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Days later, Amelia was still thinking about the answers from the other night at dinner. She couldn’t help but turn it over in her head, thinking how proud she was of her dad for choosing to talk about his lost loved ones. She knew that sort of thing never came easy to him. And to hear Ethan and Jake add their comments in, too, was rather fascinating to witness.
She wasn’t surprised by her boyfriend’s answer. She knew he was firmly embedded member in God squad. She respected that even if she didn’t share the same belief about God, Heaven, Angels, all of it. She’d still tease him about it occasionally, of course, but she hoped he understood she wasn’t dunking on his religion and beliefs.
Jake’s answer took her aback somewhat, she’d admit. She hadn’t ever heard him talk about having a brother before. Or if she had, she didn’t recall hearing about a brother. Considering she was an only child, she couldn’t imagine what he had to feel inside sometimes. She sort of could, she supposed, when she’d think back to how close she came to losing Bradley and her dad two years ago, but even that was more of probably what she thought she should feel than anything.
She wasn’t necessarily blind when it came to Bradley. She understood their relationship would always have this weird complication that came from becoming a blended family so suddenly. And she could even understand the times when he’d be hot and cold with her, knowing he probably struggled at times with trying to figure out just what exactly they were to one another. She knew he hadn’t jumped on the chance to call Mav dad as quickly as she had. That there was this impenetrable wall up between Bradley and Dad that neither wanted to tear down out of fear of making things worse probably. And she made sure to hold her tongue like her mom suggested, recognizing that her mom was right—it really wasn’t her business what was going on between Dad and Bradley. So, she’d let it do its thing, secretly hoping one of them would get their head out of their butt and see how silly the whole thing between them was these days. They had each tried to sacrifice themselves for the other. If that wasn’t the ultimate symbol of everlasting familial love, she didn’t know what was. Seriously.
At the sound of her dad’s boots thumping against the floor, she leaned back over the sofa to glance at him. He had changed from his flight suit into casual civilian wear—the kind she knew he wore when he expected to get grease on him at some point.
“You need any help?” she asked, hopeful that he’d suggest she tag along with him this time.
Her dad’s eyes darted to her in surprise before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Depends. How bad’s the schoolwork tonight, Tomcat?”
Well, someone was sounding more and more like Pops and Mom by the day. Damn it. Dad was supposed to be her fun parent.
“Not that bad. Just have to read a chapter about limits and stuff.”
“The limit does not exist,” he deadpanned back to her, reciting the movie quote.
“Dad.”
He chuckled. “What?”
She rolled her eyes before she shook her head. He thought he was so funny sometimes. The dork.
“How about a deal?” he suggested a moment later.
“Intriguing. What are you offering, old man?”
He snorted back. “I pity that poor boy of yours. I really do, honey.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “We all feel bad for poor Ethan, except, you know, Ethan himself. But, seriously, Dad, what are you offering?”
“You read your chapter on limits while helping me with my bike occasionally.”
“So, a bribe then.”
“No, not a bribe,” he argued, scoffing at her sass.
“Dad, you literally just said, if I read my chapter while helping you on your bike, you’d let me help you with the bike. That’s a bribe, old man.”
“No, it’s an incentive, Tomcat.”
“Oh, my bad. Didn’t realize we were dealing in—”
“Look, sweetheart, do you want to help me or not?”
Guess he wasn't in the mood tonight. “Yeah.”
“Then just say yes, sweetheart. You don’t need to sass me every other line. I won’t think any differently of you. Promise. You'll still be my favorite. Always, Tomcat.”
She snickered. “Okay. What are we doing this time?”
“I need to clean out the carburetor.”
“Which is what makes sure the mixture is good for the engine so it runs properly, right?”
He nodded with a proud smile at her remembering that from the last time they worked on his bike together. “Exactly. There’s probably some dirt or something stuck inside it somewhere. I’ll clean it, and it’ll be good as new.”
It’d be one of his quicker jobs he did on his bike, but she wasn’t going to be a beggar here. She loved helping him out in the garage, hearing all his stories. She didn’t care if most of his stories went over her head at times with all the meticulous details she was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to give. It was all about him choosing to spend time with her, of letting her stick around. Growing up, she loved sitting outside with her mother while her mom worked on the Porsche, too. So she cherished it anytime he offered to let her help him out with his bike.
“You have yourself a deal, Dad.”
