Come What May - L.K. Farlow Page 0,20
like I was giving little bits of her soul to the highest bidder.
Right as my eyes finally adjust to the dark, she flips the switch for the lights, nearly blinding us both. Bright fluorescent bulbs illuminate the garage, bathing the space in light. We’re both quiet at the sight before us.
Everything remains untouched. Tools are littered about, there’s a car on the lift, and at least two cars mid-restoration. It’s as though Dave went out for lunch and never returned.
I place a hand on the middle of her back, rubbing soothing circles. “It’s okay to cry, mariposita.”
No sooner than the words leave my lips, she’s full-out bawling.
“C’mere.” I spin her to face me and wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest. I rock us both back and forth, murmuring words of comfort as she lets it all out.
It probably makes me twisted, but some macho part of me wants to roar in triumph over the way she’s willing to be vulnerable with me. Seraphine’s this fascinating mixture of weakness and strength. She’s fragile, yet made of steel. She’s broken, yet a warrior—even if she doesn’t yet know it.
God knows how long passes before her tears dry and she pulls away from me. “I’m so sorr—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Do not apologize. This place is sacred to you and visiting it is hard.”
She sniffles as she nods. “Honestly, it’s surreal to be here. It literally looks like he left in the middle of the day—except instead of coming back, he…” She trails off as a fresh round of tears start.
“Why, Mateo? Why did he leave?”
I pull her back into my arms and press my lips to her temple. The move’s as instinctual as breathing. “Shh, mariposita. He didn’t want to leave you.”
“He clearly did,” she insists.
I spy a workbench and guide us to it, settling her in my lap. “You know deep down that’s not true. Your dad loved you. More than anything else, he loved you.”
“Then why did he leave?”
A million different answers race through my brain. People are always so quick to call those who end their own lives selfish, even though it’s rarely the case.
“Honestly? We may never know. But him ending his life in no way negates his love for you. You hung the moon for that man, Seraphine. I can’t begin to understand how alone and betrayed you must feel, but please don’t doubt your father’s love for you.”
She sighs and lays her head back against my chest. “It’s hard, though. Why would he leave if he loved me?”
“I can’t answer that. But I think… it was more about him than it ever was you.”
“You think so?”
“I really do.”
She shrugs noncommittally before shrugging out of my embrace and standing. “Everything’s the exact same,” she murmurs, “and yet totally different.”
I rise and follow behind her as she walks over to a jaw-dropping 1970 Plymouth Barracuda. The beast of a ride caught my eye the minute the lights came on, but it wasn’t the time.
She approaches it as if it’s a wild animal, cautious but curious. She circles it before trailing her fingers reverently over the trim.
“When did he get her?” I ask, tipping my chin toward the partially restored masterpiece.
“He’s had her for a while. Just got too sick to work on her.”
I drag my eyes over the fine lines of the body, loving every bit of it. She needs work, but she’s still a damn fine ride. “Damn.”
She shrugs as her gaze hones in on mine. Judging from the fierce look, she’s done reminiscing and ready to get down to business. “Why are we here?”
If she’s ready to do this, so am I. “We’re here because you need to figure out what you want to do with this place.”
Ignoring me, or maybe contemplating my words, Seraphine walks along the edges of the garage, taking in every inch of space.
She stops by every stall, every workstation, until she ends her circuit on the opposite side of the ‘Cuda from where she started. A frown mars her pretty features. “I don’t know, Mateo.”
Now’s the time to go for broke. Please let her have an open mind. “Sell it to me,” I say, leveling her with a pleading look over the hood of the ‘Cuda.
“Sell what?”
“All of this.” I throw my arms out wide. “The shop, the tools, the unfinished projects.”
She shakes her head, her previously down-turned lips now twisted up in a snarl. “No! No way. This is my dad’s legacy.”
I scoff