and me, Sly is fucking stubborn and willing to do whatever it takes to protect the people he cares about, no questions asked. So I know better than to argue with him right now. Instead, I grab the bottle of disinfectant from him, popping the cap open. I pour the cool liquid over my knuckles, wincing the second it hits the fresh wound.
Yep. That’s going to leave another scar.
He chuckles. “You know they make mechanics gloves for a reason, right?”
“I like to feel the tool in my hand.” It’s the same reason I never wear knife-safe gloves in the kitchen. Tools and knives—they’re an extension of me and I want to feel every possible sensation and connection to what I’m working with that I can.
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes, setting the roll of self-adhesive bandages on the nearby tool chest. “Just try and be more careful next time. If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll do more harm than good.”
Part of me wants to remind him that I was working on cars years before he was. Slade and I worked all through high school for Dad at the shop, and we still can both hold our own when it comes to wrenching.
His phone chimes in his pocket, and he pulls it out. I don’t know what that notification was, but his moodchanges entirely. He quickly tucks his phone away and looks back at me.
“Don’t you have a flight to catch? You need to get cleaned up and get going.”
I groan, wiping off my knuckles and grabbing the roll of bandages. As much as I’m annoyed with him, he’s right.
I always book the last Tuesday afternoon flight out of Taos. It’s an hour away and I still have to connect through Salt Lake City, but it’s still the fastest way to get back to Jackson so I can be there to run the restaurant during the week. Driving is an option, and I do it sometimes, but it’s a full day on the road and most of the time, I just don’t have the hours in the week to spare.
“Yeah, you’re right. I still need to stop by the house and grab my bag. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”
“Good. Sisi was looking for you earlier.”
I groan, finishing the last wrap of bandages over my knuckles. “Let me guess. Wedding stuff?”
He smirks. “Yeah. She’s getting awfully close to going full bridezilla.”
I snort a laugh. “I still can’t believe our little Sierra is going to be the first to get married. Summer is sneaking up fast.”
Sly’s eyes drop and he laughs half heartedly. “Yeah. That’s something alright.” I know from his tone that I probably just opened an old wound. “She’s excited.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “Now get going. I’ll clean up here.”
I nod and walk through the garage into the morning air. It immediately smells like home. Or at least what was home.
Growing up here and spending countless hours at the shop, we always had the doors open to let that fresh air in if we could. Walking through the parking lot toward my rental car, I see the old food truck. While helping my family might be the main reason I’m here, I’ve made sure that every timeI’m in town I spend at least a couple hours tinkering on my passion project. I didn’t get to it this trip, but it’s getting closer to being done.
I rubmy thumb and forefinger into my temples, trying to will myself to wake up. Sly was right. Sisi was in full freakout bride mode yesterday and I just made it to the airport in time to catch my flight. After that, my connecting flight to Jackson was delayed and I didn’t get back to my place until after midnight.
Now I find myself sitting on an oversized chair at Cowgirl Coffee, looking at Slade and our business partner slash my best friend, TJ, on the couch across from me. I was coming back last night anyway, but I also needed to be here for this meeting about our next restaurant that Slade is opening. “Where is our coffee?” I groan, still massaging my forehead. Staying up all night baking when I got home might not have been my wisest choice, but I can take a nap once this meeting is over.
TJ laughs. “God I love seeing you when you’re not your normal, chipper self.”
I shoot him a shit-eating grin. “Chipper? Way to remind me you’re a decade older than me.”
“A decade that he spent aging like fine wine.” A way too perky female voice chimes in. I look up to see Grace walking over from the counter with our drinks in a carrier. “Make all the old man jokes, but forty-two looks good on him.”
She sets the carrier down on the coffee table and curls into her husband’s lap.Husband—that’s still weird to say. He was obsessed with her for months, but it still surprised all of us when they got married one night in Nevada. In his classicretired rockstar turned investor and philanthropist way though, everything about it seems fitting.