Chapter 3 - THE MAN MY FATHER SAVED
“Because of your father.”
There it was.
Miles shifted beside me.
I finally sat.
“Tell me.”
Roman remained standing another second, then sat across from me.
“Seventeen years ago, I was twenty-two.”
I did the math.
I had been eleven.
Eli had been three.
“Your father worked at a repair shop near Cicero.”
“Vaughn Auto.”
“Yes.”
Dad had owned half of it with an old friend named Martin Reyes.
At least that was the story I knew.
Roman rested his hands on the table.
“At the time, I was not living a life your father approved of.”
“That sounds deliberately vague.”
“It is.”
“Because of the lawyer?”
“Because you do not need details that would make an old story more dramatic than it was.”
That answer surprised me too.
“I was driving one night during a storm,” he continued. “My car failed several blocks from Vaughn Auto. Your father was closing.”
“So he fixed it.”
“No.”
Roman paused.
“He kept me from making a decision I would not have been able to undo.”
The room became quiet.
I looked at Mara.
She remained expressionless.
“What decision?”
Roman looked toward the window.
“For years I thought the most important thing Daniel did that night was hide me in his garage while people I did not want to see me were looking for me.”
My stomach tightened.
Miles went very still.
Roman noticed.
“There was no violence at the shop.”
His tone remained calm.
“Your father did not participate in anything illegal.”
“What happened?”
“He looked at me and asked whether I actually wanted the life I was trying so hard to prove I could survive.”
That sounded like Dad.
Annoyingly direct.
Roman continued.
“I told him to mind his own business.”
“That sounds like you.”
The faintest trace of humor touched his face.
“Probably.”
“What did Dad say?”
“He handed me a wrench.”
I blinked.
“A wrench?”
“He told me if I insisted on ruining my life, I could at least help him finish changing a water pump first.”
Miles made a strange choking sound beside me.
I almost smiled.
That sounded exactly like Dad.
“He kept you fixing a car?”
“For four hours.”
“And that saved your life?”
Roman looked back at me.
“It gave me four hours to stop being angry.”
Something in his expression changed.
Less guarded.
“For four hours, Daniel treated me like a stupid young man instead of someone dangerous. He didn’t flatter me. He didn’t fear me. He made me clean tools.”
I could almost see it.
Dad standing beneath fluorescent garage lights.
Radio playing too quietly.
Coffee that had been reheated three times.
A furious twenty-two-year-old Roman Mercer being ordered to organize sockets.
“What happened afterward?”
“I left.”
“That’s it?”
“That night, yes.”
“You said he saved your life.”
“He did.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not enough.”
Roman nodded slowly.
“No.”
He looked at Mara.
She opened a second folder.
This one contained photocopies.
An old lease agreement.
A business registration.
A photograph.
I pulled the photograph closer.
Dad stood outside Vaughn Auto.
Beside him was Martin Reyes.
And between them stood a much younger Roman.
No scar through his eyebrow.
No expensive suit.
Just jeans, a work jacket and an expression that seemed almost embarrassed.
I stared.
“When was this?”
“Six months later,” Roman said.
“Why were you there?”
“I worked for your father.”
I looked up sharply.
“What?”
“Three nights a week.”
“My father hired you?”
“He said I was mechanically useless but capable of improvement.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Roman’s mouth almost curved.
“He was correct.”
“What were you doing?”
“Sweeping floors mostly.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he offered me something nobody else was offering.”
“What?”
“A place where my last name didn’t matter.”
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
I remembered Dad telling me once, after I complained about a difficult customer at my first retail job, Everyone needs at least one room where nobody cares who they think they are.
I had assumed he meant humility.
Maybe he had meant Roman.
“How long did you work there?”
“About a year.”
“I never saw you.”
“You were a child.”
“I visited Dad constantly.”
“I worked late.”
“And Eli?”
Roman’s gaze shifted.
There.
Something.
“What about him?”
He was silent.
I leaned forward.
“You told me not to mention you to Eli.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Roman glanced at Mara.
She said nothing.
“Tell me.”
“Because Daniel asked me not to.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
The room disappeared for a second.
“My father spoke to you six months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
I stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“Tessa,” Miles said softly.
I ignored him.
“My dad was in the hospital for two weeks after his stroke.”
“I know.”
“You visited him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The evening before he lost consciousness.”
My throat tightened.
I had been there that evening.
I had left for ninety minutes to shower and bring Eli clean clothes.
Roman had apparently arrived during that window.
“What did he say?”
Roman remained seated.
Maybe he understood that standing would feel like pressure.
“He asked me to make him a promise.”
“What promise?”
“To stay out of your life unless you came looking for me.”
I laughed once.
It sounded sharp.
“I didn’t come looking for you.”
“No.”
“You grabbed me in a restaurant.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“So much for Dad’s plan.”
“I did not know who you were.”
“Until afterward.”
“Correct.”
“How?”
“Your name.”
“That’s it?”
“Daniel showed me photographs over the years.”
I stared.
“Over the years?”
Roman nodded.
May you like
“You kept in touch?”
“Yes.”
