“I’ll be right out!” a voice called from back in the shop.
I knew that voice.
My throat closed. Just a little.
“Welcome to Gordo’s,” Rico said, coming into the waiting room. He was running a rag over his hands, trying to remove the oil under his fingernails. There was the sweet scent of coconut oil on the rag, which Rico swore by. The rest of us used soap and water. Rico said there was no accounting for taste. “How can I help—”
Then he stopped. And stared.
“Hey,” I said. “Hi. Hi, Rico.”
“Hi.” He snorted and shook his head. “Hi, he says. Hi, like he’s some little—get your ass over here, Ox.”
I got my ass over there.
The hug was good. Really good.
“It’s good to see you,” he whispered, arms around me tight.
I just nodded into his neck.
Then he dragged me back into the shop.
There were a couple of cars up on the lifts.
The radio was blaring Tanner’s country music, something about a man and how all his exes lived in Texas, but he hung his hat in Tennessee.
Tanner himself was under the hood of a 2012 Toyota Corolla. It looked like he was replacing the timing belt, singing along with the radio.
Chris was running a diagnostic check on a truck, squinting at the computer screen, even though his glasses were sitting on top of his head. He’d said he hated how he looked in them.
I took in a deep breath with the smell of grease and grime and metal and rubber. It was the same when I’d been a kid, coming in with my daddy, Gordo offering to buy me a pop from the machine.
It was just missing the man himself.
But that was okay. He was busy now.
“Look what the gato dragged in,” Rico said.
They looked up.
I waved awkwardly.
They were on me before I could even take a step back.
They laughed. They held me. They rubbed their fingers over my head. Through my hair. Their arms went around my shoulders. They pressed their foreheads to mine. They told me I was a sight for sore eyes. That they’d missed me. That they were going to work me to the bone when I was ready.
I couldn’t find the words to say what I wanted. Sometimes, when your heart gets so full, it takes away your voice and all you can do is hold on for dear life.
I WALKED home at dusk.
There was no one waiting for me on the dirt road.
I’d expected that.
But it still stung.
The fading sun shone through the trees.