The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 17

Everyone in this story is 18+

Broken Parts

The shop was quiet, just the faint hum of the heater breaking the silence. I was tightening a bolt on a stubborn engine block when I heard Joe’s boots echo against the concrete. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against a workbench with that familiar casual authority, but his expression was different today—less commanding, more... thoughtful.

“Kid,” he started, his voice unusually soft. “We gotta talk.”

I looked up, wiping my hands on a rag. “What’s up?”

Joe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinkin’ about what happened... with you, me, and Connor. And I need to say something. If I ever pushed you into somethin’ you didn’t want, that’s on me. And I’m sorry.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Joe, you didn’t push me. I... I did it willingly.” My chest felt tight as I tried to explain. “The problem is I wanted it. And I didn’t. At the same time. I think I’m just... messed up. Maybe it’s some kind of Daddy issue or whatever.”

Joe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Trust me, kid, I can relate to that.” He paused, his gaze shifting to the wall like he was seeing something far away. “But what I regret more than anything is not bein’ a better father myself. I wasn’t there for Connor growin’ up, and I sure as hell didn’t set the best example.”

He looked back at me, his eyes heavy with something deeper than guilt. “If I’d known you and him had a thing... I’d never have come onto you.”

My stomach twisted. “When did you figure that out?”

Joe sighed, crossing his arms. “Well, let’s just say that ain’t the first time Connor’s caught me in... an indiscretion. There’s a reason me and his mother aren’t together anymore.” His voice softened, almost breaking. “The look in his eyes that night? That wasn’t just shock—it was heartbreak. Same damn look his mom had when she found out I was screwin’ some guy on the side. Poor woman. She really does deserve the house, and more.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet, letting him continue.

“And you,” Joe said, his voice steadying. “I should be mad at you for hurtin’ him like that. But... I’m far from a saint myself. I wasn’t lying when I said you remind me of me at your age.” He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “One piece of advice, kid: Stay faithful to the ones you love. Don’t live a lie. It eats you up from the inside.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I wasn’t unfaithful. Not exactly. We weren’t really a couple or anything. But... I saw it in his eyes too. The hurt. And I get it. I’d feel the same if I saw him with someone else.”

Joe nodded slowly, like he was weighing my words. “Then don’t screw this up more than you already have.”

“I won’t,” I said, though my voice wavered.

Joe’s expression softened, a small, almost wistful smile tugging at his lips. “I’m takin’ off until after Christmas. Was supposed to go to Connor’s recital, but I figure I’m the last person he’d want to see right now. Old Tom’ll handle things while I’m gone. Stick around, though. You might be a bit of a screw-up like me, but you’re a damn good mechanic. And you’re still young, kid.”

Before I could respond, he clapped my shoulder and headed toward his Camaro parked out front. I stood there, watching as he slid behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life. He gave me a brief wave before pulling out of the lot, taillights fading into the distance.

Connor’s recital. Today.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, lingering as I stared after Joe’s car.

As I stood there, staring at the empty spot where Joe’s Camaro had been, Old Tom emerged from the office, coffee in hand.

“Well, kid,” he said, his voice gruff but warm, “let’s call it a day.”

I nodded, wiping my hands on the rag.

“Joe ain’t much for chit-chat,” Tom continued, “but he did say somethin’. Told me to tell you to go talk to that boy—Connor, right?”

My throat tightened, and I fiddled with the rag. “Did he, uh... say anything else?”

Tom sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable. “Just that you’re a decent mechanic, even if you’ve got a knack for complicatin’ things.”

A short laugh escaped me despite myself. “That sounds about right.”

Tom gave me a knowing look. “Don’t leave it hangin’, kid. That’s the kind of thing you’ll regret.”

“Thanks, Tom,” I muttered, grabbing my jacket.

He raised his coffee mug in response. “Just don’t screw it up worse.”

---

I grabbed my board and skated toward Connor’s place, the cool evening air whipping against my face. My thoughts raced faster than my wheels, a jumble of regret and determination. Maybe if I explained—really explained—he’d understand. I didn’t want to hurt him.

I liked having him around. Liked how I could just be myself, no walls, no bullshit. Hell, maybe I even loved it—having someone I didn’t have to pretend with for once.

As I cruised down the street, something caught my eye: a small kiosk with a display of roses. I stopped, staring at the vibrant blooms. Doesn’t everyone buy flowers to apologize? I’d never done it before—not even for Gabby—but something about Connor made me want to try.

I bought a bouquet, gripping it awkwardly as I skated the rest of the way to his house. Each push of my board felt heavier, my chest tightening with every turn.

I knocked on the door, my chest tightening as I heard music from inside—soft, deliberate, the kind Connor always practiced to. The door opened abruptly, and there he was, wearing sweats and a tank top, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His blue eyes widened when he saw me.

“Hi. I’m so sorry, Conn. I never mea—” Before I could finish, he cut me off.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Connor snapped, his voice sharp.

“I just…” My voice trailed off, and I handed him the roses, swallowing hard. “I needed to talk to you. To explain. Please! I want to come to the recital today!”

“Explain?” He let out a bitter laugh, snatching the roses and tossing them hard into the bushes behind me. “What’s there to explain? And the recital? Are you crazy, stupid, or both? After what you and my dad did? Ryder, are you serious?”

I flinched but forced myself to stand my ground. “It wasn’t like that—”

“It was exactly like that!” he shouted, his voice rising. “I don’t want your excuses. I trusted you. We weren’t together or anything, fine. But I thought you at least had enough respect not to screw me over like that!”

“Connor, I—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” His voice cracked, and for a moment, I saw something beyond anger in his eyes—something raw and utterly heartbroken. “And don’t even think about coming to that stupid recital. Just get the fuck out of my life!”

His words hit like a sledgehammer, and all I could do was nod, my throat too tight to speak. He turned and walked back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling the weight of everything I’d lost settle over me like a storm cloud. I grabbed my skateboard and hurled it down the driveway as hard as I could, the clatter echoing in the quiet street. My chest heaved with anger, but it wasn’t at him—it was at myself. What did I think he would do? Welcome me with open arms? Forget everything and just let me back in?

And then I felt it—something I hadn’t in years. Tears, streaming down my face.