by Riley Hart
“You can leave her with me a bit?” he asked. “I’m pretty booked solid but you know I want a chance at her.”
“Absolutely,” Bill replied. “I knew you would.”
He’d made a place for himself in Last Chance. A home. Was it everything he wanted? No, but it was okay. The more he’d started respecting himself, the more people in town respected him too.
Shane turned off the car, and pocketed the key which was on a ring by itself. He told Bill he’d be in touch. The man thanked him and left with his wife, who’d driven her car down with him.
The rest of the day was fairly standard. He didn’t get anyone else bringing him cars that nearly made him want to jizz in his pants.
At five o’clock, Ryan, his only other technician, approached him. Ryan was three years older than Shane. He’d moved to Last Chance just about a year earlier, apparently because he needed a change. Shane couldn’t imagine coming here from something different—in the small town that felt like it never fucking changed, but then again, he didn’t know what Ryan was running from either. He figured it had to be something, but Shane wasn’t real big on sharing his shit with people, so he didn’t pry into other people’s lives either.
“Holy fuck, that Camaro is gorgeous,” Ryan whistled.
“No shit,” Shane replied. “I can’t wait to get inside the engine.”
“It was a good day.” Ryan rubbed his oil-stained hands with a towel. “Thinking about grabbing a beer tonight. Wanna join?”
They’d become sort of friends since Ryan started working for him. It was nice to have someone around who didn’t know everything about his past. Who didn’t know about the scrawny boy he’d used to be. The boy who’d been teased and tormented by a group of assholes for most of his life. Shane wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t a real social butterfly or anything, but he didn’t keep himself as distant as he’d used to. Everyone in town liked him—respected him, his work, and how he took care of his mom.
The assholes were all long gone, except Jonathan, and they were too old to pay each other much attention.
And he sure as shit wasn’t the too-thin kid any longer. Puberty had been nice to him, and he also enjoyed weight training and running. “Yeah, sure. I need to take care of a few things. I’ll meet you about eight?”
There wasn’t any question where they would meet. There were two bars in Last Chance, but Round Table was always the one they went to.
“Sounds good.”
Shane locked up before he and Ryan headed for their vehicles. Shane climbed into his black Tundra, pulled out of the gate behind Ryan, then jumped out to lock it before pulling away.
He made the familiar drive down Main Street, passing all the small shops, cafés, and the donut shop he’d been going to since he was a kid. He thought about stopping by Rosie’s for a shake, but didn’t.
Shane took a left on Fallen Tree Lane, the quiet back road that led just slightly out of town, to the property he’d lived on his whole life. The one he’d lived on with his mom and dad, before his mom started getting sick and his dad decided he didn’t want to deal with it. Their place was just far enough from town to give them their desired privacy, but close enough that he could get home and back in a hurry if need be. He turned his truck down the gravel road, where he’d built his own one-bedroom house on the same two acres of land as his mom.
She’d bought it before her mental health struggles, which was the only reason they had it. Land had been a whole lot cheaper back then. Shane had put in a separate driveway that led to his house, which could be seen from his mom’s. It was ridiculous, really. It wasn’t as if she was coming and going from her own driveway very often, but it made him feel as though he had some space, as though his house was really just his, instead of being attached to his mom at thirty years old.
And he likely always would be. Who else did she have? Who else did either of them have?
Shane climbed out of the truck. He didn’t bother locking it because he really didn’t have to worry about things like that in Last Chance. Plus, everyone knew that was his place and Shane didn’t take shit the way he’d done as a child.
As soon as he walked inside his small, cabin-like house, Shane stepped out of his shoes. It was rustic, which had always been his style. Lots of wood and earth tones. He went into the kitchen, stepping around the island, and filled a glass of water. There was a sliding glass door on the far wall which led to a deck and his hot tub. It faced the opposite direction as his mom’s place, something he’d done purposefully when he’d drawn up his design for the place. He drank the water as he made his way down the hallway to his room.
He set the glass down, stripped, and went straight into the bathroom for a shower.
Shane turned the water on, thought about shaving the stubble on his face, but didn’t feel like it. Instead, he stepped under the spray, letting the hot water work his tired muscles, before he rubbed one out. Living there, he did a lot more jerking off than he did coming with someone else.
He typically made the drive to Portland about once every month. It was only an hour away, but crazy as it sounded, he always felt guilty when he went. Not because of the fucking of course, but because he couldn’t stop himself from constantly worrying about his mom.
Shane finished showering and then pulled on a pair of worn jeans with a hole in the knee and a tee. Once he finished getting ready, he went outside and jogged over to the small house that his mom rarely left.
“Hey, Shaney.” She smiled at him when he stepped inside. She looks good today. She still had her ups and downs, of course, some times were better than others. The past couple years had been filled with more downs, more panic attacks. She basically only left the house when he took her to her doctor or therapist appointments, and even that was a struggle.
It was something they had to work up to and prepare for. There was almost always a crash afterward—a period of days or weeks where she wouldn’t get out of bed unless he forced her.
