Page 18 of Burn It Down

“Don’t start with thatmaybe it’s time we move and start somewhere newbullshit, Pops. And definitely don’t start with themaybe you should take overshit. It isn’t gonna happen. This shop needs you.”

Ineed you I think to myself, taking a long look at my dad.

Classic mechanic.

Holes in his jeans, backwards hat over a gray ponytail, silver goatee, tattoos on his pale arms. He’s a bit thin, but overall, he’sa good-looking guy and he’ll go stir crazy and die faster if he sits at home by himself all day.

Besides, I’ve been saving my ass off, but I’m not at a point where I can buy him out of his third of our shop. At least not if I give him what it’s worth.

“Dylan, I appreciate everything you and your sister do for me, but at some point, you both need to go on and live your own lives.”

“And what, Dad? Move away and spend every night worrying about you?”

“Dylan Mendoza Ryder, I am a grown ass man. Your mother and I didn’t have you and your sister so we could burden you as we aged.”

“Yeah, well, Mom didn’t plan on…” I trail off, getting choked up almost immediately — like usual — when talking about my mom, “…leaving you to age alone so, shit’s changed.”

This conversation always makes me so fucking angry. I’m angry at my mom’s body for failing her. I’m angry that my sister stayed behind with me instead of going to college, and I’m angry that my dad thinks us leaving him is an option.

Family is ahugecomponent of Mexican culture and although our relatives aren’t close, all of my dad’s closest friends are Mexican and they’ve kept him in their fold even though my mom’s gone. That part of my heritage is strong and my mother would spring from her grave to beat me senseless if I ever considered leaving my dad on his own.

“You need to let it go, son. Get back out there, find aniceyoung man this time, and give life a real chance. You can’t be a bachelor living in your childhood bedroom your whole life. I won’t allow it.”

I throw my wrench in the toolbox next to me and angrily dig out a different one. “This conversation is over,” I huff, pullingmyself along the frame of the car from the flat, wheeled dolly so my dad can’t see my clenched jaw.

Chapter 7

Jake

I’ve had to stop myself at least three times every day from sending a text to Dylan. I hated how we left the last conversation. I just have to make it to Saturday morning and then I have an excuse to see him again.

“Mr. Ellington, Cora is here to see you.” My secretary, Peggy, is the best I could ask for, totally competent and as sweet as they come, but she also doesn’t take any shit. I wish she would be a mentor for Cora. Hell, I wish she would be a mentor forme.No doubt I could use someone to teach me how to push back a little. Although my recent conversations with my father are encouraging.

Perhaps I’m finding my balls after all.

“Thanks, Peggy, send her in.”

A moment later, the electronic lock clicks and my bubbly girlfriend enters through the heavy double doors of my office. She’s wearing a tailored pantsuit and conservative heels, clutching her Hermès bag. Her bangs are pinned back and the rest of her stylish blonde hair bobs just above her shoulders.

I stand, greeting her with a kiss on her cheek.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, thankful that even if I have to fake myattractionto her, I don’t have to fake mysmilearound Cora. She brings people up to her level of joy and light and I love her for it.

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. I’m going to meet Whitney for lunch at the club and wanted to say hello.”

I tilt her chin up and kiss her lips gently. I’m desperate to let this attraction to Dylan go and get my life — even the fake parts — back on track. Incessantly lusting after Dylan is going to distract me to the point that I start making careless errors with my clients’ money. It’s also making me wish for things I can’t have and if I don’t watch it, I’m afraid I’ll take my anger out on Cora.

But all I can think about is seeing him again.

Fuck.

I retrain my focus on the woman in front of me and what needs to be done. “Dinner tonight? Just you and me?”

The way her eyes light up causes another weight to drop to the pit of my stomach. I always feel like such an asshole when she looks at me with actual sparks of desire dancing in her irises.

My gut churns at the realization that everyone Cora trusts is playing her and I’m somehow both a victim and the perpetrator in this situation.

“Sounds wonderful,” she breathes as my self-loathing continues to beat me down.

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