21. Jones

CHAPTER 21

Jones

H elping another man get dressed was not something I expected to do today, or literary ever. But as I do up the bottom two buttons on Mr. Cappella's Polo shirt, a sense of pride washes over me. I try not to let it go to my head that he asked for me to assist him today. I'm sure it has less to do with him forgiving me and has more to do with the fact that he and I have been hosting this event together for five years.

The names listed under event coordinators might be Jones Martin and Mia Cappella, but everyone knows who's behind the heart and soul of the event. Mr. C. is the reason this year most of the planning and sponsorship and local vendors went so easily. No one is doing it out of loyalty to me. Okay, maybe other than Rosie. They're doing it for Mr. C and out of respect for him. It's made my and Mia's job a whole heck of a lot easier.

Tonight is drinks and appetizers at The Pines for anyone who is participating in Bikes and Beers tomorrow. It's typically a causal event, but something tells me this year we'll have a bigger turnout. The entire town wants to support Mr. Cappella.

"Jones," Mr. C. chokes out.

My fingers fumble on the buttons that I've somehow done up to his thick neck without realizing it.

"Shoot. Sorry." I hurry to undo the button. "Better?"

He nods.

"All right, let's get you up so you can see yourself in the mirror." Hooking my arms underneath his, I hoist him out of the wheelchair.

Mr. C. can stand on his own. He can even walk a little now too. But the wheelchair is a precaution. It's there when he might need it. To catch him or on a tired day. It's like a safety net.

My mind shifts to Mia. My brain making the connection between her and a safety net. My safety net. But this rattles me, making my movements sporadic and my nerves chaotic. Because I guess deep down, I know that safety net could be gone, pulled out from beneath me. And I'm terrified of the dangerous fall.

Mr. C. puts his hands on his hips as he studies his reflection.

I blow out a whistle. "Looking pretty dang sharp, Mr. C. Look at you, you stud. You're gonna drive the Mrs. crazy."

He waves me off, but his face has deepened to a shade of red I've never soon on him before.

"This-s-s…is-s-s…nothing. L-look at…you."

"Aw shucks, Mr. C." I chuckle.

"No really. It's-s-s no wonder my daughter…has a…thing for y-you."

My heart jumps in my chest. Mr. Cappella and I don't talk about Mia. We never discussed it, but it was an unspoken rule that Mia was an off-limits topic of conversation. My eyes go wide while I wait in anticipation of what he might say.

He clears his throat. "Jones, we never blamed you." His speech is taking less effort the more he talks.

And at his words, my shoulders ease and years of guilt begin to melt off me. Tears spring up and I drop my chin to hide my emotion.

"Mia told us your plans…to s-s-stick beside her. And that you loved the b-b-baby."

"I did. I do," I correct because shit, I'll never stop loving the baby. She'll always be a part of me. "And Mr. C., if it isn't obvious by now, I love your daughter. I never stopped loving her. I'd spend the rest of my life with her if she'd have me."

He pats me on the back. "Any wo-wo-woman would be lucky to h-h-have you. Including Mia. You're a good man, Jones."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, how're you g-g-gonna figure out a way for me to ride a bike today?"

I chuckle, grateful for the comedic relief, until I catch the serious expression on his face, and I realize he isn't joking. "We'll figure out something."

My time with Mia is coming to an end. Summer is officially over after Bikes and Beers concludes tomorrow. And even though we haven't discussed the details, I know she'll be leaving soon after.

I hoped to spend this evening with her but instead, I'm in my garage welding together a device I built to attach to Mr. C's bike. I made up an excuse that I had last-minute event shit to handle and told her I'd be in my garage until late so she should sleep at her place tonight. Lying to Mia isn't something I want to get used to, but if this part doesn't work, the last thing I want to do is get her hopes up.

After watching some YouTube videos, reading some blogs, and asking Maverick to make a late-night delivery from the hardware store, I designed a part I'm optimistic will work.

The sound of a vehicle crushing the gravel in the alley has me on high alert. I take off the welding mask and my shoulders relax when Maverick's Jeep parks out front.

"You know I had to tell Cammie about this," he calls as he pulls a part out of the back.

"Suppose that's fine," I grumble. "Doubt she'll ruin the surprise for Mia."

Maverick rounds the front of the Jeep and strolls into the garage. He hands me the part and I take it over to the counter.

"Thanks, man."

"I sure hope it works," he says, propping his hands on his hips.

"You and me both."

Leaning against the counter, Maverick is quiet while he watches me get to work.

After putting my mask back on, I attach the part with the electric gas and brake to the metal bar that I already affixed to the smaller wheels. But I was missing a stabilizer bar that Maverick found for me at the hardware store. The part welds together nicely.

"Looks promising," Maverick says as he bends and studies the device.

"You wanna be my guinea pig?" I waggle my brows.

"Hell yes," he says.