It didn’t take leaving for those crashes to happen either. Sometimes, they didn’t need a reason at all. Other times, it would be because she missed his dad or felt guilty that she needed Shane so much. Shane figured the real reason was her depression, but sometimes it was easier to have another excuse.
Her knitting club helped sometimes. And her friends from game night. It was something Shane insisted on. It would be better if his mom went out to spend time with people instead, but at least it still kept her social.
“Hi.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. She was sitting at the table working on a puzzle. She loved those damn things.
“How was work?” she asked.
He took the chair across from her and talked about his day. Afterward, she got up and made spaghetti for dinner. They ate and talked and laughed.
He loved it when she was happy. When he could forget how debilitating even the easiest things could be for her sometimes. It nearly ripped his fucking heart out each and every time a panic attack happened.
Shane spent a couple hours visiting with her before he pushed to his feet. “I’m going to go have a beer with Ryan tonight at Round Table. I’ll have my phone with me, of course.” He always kept his phone with him.
She smiled. “You spend a lot of time with him….”
He rolled his eyes. “Not really, and he’s straight, Ma. Can you stop trying to hook me up?” Any time he mentioned a friend, she prodded him about whether it could be more. She’d even gone as far as to create profiles on dating websites for him. He knew it came from the heart—and her guilt—but it still drove him fucking crazy.
What would he do if he met someone in Portland or elsewhere? It wasn’t as though he was going anywhere, and Last Chance didn’t have much to offer outsiders.
“I just…I hate that you’re alone. Because of me.” She looked down, fiddling with a puzzle piece.
Shane sighed. “I’m not alone because of you. I’m happy here. My life is here.” Which was true in a lot of ways. He thought
about how much he would like to leave, but what the fuck else did he know? And he had his own shop here. His own house. His studio where he liked to blow glass. It didn’t get much better than that. “I’m not real big on the idea of settling down with someone, anyway.”
“That’s because you’ve never done it.” She gave him a sad smile. “Your father and I were so happy.”
They had been, but then she got sick and he ran away. Why focus on the past?
Shane walked over to the cabinet and grabbed her pills. He shook one of each into his hand, filled a glass of water, and brought it to her. She was good at taking them herself, but today he wasn’t taking any chances by not being responsible for it himself.
She swallowed each pill, then gave him another smile. “Thanks, Shaney. You take such good care of me.”
A sad ache settled in his chest before he bent and kissed her forehead again. “That’s what family is for, Ma.”
CHAPTER TWO
Round Table was packed.
Shane and Ryan sat at the bar, both nursing a beer. Rock music played from the speakers throughout the room. There were two bartenders behind the counter, almost every high-top round table behind them filled.
“You know I’m going to want to work on that Camaro with you,” Ryan told him and he grinned.
“Only if you’re real nice.”
“Fucker,” Ryan teased him back. “I’ll be finished with the Bailey truck tomorrow. I would have finished today, but that fucking part didn’t come in.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” Shane replied. “We’ve had a few unexpected delays like that out of Lehrman’s recently. I need to figure out what’s going on. It screws with our schedule.”
“Can I get you boys another beer?” Trinity, one of the bartenders, asked. Shane glanced at Ryan to see if he wanted another or planned on leaving. When he nodded, as if to say, I’m down if you are, Shane looked back at her and told her yes.
Trinity was his age. She’d lived there her whole life, just like most people in Last Chance. She’d married right out of high school and had two kids, but her husband had left her a couple years back, leaving her to raise the children alone. Her ex had been a lifer in town, too—Jimmy. He’d hung out with Max and Jon—or at least had tried to. He’d been the type who wanted to fit in and would have done anything those jackasses said. Who the fuck knew where he was now? Trinity certainly didn’t.
“Did you hear the news?” she asked him as she popped the lid off his bottle before handing it over.
She smiled when she did the same for Ryan and he nodded back at her before looking away.
“What news is that?” Shane replied.
“Max is finally coming back to town.”
Shane hated the fact that his spine stiffened at her reply. He’d wondered why Maxwell hadn’t come as soon as his old man had passed away. It had been over a month. He hadn’t even made it back for the service, which had been the talk of the town since it happened. He might not have come home once since he left Last Chance but he had to return when his father and idol passed away, didn’t he? Shane couldn’t say how many times he’d heard that question posed but as the days and weeks passed, it changed to why didn’t Maxwell come back? Where’s he been all these years? What’s he doing?
Shane didn’t care for an answer to any of those questions. He was used to dealing with Jonathan; he’d given Shane a half-assed apology some years back. So they ignored each other, or grinned and pretended their past didn’t exist.
“Who’s Max?” Ryan asked. “Am I supposed to care that he’s coming back?”
“No,” Shane answered right along with Trinity’s, “Yes.”
“Used to be the town’s golden boy,” Shane continued. “His dad was Maxwell Sullivan.”
“Oh,” Ryan replied. Everyone knew who his dad was. He’d practically owned Last Chance. Now his wife did, though they hadn’t seen much of her since his passing. Looked like the prodigal son was indeed coming home to claim his throne.
