Hard to Break - Bella Jewel Page 0,1

dragged himself off the couch and came in to check on his own garage.

So it’s just me. I’m all I have and right now, I’m okay with that.

Aren’t I?

As I close my eyes and drift off into a fitful sleep, I wonder just how much longer I can take all of this before I eventually end up exactly like my father. When the pain becomes too much, where will I go from there?

CHAPTER ONE

“Good morning, Dad,” I say, heading into the kitchen the next morning.

My father is sitting on the couch still, his head bowed, a cup of joe in his hands. He looks up when I come in and I wince. Once, a long time ago, my dad was an exceptionally handsome man with his golden hair and bright blue eyes. He had a big frame and was all muscle. Now he’s frail and weak, his hair is dull and his eyes … they’re empty.

“Morning, sugar,” he rasps. “I’m, ah, sorry ’bout last night.”

He says this every time that happens.

“No biggie,” I say in my best chipper voice, pouring a coffee. “Are you coming into the garage today?”

He frowns. “I would, but my stomach … it’s not so good. Maybe tomorrow.”

He says that every time, too.

“Okay, Dad.”

I gather my keys and carry my coffee to the front door. As I pass him, my dad reaches out and curls his hand around my wrist. “I’m sorry, Quinnie … I’ll try to be better.”

I look down into his empty blue eyes and I wish I could believe that, I really do. There’s a pain etched deep in my chest, and it’s one I live with on a daily basis. There is pain for the loss of my mom. There is pain because my dad is so broken. And there is a deep pain knowing that my family is no longer beautiful like it once was. I don’t resent my dad for being this way, but I can’t accept it either. I’ve tried to understand, but I guess since I’ve never had a love like theirs, it is beyond me.

I pat his shoulder and pull my wrist from his. “Okay, Dad. Later.”

I rush out the front door and get into my old, restored, baby blue Mustang with white leather interior. It’s the only thing I cherish in my life. It is important to me because when my dad was sober, and my mom was alive, we fixed this car up together. It’s the only piece of the old him I have left, so I hang onto it with both hands, cherishing the memories it holds for me. My dad taught me everything I know about cars and how to restore them. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love being under the hood of a car. Strange, I know, but it takes me back to a place where happiness was like a bubble surrounding me.

It was hard growing up being a tomboy. I had the looks to be a girly girl, but I never used them. I loved being around the guys, and I loved being with my dad. During my high school years, I got a good deal of taunts thrown my way, because I was different from the rest. I still recall the memory when I told Dad I wanted to be a mechanic—the very thought makes me smile.

“You want to be what?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“I want to be a mechanic,” I say proudly. “Like you, Daddy.”

He blinks. “Baby, you’re a girl.”

I stare at him, shocked. “And?”

He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t you want to, I don’t know, wear dresses and paint your nails?”

“Not all girls do those things, Dad.”

He laughs. “No … but … honey, I don’t think it’s the right profession for you. It’s a world of males and … well … male things.”

I straighten. “You don’t think I can handle that, because I’m a girl? That isn’t enough of an excuse, Daddy. I’ve been under those cars since I was big enough to do so, and you know it. Don’t be like the rest of them, don’t make me feel stupid for pursuing something that isn’t necessarily feminine.”

My dad’s face softens. “Baby,” he says gently. “I’m damned proud when I watch you under a car, I just want you to do what’s right for you. If this is it, then Quinn, I’m over the moon. You know you’ve been my little sidekick since you were little. I’d love nothing more than to be able to