“No,” I say.

“Mind?” he asks before he lights the end of his cigarette. I just shake my head no. I don’t really like the smell of smoke, but I feel like the intruder here, so I just accept it.

Gabe takes a long drag and holds the smoke in his mouth, some of it spilling out his nose, before he lets it puff out above his head. He turns to face me and smiles big. “I don’t think I caught your name,” he says.

“I’m Charlotte,” I say, pulling the sleeves of Trevor’s sweater lower so they cover my cold hands. When I look back up, I notice Gabe’s smile is growing, and he’s starting to laugh and shake his head side to side.

“What’s funny?” I ask, mentally noting the $20 still in my pocket, and starting to feel like maybe Gabe was in the garage the whole time. The longer it takes him to answer, the more upset I become, and I’m about to leave when he finally explains.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…I’ve heard about you, you know?” he says with raised eyebrows, surprising me. My eyes widen when I realize Cody must have talked about me, and it has my stomach flipping—which in turn has me feeling even angrier, since I’m supposed to hate Cody.

“What have you heard?” I say. It comes out defensive, which I instantly regret.

“Ohhhhh, he’s pissed you off, hasn’t he?” Gabe says, laughing again. “Fuckin’ Cody, he always screws this shit up.”

Gabe walks out of the garage to the driveway where he drops his cigarette and stomps it out. I follow, hoping he’ll keep talking. He stuffs his hands in his jeans’ pockets and turns to me with a little shiver, the night air starting to get to him. Gabe looks rough at first glance, and not at all like anyone I would ever be alone with. But out here at night, in the cold, he seems like a vulnerable little boy, which somehow makes me more comfortable with him.

“Look, I know it’s hard, but try to give my boy a chance. He’s got a shit life, and he deserves better,” Gabe says. I shrug a little, not fully understanding, and Gabe lets out a heavy sigh, looking up at the sky before shuffling his feet closer to me. “That garage, the shop? It was his dad’s. It’s all he has left, and he’s determined to keep it open. But Jake, his dad? He had a lot of loans out on it. Cody’s been trying to pay them all off. That’s why he takes on these extra jobs, like the Chevelle over there. Anything he can do to make an extra buck.”

I look back at the old car and see it differently—the potential in it, the artistry of its design. I would hope someone would pay top dollar to have it restored. I’m starting to understand Cody’s bitterness, and my insides are fighting over whether or not I still want to punch him or hug him. Without thinking, I speak my thoughts aloud. “Why doesn’t Jim just give him the money?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Who do you think has the biggest loan on the property?” Gabe says, confirming everything. Suddenly every conversation, every encounter with Cody here at the Appletons’, is starting to make sense. Gabe turns to walk back into the garage, nodding over his shoulder for me to follow. When we’re inside, he slides out a metal folding chair for me to sit in, and I’m immediately reminded of the burn on my forearm, and how gentle Cody was with me. I touch it softly on instinct, and my heart aches.

“What happened tonight?” I ask, now less interested in the harsh words and cruel accusations Cody spit at me, and more wanting to know the reason behind them.

Gabe slides up on a worktable, his feet dangling over the side. He reaches over into a cooler, pulls out two beers, and tosses one to me. I smile and set it down beside me. Gabe chuckles softly and looks at his hands as he cracks his open. “Jim’s come to collect, and Cody and him had it out good the other day. He told Cody he had three months before he would sell the place. Cody made a deposit tonight, a pretty good one. He thought maybe it would buy him some more time, but Jim didn’t budge.”

My heart breaks as I replay it all—the fight I overheard the night I found out Cody and Trevor were brothers, his refusal to take the coffee maker…and tonight. Cody losing his father’s shop would be like someone burning my father’s desk, but about a million times worse. I’m looking down at my lap, my hands holding the crumpled money, and feeling ashamed. No wonder Cody is full of resentment. Here I am, a stranger, and the Appletons have opened their home to me. But Shelly’s own son is relegated to the garage. I don’t understand why she isn’t fighting for his happiness—if this was the only thing he wanted?