“Why do you say it like that?” Trinity asked. “That was a long time ago—the way you, Maxwell, and Jonathan used to be with each other. It was dumb kid stuff. Plus, you’re not the same person you used to be.”
Did that mean if he was the same kid who didn’t socialize all that much, kept to himself, and was too small to defend himself, he wouldn’t be as accepted in town as he was? That it was okay for them to treat Shane like they had because he just hadn’t been as cool as they were? Fuck that.
“Don’t excuse them. They tormented me. I handled it and I couldn’t care less about Maxwell, Jonathan, or anyone else, but don’t excuse the fact that they were cruel.” Shane lifted his bottle of beer to his lips, swallowing most of it down in just a few chugs.
Trinity sighed as though he were being dramatic.
He fucking hated Maxwell. Hated people like him—rich, cocky bastards who thought they could get away with anything…but there was a part of him that wanted to see the other man. Wanted him to know that Shane might have stayed, but he’d made something of his life.
Then he was pissed at himself for even thinking it mattered what that fucker thought about him.
“Everyone’s wondering about him,” Trinity added. “I mean, his parents rarely spoke about him since the day he left. No one knows what he did with his life or anything. It’s always been a mystery.” She winked. “One I can’t wait to unravel.”
“Jesus, Trinity. He was a horrible person.”
“His dad just died, Shane,” she reminded him.
“And I’m sorry about that, but that’s as far as my concern over Maxwell Sullivan goes.”
She rolled her eyes and walked away to help someone else.
“Sounds like a dickhead,” Ryan spoke from beside him. “I hate people like that.”
Shane nodded. “Yeah, I do too.”
*
Van couldn’t believe he was back in this town.
Here, he’d been Maxwell. He hated who that person was, hated the things that person did.
One week to the day after high school graduation, he’d driven his car to the bus station in Portland where he’d left it for his parents, gotten a ticket, and sworn never to come back. He’d wanted a fresh start and that was when he’d become Van.
He’d made good on that promise not to return until now, and he fucking hated it. Hated that he’d had to come back. Hated that he had to see the Welcome to Last Chance sign when he drove into town. Hated that he still knew every street and almost every shop, and that his car had practically steered itself to his mother’s house.
He’d wanted to leave the town and his past behind him and he’d done that, only he hadn’t forgotten like he thought he had. Jesus, he wished he’d forgotten.
All he had to do was help his mom sort things out after his father’s death, to help her move and he could be on his way again.
And Shane….
If he was still in Last Chance, Van owed him an apology. He owed Shane more.
Van pulled up in front of the large, Colonial-style home. The yard was as impeccable as it had been his whole life, though not because he or anyone in his family had taken a hand to it themselves. No, they’d had people for that, and his mom obviously still had people for it. They’d always prided themselves on things looking perfect from the outside—What people think of you matters, Maxwell. Make them respect you. Make them fear you. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you command respect. His father had been good at that. Van had been good at it too. He’d kept up the façade of everything looking perfect on the outside, while inside? Between the walls of the house and the inside of Van’s head for the first eighteen years of his life, had been nothing close to perfect. The Sullivan family was a well-constructed lie.
And he was back. Why had he allowed himself to go back?
He dropped his head against the back of the seat, took a couple deep breaths, killed the engine, and got out of his car. There was no use in stalling. He’d help his mom get settled
after his father’s death. It had been the reason he’d come. She’d never sounded needy for anything in his life until she called to tell him his dad had died nearly a month before and she needed him to come home. She hadn’t been there for him growing up, but something had made him want to be there for her now and he wasn’t happy about it.
Once they got things sorted out, he would head back to Southern California and never set foot in Last Chance again.
His knee popped when he got out of the car. He brushed his hand down his pant legs and noticed paint stains around his fingernails. It wasn’t anything new. His hands had been calloused and paint-stained for years, but he’d bet his mother would make a comment on it. Luckily for him, he didn’t give a shit.
Van made his way up the porch stairs and knocked. He waited a few moments and when no one answered, he knocked again. As soon as he lowered his hand, the door opened.
“You need to shave,” was the first thing his mother had said to him.
“No, I don’t. I like it this way.” It wasn’t that he had a full beard but he knew it would be too scruffy for her. He’d just jumped in his car and driven up from Southern California at her insistence that he come. Was it that big a deal that he hadn’t taken the time to shave?
“You look messy,” she replied.
“Lay off, Mother. Please,” Van replied as he stepped inside. The second he did, it was as though someone shot ice water into his veins. What the fuck was he doing back there? Why had he let her talk him into coming back?
He took a step inside, then another. The house used to always smell like cleaner. His mom would scrub daily, because his dad always prided himself on a clean home. Now? Now it smelled like old food and cigarette smoke. “Who’s been smoking in the house, Mom?” he asked.
“Me. I used to smoke before your father, but I stopped because he didn’t like it, and when you love someone you make sacrifices for them. You wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?”