She smiles again, that same shy smile from earlier. I move in, kiss her cheek, and start to reverse out of the spot.
We make it a mile home before my car breaks down.
"Stupid Filmore." I kick the tire.
She comes up and wraps her arms around me, trying to calm me. "I feel bad that you spent your money on this. I know you were doing it for me, but you could have got something more reliable."
I sigh. "It doesn't matter. It's done now."
"You don't think it's fixable?"
I shake my head, my smile tight. "It's going to cost more to fix than it's worth. I'm just pissed. It's not your fault. I'm sorry."
She pulls her phone out of her bra. Her skirts and tanks rarely have pockets. "Dad?" she says, holding the phone to her ear.
My eyes narrow in confusion.
"Filmore's broken. Can you organize a tow?" She gives him our location.
Ten minutes later he arrives. Another five minutes and the tow truck shows up. Half an hour after that, I'm told that Filmore needs a new home in car heaven. Basically where I found him.
Tom stands in front of us shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I know you got Filmore to help out with Luce and the boys and I appreciate it." His words don't surprise me. Luce says that he's been doing therapy twice a week in the few months since he started. She's gone to a few sessions with him and they've been working through his issues. She tells me that it helps, and I'm glad it does. She says that I gave her a new perspective, that even though he messed up, he's trying. Which is more than I can say for my dad.
He rubs his hand across his beard and looks between Lucy and I. "You guys heading to our house or what?"
Lucy answers for both of us. "We were gonna go to Cam's." And even though we can walk to my house, we accept his offer for a ride. Because it's not just about the ride, it's the message behind it. He's making an effort. Not just for Luce, but for me, too.
***
"Where's Filmore?" Mark asks, walking into the kitchen.
Lucy exaggerates a pout. "Car heaven."
Mark's eyes move from Lucy, to Mom, then finally to me. "That sucks, bud. I'm sorry."
Shrugging, I state, "It was inevitable." I let out a bitter laugh. "Just means Lucy's back to riding shotgun on the back of my bike."
She snorts. "I don't mind, babe. Worst comes to worst I'll just get my license. I only held off because I like you driving me around."
We gather our snacks and move to the living room, where she positions herself lengthways on the couch and lifts her legs for me to take a seat. Once we're settled, she pulls her e-reader out of her backpack and switches it on.
Mark shrugs on his Lethal Weapon shirt; one that says 'I'm too old for this shit'. Mom used to hate it. She thought it was a bad influence on me. We still haven't told her about the time I hit him in the face with my baseball bat and he dropped the C bomb. I was nine.
Mark chuckles and shakes his head at Lucy just as Mom throws a fake Persian blanket over them. "It's Movie Madness, Luce. No books," he jokes.
"It's okay," I cut in, "she can read. I'm used to it."
"I have two chapters left, and then I'm all in."
"Shit," I clip. "My Delorean." I quickly run up to my room and grab the model car Mark got me because he knew it was my favorite movie. Actually, come to think of it, that was the day after he dropped the C bomb. Maybe he had ulterior motives. Asshole. I'm still laughing to myself when I get back downstairs.
"What's funny?" Mom asks.
I lift Lucy's legs and reposition myself. "Remember that time I gave Marky Mark a fat lip with a bat?"
Mom chuckles.
I hold up the Delorean and quirk an eyebrow at Mark.
His eyes go huge as he shakes his head in warning.
***
I'm trying to watch the movie but her feet on my lap keep rubbing each other. It would be fine, only they're on my lap. I glance at her quickly but she's too consumed in her book, her eyes darting from side to side. She smiles softly. I've learned that it means the characters have done something overly cheesy. I want to smile with her, but all I can think about are her feet rubbing against my dick... and the hard-on that's building faster than it should.
Containing a groan, I pick up a cushion and do my best to not disturb her while I lift her feet, placing the cushion on my lap to hide myself.
I hear Mark chuckle and look up at him. His hand is raised in a fist, motioning it up and down; the universal sign for rubbing one out. I glare at him. He laughs harder. I bring my hand up to my face and give him the finger right as Mom's eyes shift to me. "Did you just give me the finger?"
I shake my head quickly. "No."
"I saw it," Mark says. "He totally did, darling."