I leave the part on the concrete floor while I search through my tools for a wrench. "I need to double-check the bolts are all tightened."

"Is Mia here?" Maverick asks.

"Nah. I told her to stay at her parent's tonight. Didn't want to spoil the surprise."

"Has she been staying here most nights?" Maverick rubs at the back of his neck.

I cock a brow at him but shrug. "I guess."

He blows out a breath and paces the garage.

"Why?"

"What's gonna happen when she leaves? Because she is going to leave. She's told Cammie as much. Just today in fact."

Heat unfurls in my chest. "What do you mean, what's gonna happen? I'm gonna keep running the bar. Keep living."

"So you're telling me you're gonna be fine with her leaving. Again?" he reiterates the last part.

Annoyance prickles my skin and I try to focus on the wrench in my hand while I tighten a bolt. "Yeah. Fuck. Maverick, what is this?"

"This is me checking on you. I'm worried about you."

"Well, fucking quit it." I toss the wrench onto the counter and Maverick shoots a glare at me.

"I'm just trying to be a good friend here. If you're fine and you're gonna be fine then I guess I've got nothing to worry about."

"It doesn't matter. Because I don't have a fucking choice. Do I?"

Maverick scratches his beard while he purposely makes eye contact with me. "You do have a choice. Have you tried asking her to stay?"

Heartache throbs in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut. "What's the point? She's made up her mind. She's had a plan since before she even got here."

"Fuck that. You should know plans mean jack-shit. Life happens. Sometimes you gotta roll with it."

"She's gotta stay because she wants to stay. Not because I've guilted her into it."

"Who the hell said anything about guilting? Jones, if she loves you, she'll stay. And if you love her, you'll ask her to."

I shake my head as my brain vibrates with overstimulation. Too many decisions. Too many questions. Too many fucking emotions.

"What if she says no?" I mumble.

Maverick twists his lips and hunches one shoulder before he finally says, "Then at least you can say you tried."

Despite my millions of reminders on how crucial it is for Rosie to not be late, she rolls up to the park in the center of town thirty minutes after set up time. The rest of the vendors are almost done setting up. Now the rest of them will have to rally together to help her. I can't help but wonder if this was her plan all along.

"You're late," I grumble after she hops out of the Brew Box's van.

"Fashionably, as always though," she says, happily.

"Just hurry the hell up. People are already whining about coffee."

"People, or you, Jonesy?"

"Just make the damn coffee, woman," I mutter.

Nico climbs out of the passenger side of the van and my anxious nerves lessen. He gives me a head nod and doesn't waste any time unloading their gear. Thank God for Nico. He's definitely the better half of those two. I don't care how good of a lover he says she is. He's the saint in my eyes.

After a quick survey of the park, excitement thrums in my chest. Seeing all the local vendors setting up and the first aid and hydration teams prepping to hit the trail with their gear, a sense of pride washes over me. There's something about finally witnessing all your hard work pay off.

Some of the participants are already at the registration booth. Bikes are visible in every direction. Kids run around. The gazebo in the park has been decorated in memory of past Bikes and Beers participants. This is new this year. It was Mia's idea.

It draws me in, and I walk toward it until I can see more clearly. But when I spot photos of people I recognize, I stop dead in my tracks. Gigi, my mom. My eyes water for the second time today.

Suddenly, gentle, loving arms wrap me up from behind. I drink in Mia's delicious scent. My hands cover hers while she clutches them to my chest.

"Do you like it?" she whispers.

"Nah."

She releases me a little and I pull her back and chuckle.

"I love it."

"You sure it isn't too cheesy for a fun event like Bikes and Beers?"

"No way. Gigi was a town favorite. She loved a good beer. And never missed an event. My mom neither. She's the one who taught me how to ride a bike, ya know?"

"I remember," she says, her voice soft.

I turn in her arms to face her. "It's really sweet. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I kiss her hard and long and for a moment I fantasize about skipping the event and taking her up to my apartment. Where there would be no distractions or no one to interrupt us because the entire town is here.

But she pulls back and says, "Hey, where's my dad?"

As if on cue, Mr. C. comes rolling up on his makeshift bike. His smile is the first thing I see. The next is Mia's. Her entire face is beaming at the sight of her dad on a bike.

The part I built attached to his wheelchair perfectly. It won't go fast, but he wasn't planning on participating in the ride, he only wanted to keep some of his dignity. And by the way he sits upright and proud behind the handlebars, I'd say it worked. A feeling of fulfillment blooms in my chest.

Mia swipes at a tear. "This is what you were working on last night?"

I shrug and push away a sheepish grin. "He wanted to ride. I had no choice."

"Yes, you did." She pushes on tiptoe and presses a kiss to my cheek. "You are so gonna get rewarded tonight," she whispers in my ear, her breath tickling me.

"I've never been one to turn down a reward," I say, my words rumbling out.