“Do I get questions now?”

“Yep.”

I prepare myself for his questions, because I don’t want to react badly to any of them. Especially when it comes to my dad or the garage.

“Tell me about your family.”

I knew that one would be first. I decide to keep it as simple as possible. I’m not ready for him to know the world I live in just yet. I’m just not prepared to show him what’s deep inside my soul. Because when I do that, it’ll be when I know he’s the one I’ll keep forever. “My dad and mom were childhood sweethearts. They got married, bought the garage and had me. It was awesome until Mom got cancer.”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry.”

I swallow and keep going. “She died and it was just Dad and I after that. It was hard on the both of us, but it was so much worse for him. She was the only thing he breathed for. But we, ah, got through it.”

“It sucks you had to lose someone so special to you.”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “And she was special.”

“You want to tell me about her?”

“She was the best kind of mom. The one who bakes, and sings and acts crazy. She literally was sunshine. So happy and fun. I don’t remember a lot, but I remember that. She was the reason the garage was named Pixie Wheels. She used to call me Pixie when I was a kid, because I was so little.”

Tazen is quiet for a second. “God, I’m sorry we took that down.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I assure him. “I have it now, so that’s all that matters.”

“What about your dad? He obviously kept the garage.”

“Yeah, he did, but he lost interest in it. I spent most of my teenage years working there. I loved it though, so I didn’t mind.”

“Still,” Tazen says carefully. “That must have been hard.”

“It was.”

“So no siblings?”

I shake my head and he wraps an arm around my belly, squeezing me softly. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, I always wanted siblings.”

“Understandable.”

“Aside from that, there really isn’t much to know. I’ve been here my whole life. I had only one boyfriend in my teen years, and the only friends I have are the guys that worked with me. Cars are all I’ve lived and breathed, and I want it to stay that way.”

“One boyfriend?”

I grin, knowing he’d pick that out of what I said. “Just one.”

“Lucky guy.”

I laugh. “Coming from the one sitting behind me.”

“I never said I wasn’t lucky.”

I smile and lean back, putting my head on his shoulder.

“Are we really giving this a shot?” I ask.

“Fuck yeah, we are.”

*   *   *

I stay at Tazen’s that night, and we make love twice more before falling asleep. We also talk for hours. His bed is like heaven, and it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever laid down on. I fall into the soft mattress and plush pillows and drop off in minutes. I don’t move all night. I’m woken the next day with Tazen’s body over mine. He makes love to me for a long, glorious hour and then we shower.

Now I’m sitting in his kitchen, coffee in hand, watching him cook breakfast. While I wait, I glance down at my phone. I have a few missed calls from Lenny, so I quickly give him a call back. “Morning, sweetheart,” he answers.

“Hey, Lenny.”

Tazen turns and then smiles when he sees I’m on the phone.

“Listen, I just went past your place. You’re not there.”

“No, I’m out. Dad should be there, though?”

“He didn’t answer. I knocked a few times.”

I glance over to the clock on the wall. It’s well past 10 a.m. Dad never sleeps that long even after a big night. Maybe he was in the shower? I hope so, but worry is clenching inside my belly. “I’ll give him a call, see if I can find out.”

“Okay, love. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

I hang up from Lenny and then find Dad’s number. I dial it. No answer. I try the home line. No answer. Panic swells in my chest and something just doesn’t feel right. I turn to Tazen. “Hey, I can’t get hold of my dad. Do you mind if I just run home and check on him?”

He turns and studies me. He can obviously see the panic in my face, because he stops what he’s doing, turns the heat off and then says, “I’ll throw on a shirt and come with you.”

Shit.

Tazen is possibly about to see my dad at his worst. I wonder if I should warn him, but forget about that when Tazen walks out and waves his keys. “Let’s go.”

We rush out and get into his car. It takes us a couple of minutes to get to my place, and we both jump out. Tazen knows where I live, but he’s never experienced the ugliness of the inside. I don’t have time to worry about trying to find a way to stall him, because my dad could be in trouble. I fling the front door open and the stench of vomit hits me hard.

Shit.

I start running down the halls and there’re patches of it, leading to the bathroom. I kick the bathroom door open and see Dad on the floor, on his back, passed out. It’s not seeing him passed out that makes my heart stop. It’s the odd blue color. I drop to my knees and frantically press my hand near his nose. He isn’t breathing. Oh God, he isn’t breathing.

“Tazen,” I cry out.

He’s already behind me. “Shit.”

“He’s not breathing, what … what do I do?”

“Call an ambulance. Now.”

I push back tears running down my cheeks as I dial 911. Tazen flips my dad to his side and then shoves his fingers into his mouth. I cry out, but he ignores me. He just keeps pressing his fingers inside my dad’s mouth.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“My dad,” I squeak. “He’s not breathing. He’s had too much to drink, but he’s not breathing.”

“Stay calm, ma’am, I’ll send someone right over. What is your address?”

I give it to her and she assures me that someone is on their way. I drop the phone and turn back to Tazen just in time to see my father vomit across the floor. I stare at Tazen who’s kneeling over my dad, finishing a chest compression. I drop to my knees on the floor, pain ripping through my heart as Dad starts wheezing and coughing. Tazen turns him on his side, tilting his head the right way so he can’t choke.

Dad coughs and splutters and Tazen holds him firmly, even when he starts squirming and crying out.

“Stay still. The ambulance is coming,” Tazen orders firmly.

Five minutes later, the paramedics arrive and lift my dad onto a stretcher. One of them is asking me questions, but I’m numb. Tazen answers them for me and then they inform him which hospital they’ll be taking him to. Tazen nods and we both watch them carry him off. When they’re gone, I start rushing to my room to get some things. I need to get to the hospital.

“Your dad is an alcoholic.”

It’s not a question, but it still slams into my heart like a knife being driven in.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Again, not a question.