The Fix (The Carolina Connections, #1)(4)

I turned to face the hall again and lowered my hand. “You can’t be late on your first day, Gav. And for God’s sake, put on some pants—there’s a minor in this house and there is no way to un-see that whole mess you’ve got goin’ on, Billy Idol.” Careful not to glance in his direction, I made a vague circular motion with my finger and hurried away to finish getting myself ready for the day.

I returned to the kitchen with five minutes to spare. Gavin, thankfully now clothed in faded jeans and an old concert t-shirt, was leaning against the counter with his own bowl of Cocoa Krispies raised to chin level. He spooned a bite into his mouth and focused on his nephew.

“But why doesn’t she like ponies?” Rocco’s puzzled expression passed between his uncle and me, his lisp making “ponies” come out as “poneeth.” His brown eyes crinkled in confusion while his thick dark hair tilted to the side along with his head. “Ponies are awesome.”

Gavin pointed his now empty spoon at Rocco. “I don’t think it’s that she doesn’t like ponies, Rock—it’s just that it’s been too long since she’s ridden a pony,” he said, chuckling to himself at his oh-so-lame joke and giving me a sidelong glance in repressed merriment.

“Ha ha,” I responded and then gestured for Rocco to give me his empty bowl and cup from the table. “Your Uncle Gavin needs to quit with the livestock stories and get going to his new job,” I told Rocco. “And we need to get a move on, dude, or we’re gonna be late for school. Go grab your shoes.” I tossed the dirty dishes in the sink for later.

Rocco dashed to the side door to retrieve his sneakers and I turned to face my brother. “Seriously, Gavin, good luck today,” I stretched onto my tiptoes to give him an unexpected peck on his scruffy cheek. “Knock ‘em dead!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied self-consciously, running a hand through his unruly mass of dark brown hair—hair that I noted had clearly not been washed on this day. Baby steps, I told myself.

We both knew this job was a big deal—a turning point of sorts, I hoped—but not wanting to make him feel more uncomfortable than necessary, I threw a small wave over my shoulder, picked up my lunch bag along with Rocco’s backpack, and escorted my kid out the door.

“Yeah, good luck, Uncle Gavin!” Rocco hollered as he hopped down the garage steps toward the car. “Maybe if you do a good job we can go on a pony ride this weekend!” As the door closed behind me, I caught a brief glimpse of the cereal spewing from Gavin’s surprised mouth and onto my linoleum floor.

One guess as to who’d be cleaning that up later.

Poop!





Chapter Two





If It’s Good Enough for a Caveman…





NATE

“I think that about covers it,” said the nurse, handing over the discharge papers. “Any other questions?” Her pleasant smile passed over my mother, sister, and me, finally coming to rest on my father who was perched on the side of the hospital bed.

“I think we’ve got it from here.” My mother breathed in deeply and released it in a resigned sigh. “Plenty of rest, no alcohol, healthy diet, and no stress—easy enough.” She tried for a small smile with limited success, although it was unclear whom she was trying to reassure, us or the nurse. Nothing about this mess was easy.

My father spoke up from his seat on the bed. “Are you sure about this whole no red meat thing?” His hand swept up to point a finger at me as if this had all been my idea. “What the hell do you think cavemen ate, bean sprouts? No! I’ll tell you what they ate—meat! And then when they were done with that, you know what they ate for dessert? More meat! And you think they weren’t stressed? Of course they were; they were being chased by lions and wooly mammoths and who the hell knows what else as soon as they set foot outside the cave. Talk about stressful.” His finger made sure to single out each occupant of the room before his tirade settled.

Bailey stepped forward. “Props to your cavemen brethren and all, Dad, but you’re forgetting one tiny, important detail,” my younger sister interjected, crossing her arms. “They all lived to the ripe old age of twenty and were about four feet tall.”

“I’ll leave you all to it. Feel better, Mr. Murphy!” The nurse retreated to the hall. I didn’t blame her.

It was time to wrap this shit show up. “All right, Dad, let’s get the hell out of here and get you home.” I put my arm around my mom’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. She leaned into me with a hesitant smile.

“It’s about damn time,” my dad grumbled.

I couldn’t blame him for his less than chipper mood. If I’d had my chest cracked open days earlier and had to endure a week of bland hospital food and plastic sheets, my disposition would be pretty damn sour too. Is there anyone on earth who doesn’t hate hospitals?

In truth, seeing my old man lying on the bed with his body stuck full of tubes and wires when I’d arrived last week had really done a number on me. His normally robust presence had been completely absent and a frail and extremely, well, mortal looking figure had taken my dad’s place. The shock of it was extraordinary. After that, it had taken very little time for my brain to catch up with my gut. Priorities automatically began to shift in my mind, and decisions that were once complicated and difficult became simple and quite inevitable. I was home, and I was here to stay.