“Excellent.” He grinned widely at her. “Go change then, Tomcat. We’ll meet in the garage in a few minutes. And afterwards, we can work on getting the part off before you start on your reading.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She rushed upstairs to find an old shirt and ripped jeans she could part with if she had to and changed.
A few minutes later, she walked into the garage while putting her hair up in a high and tight ponytail to make sure her hair wouldn’t bother her. She smiled when her dad wrapped an arm around her gently and kissed the top of her head tenderly.
“Shall we?”
“We shall,” she grinned back, matching his perfectly. Blood didn't make a family. They proved that.
They tore into the guts of his bike soon after, setting aside pieces they removed carefully as they worked at getting to the carburetor. As soon as they managed to reach it and she saw how dirty it was, she sighed at her dad pointing at her math book he must have brought out to make sure she’d hold up her end of their deal. She swallowed her instinctive groan, though, and carried out the unspoken request.
She was nearing the end of the chapter later when her dad spoke again.
“This was the only way I could ever get Bradley to read sometimes, too,” he admitted. “Though, for him, it was always whatever he had to read for English class than Math. He loved Math.”
“Did he stick to his side of the bargain usually?” she asked curiously.
“Sometimes. I would distract him, though. Ask him a question, and he’d answer . . . and we’d be half done working on the bike with him still needing to finish his chapter for the night.”
“You didn’t distract me,” she pointed out.
“Because you treat me working on the bike like background noise,” he chuckled. “To Bradley, though, it was always something he didn’t want us to end, I think. He didn’t ever really care to learn about this sort of thing. It wasn’t until I showed him his dad’s old Bronco that he finally took an interest.”
“That’s his dad’s?” She knew it was old. She just didn't know it was that old.
“Yep. Goose thought it’d be the perfect vehicle for their family. He had me inspect it top to bottom before he bought it, fretting the entire damn time, too. He was so worried that he had bought a lemon. Turned out, though, it just needed some TLC.”
“Did you used to help Mom with her car?”
Her dad chuckled with a wry, reflective smile. “Nah. I didn’t know about it until long after we dated that first time. It was something she and her dad worked on together. They didn’t finish it until you were quite a bit older. Pretty sure your grandfather told her not to let me see it ever because he was afraid I'd never leave then.”
Amelia snickered.
“She said you used to help her from time to time with it, though,” he said.
“When she’d let me at least.”
“Well, sweetheart, you’ve got a leg up on it than me.”
“What do you mean?”
“She won’t let me touch it, save for riding in it still,” he laughed. “She’s afraid I’d rub off on it.”
“Probably afraid you’d turn it temperamental like your bike is.”
“Probably.” He ruffled her hair affectionately. “So, what did you learn just now?”
“That Mom’s got you whipped.”
“Ha-ha,” he replied, thumping her lightly on the end of her nose. “I meant about limits, kid.”
“That we’re always trying to get as close to possible for it but that sometimes they don’t exist.”
“And?”
“And this is way too complicated for a sophomore to be learning?”
“Hilarious but no.”
“You’re trying to weave some weird way how the limit applies to my daily life?”
“Exactly. Because it does. Limits aren’t exacts. They’re just giving info so you can choose the better option that keeps you closest to it. They come in handy when you have to decide on your feet in spur of the moment, giving you the path of least resistance at times.”
“Yeah, well, hate to break it to you, but I’m not a naval aviator, remember? So to me, this limits stuff is all just a waste of time. Because, honestly, when am I ever going to need it in life?”
“Never say never, Tomcat,” he replied mysteriously with a soft smile. “Limits are a building block, however. That’s why it’s important you understand them. Because from them, you get derivatives. And from derivatives, you can start to solve more complicated math problems, ones similar to those that I have to solve sometimes when I'm flying.”
“In other words, you’re a giant math nerd. Got it, Dad.”
He ruffled her hair again, shaking his head.
“There’s nothing wrong with showing off occasionally. Of being a little extra nerdy in other words, sweetheart. The more you start to learn about math, the more you start to notice the world around you, how you interact with it, how it interacts with you.”
“Okay, fine, but how does that help me exactly, though?”
“It helps because someday you might have someone talking down and treating you badly. Instead of hearing the words, you can work out another limit or derivative—and block it all out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Wait . . . is that what you’re doing whenever you get yelled at?”
Winking at her, he put the carburetor back on and tightened the bolt holding it together.
Okay, maybe math wasn’t so bad after all, she supposed. But she still disliked limits.