Slowly and carefully, Keith tells Reed, “I think it’s time to see what she can do if she can live her wildest dreams. I think it’s time for her to fly.”
Reed looks pissed, but he deflates while Manuel just continues on his stoic way. Keith therefore turns to me. “Come on, Brody. You’re taking me to the track to pick up Rix’s car. What’s she driving, anyway? I can’t wait to get behind the wheel of a racecar my little girl built.”
He sounds genuinely excited, and I know that I was right. Erica should’ve shared this with him a long time ago so that they could have this thing together. But I’ll never tell her that. It happened when it did, how it did, for a reason, even if Todd would probably beg to differ.
“I think I’ll leave that a surprise, mostly because I know I’ll fuck up all the horse-this and throttle-that she told me, and I don’t want to look like a dumbass in front of you. In my world, horses have four legs and help me herd cattle.”
Keith laughs even though I’m not kidding. But I’m taking the win.
We get in the truck, and Keith immediately runs a hand over the dash, then opens the console, rooting around inside. “What the fuck, man? That’s private,” I snap, glad that Mark didn’t have anything weird in there since I commandeered his truck to get to the hospital.
“No such thing now, Brody. Tell me everything I need to know about you, and don’t leave out the shitty stuff. I’m playing catch up here, and it pisses me off, especially when it’s about one of my girls.” He leans back sullenly in the cushioned comfort of the seat, waiting for me to spill my guts.
Shit, his daughter is a total mini-me version of his stubborn bluster. But I decide to use that to my advantage. What works on Erica will probably work on Keith.
“Cowboy. Oldest of four. Mostly raised my youngest sister but did a shitty job of it so she raised herself to spite me. Not as dumb as I look.”
Keith grins at that. “Didn’t think Rix would have you if you’re stupid.” It’s as close to a compliment as I can expect from him. “A cowboy, you say? You got land?”
Damn, he goes right for blood. The knife cuts through my heart, and I wish to hell I could say yes. “Neighbors bought it and now we work for them. They’re like family, though. That’s who invaded back there. Technically, Mama Louise is my boss. Mostly, she’s a pain in my ass.” I scratch at my lip, grinning. There’s no heat in the insult and I don’t mean a word of it. “I’ve got a plan to get it back, though, just gonna take some time and a lot of hard work.”
“You up for that?” Keith eyes me from the passenger seat, and I keep my eyes fixed on the road.
“Been working every day my whole life. Ain’t scared of it or anything.”
He chuckles. “You scared of Rix? Because you should be. She probably knows three different ways to slit your throat and hide the body.”
He’s joking, but she’s already told me this one. “It’s five different ways. And I’m not scared of her because of that. I’m scared because she’s got my heart in her hands and that’s a scary position for a man to be in.” It’s a big confession and a gamble, but I’m laying it all out there because I don’t think there’s anything to be gained from holding back at this point when it’s blazingly apparent that Erica has me by the short hairs. “Reckon you know what that’s like with Janice?” I hedge, side-eyeing him.
From what Erica has told me, her parents are happily married and have given her and Emily a great example of what lifelong love should look like. The test is whether Keith will admit that he’s a big old softie for his wife.
“I guess I do,” he says.
I think we both just passed a test.
At the track, there’s a good-looking silver muscle car sitting by the gate. “I’ll be damned, he’s still got it,” Keith says incredulously.
“What?” I ask, not getting why he’s excited.
“Ed. I texted him that we were coming for Rix’s car. That’s his 1969 Chevy Camaro. It’s a top-notch drag car, and he’s got it modded up like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“You still have his number?”
Keith’s eyes never leave the car. “Friends are friends even when they don’t talk for a while.”
I hum in agreement. “You didn’t do the work on his Camaro?”
Keith looks at me in confusion. “Nah, I’m good but not that good. He bought it already overhauled years ago and kept it pristine. Can’t officially race on your own track, but I’ve seen him run it. Thing of beauty.”