Page 55 of Knot All is Forgiven

"How much is it?"

"A couple grand. But I don't know if all the work needs to be done. I don't need the car to be as good as new again," she promises, reaching out to touch the top of my hand. "I will own up to this once it's all sorted. But I do need it to be driveable. Would you be willing to go to the shop with me to review the estimate and make sure I'm not getting ripped off? A friend recommended this place, but it seems a little… well. It's a little rough around the edges."

I check my watch. A reminder scrolls across the screen alerting me to an appointment I have in twenty minutes. "Not right now, but my last appointment finishes up at three. Do you want me to pick you up from your place?"

"Yes! Thank you so much, Icky!"

I shudder at the nickname but kiss her forehead as I stand. "Alright, sis, try to stay out of trouble until then, yeah?"

Athena's eyes flick towards the barista, and a sly smile spreads across her face. "No promises, big bro."

Hey, I may be late. I need to take Athena to the autobody shop.

Sunshine

No biggie, I have an appointment with Dr. K anyway. I'll keep dinner warm for you! <3

Athena points out the shop on the right-hand side of the road. The sign reads "Hawk's Autobody," and between the two words is a painting of a massive bird of prey.

"You took it here?" I ask incredulously. "Aren't the Hawks a motorcycle club?"

"Maybe? I don't know. My friend Gary said this was the place to go, so..."

I pull into an open spot, sandwiched between two tricked-out bikes and realize just how out of place I am here. I have never felt as self-conscious as I do now, watching leather and denim wandering in and out of the shop as I stand here awkwardly in my chinos and button-down shirt.

Athena walks into the lobby like she owns the place, her canvas sneakers squeaking on the concrete as she approaches the counter. A large man looks through the shop window and sees us, throwing a greasy rag over his shoulder before coming to greet us.

He's older, with what was once dark hair that is now speckled with white and a massive beard that is more gray than anything. His broad shoulders fill the room, and he's as tall as I am, eventhough it's clear he's a Beta. A weathered patch reading "Nitro" is haphazardly sewn onto his stained blue shirt. He looks me up and down before turning to Athena.

"Alright, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, hi, uh, I dropped my car off a few days ago for an estimate, and I wanted to bring my brother by to go over all of it with me if that's alright?" Usually, Athena doesn't get this flustered, but the man is intimidating, and we've both heard the rumors about the Hawks and their questionably legal practices.

"Who was working on it?"

"I believe his name was Slime?"

What the hell kind of a name is Slime? I mean, Nitro here isn't much better, I guess. But the name obviously means something to the man because he grunts and nods. "Alright. I'll let him know you're here. May be a minute, he's on his break right now. Hold tight."

"We'll wait here," I tell the man, pulling Athena by the arm to sit in the lobby.

She looks around and leans close to me, whispering, "Do you think they have coffee?"

Chapter twenty-two

The autobody shop doesn'treally have a break room, per se. It's a room to take a break in, that's for sure, but it is not a relaxing space. The black leather couch is ripped and cracked all over, the metal folding table is rusted and piled high with papers, and the floor is sticky in a way that does not feel natural, even for a place like this.

Slime leans against the wall, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, and his heavy boot propped up on the wall behind him. His jeans are stained and ripped, and his shop shirt is covered in grease.

This man is not Simon. Simon was a tight-laced, studious kid who liked to stargaze and read. He was always so quiet and unassuming.

I search the handsome man in front of me for the one I grew up with, who still makes my chest ache when I think about him. I'm not sure if any of that Simon, my Simon, remains. The man in front of me is Slime.

"Cyrus is in a rough place, man," I tell him, resting my elbows on my knees. "I don't know how long we can go on like this." Things are strained between the two of us. It's almost as if we've silently and unanimously decided not to talk about what happened between us, yet it always feels like it's on the tip of my tongue.

"Yeah, I get it, but listen. Y'all have yet to accept that we can't just apologize and move on." His hazel eyes flash with anger. "Of course, what we did had consequences. We don't even know the extent of it, but from what Cyrus said last night, it's not fucking good."

Guilt chews me up like a rabid beast. What Jordan hinted at shows that our actions directly caused a dark spiral that shaped her adulthood. "How do we even begin to get her to talk to us? To work through this?" The words come out choked, guilt trapping them in my throat.

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