"Dad, I'm making omelettes. Don't you want one before you go?"
"I don't have time today. I'm sure Tor will eat one, though." He kisses her forehead. "I'll be home around four. We'll have dinner together."
I'm not about to turn away food. "Actually, I could use something to eat." Kenzi makes wicked omelettes, expertly folded like they give you at a diner. When I try to make one myself, it ends up looking like road kill.
As soon as Asher's gone, I get up and dump the coffee he made and start a new pot. He always makes this expensive columbian crap that's way too strong and it makes my heart jump around for the rest of the morning.
"Did you sleep in my shirt?" I ask.
She flips the omelette in the pan and peeks at me from behind the veil of messy golden hair falling over her face.
"Maybe..."
Scowling, I take two plates out of the cabinet and set them next to the stove for her. "Kenz...I had that on while I was working on a bike yesterday. It's probably got grease on it. And sweat."
Shrugging, she transfers a perfect omelette onto one of the plates. "You can have that one. And so what? I like it. It's cozy."
"It's dirty."
She laughs. "Cozy. Dirty. What's the difference? I like how it feels and smells."
Her liking the feel and smell of cozy and dirty while she's wearing nothing but my shirt is not something I should be thinking about. But I do, for a quick second, before I bury it deep in that place in my chest with the other thoughts I don't let myself think about.
Like the thoughts that Ember should have been mine.
And the thoughts that I wish I had a chance to say goodbye to my father.
And the thoughts that I should have been there to help my brother.
And the thought that I should have tried harder with Sydni years ago.
And let's not forget the thought that I should have stayed in the band.
So many regrets.
I wait for her to sit with me at the table before I cut into the omelette, because my mom raised me with manners, and high on that list is you don't start eating until everyone is seated at the table.
"So...you had yourself a little binge last night?" Her eyes dance as she chews and swallows. "What brought that on?"
"Just a bad mood, I guess. It's not going to be a habit."
"A bad mood named Sydni or a bad mood named Lisa?"
"Eat your breakfast. And both."
"Neither one of them are worth drinking over, Uncle Tor. You want to turn into a drunken mess again?"
I glare at her for bringing that up. A few years ago I had what you might call a drinking problem, but I'll never go down that road again.
"Not gonna happen."
"Good. Because I'm older now and I'm armed with a cell camera and Instagram. I'll document all your embarrassing drunk moments."
"I'm sure you would, brat."
She tilts her head at me, chewing her lip, and I know that look all too well. It means she's thinking about asking or telling me something. I brace myself, because Kenzi saves all her deepest and craziest conversations for me. "Chloe thinks I should give up my V-card to Jason." She finally says.
I choke on my coffee.
"Chloe should keep her mouth shut. And her legs." Christ. I'm totally not prepared for this conversation, especially hung over. I was expecting her to want tattoo's or nose piercings, or maybe purple hair to match her socks. But not sex.
"Why? I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen. Maybe she's right."
I wipe my mouth. "She's not."
"How old were you?"
"When?"
"Your first time."
"That's different, I'm a guy."
"Well how old was she, then? The girl you did it with?"
Fuck.
"Kenz, you should only be doing that when the time is right. With the right guy."
"I know...but what if the right guy never comes?"
"He will." As I sit here still single at thirty-two. "You're young, just enjoy your life and don't worry about sleeping with guys. Your father will have a shit fit if he hears you talking like this. You want to give him a heart attack?"
She rolls her eyes. "He still thinks I'm five."
"So do I."
She kicks me under the table. "No, you don't. You're not nearly as bad as him. And my mom had to be about fourteen, obviously, when she started having sex."
"I think you should talk to your grandmother about this. Or your aunt? Maybe Rayne? Someone of the female persuasion?"
Her nose crinkles. "Nah. I'd be too uncomfortable talking to them."
"But not with me?"
She shakes her head. "I like talking to you. You listen to me and you don't judge me."
"I'm flattered. But I'm the last fucking person to be giving relationship or sex advice."
I lean back in the chair and push my empty plate away. I can't think about Kenzi having sex. My brain is way too mangled up with visions of her as a little girl and the glimpse of her half-naked ass I saw a few minutes ago. She's growing up too fast. It seems like just yesterday I was babysitting her. Now she's asking me questions about sex and looking less like a little girl and more like a woman. It's confusing as hell, and I have no idea how Asher is dealing with this shit.
"Most of the girls I know have had sex already, way before they were seventeen. With a few guys, even. Not at the same time, though...at least I don't think so. You know what I'm saying, right?" She pauses and I nod, dumbfounded and at a loss for words. "I don't feel that way about any of the guys I've dated, though. I don't even like kissing them," she plays with her napkin and doesn't look up at me. "Do you think maybe there's something wrong with me? Why don't I feel anything yet?"
I suppress the laugh and relief I feel. "No, Angel. I think you're fine."
"Really?"
"Really. You'll feel it when you're ready and when it's the right guy. You can't force it. It should mean something, ya know? Especially your first time. Don't do it just because fuckin' Chloe says to. Just be you, like you've always been. Don't cave to pressure now. That's never been you."
She nods slowly. "I just hate always being the weird one that isn't doing what everyone else is doing. I want to fit in, for once."
"Trust me, you're not the weird one. You're unique. You've always had your own mind and your own plan. I'd hate to see you change and end up like everyone else out there. That would be a shame."
She fidgets with her fork, pushing a small piece of ham around on her plate. "I'm on the pill." She says softly, still looking at her plate.
I blink at her. "Come again?"
"The pill. Birth control."
"I know what it is, Kenzi. Why?"
"I was having a lot of cramps every month so Rayne took me to her doctor for a checkup. The doctor said it would help, and it has. I didn't tell my Dad, though, and I'm afraid he's going to find them and go ballistic."
"Well, yeah, of course he will."
"Chloe says it’s a good idea anyway, though, because guys don't like to wear condoms."
My jaw clenches so hard I'm afraid I'm going to crack a molar. "Listen to me, Kenzi. There's a lot more to sex than just getting pregnant. There's all sorts of diseases you can get." She stares at me, wide eyed. "When you start having sex, you better make the guy wear a condom until you're damn sure you can trust him. I don't give a fuck if some little douchebag doesn't like the way it feels. You stand your ground and make him, okay?"
"Okay."
"If anyone tries to pull that shit with you, I'll put them in a fucking hole, Kenzi."
I end the conversation by standing and taking our plates over to the sink. "I better get going, I should have been at the shop hours ago. I'll see you tonight? About six?"
"Sounds good." She stares out the window, lost in her thoughts.
"And wash my sweatshirt!" I yell over my shoulder on my way out the door.
As I drive to the bike shop, my mind keeps wandering back to the conversation I just had with Kenzi. Maybe I should have said more. Or nothing at all. I've always tried to be there for her, but I sure as hell don't know how to give sex advice to a teenage girl who's on the verge of giving up her virginity. The mere thought of it makes me feel sick. I can't even get my own shit together when it comes to dating.
She always comes to me when she needs to talk, though. Or when she's scared. Or has something exciting to share.
It really should come as no surprise since my name was the first word she ever said.
Now it's like we're verbally bonded.
The motorcycle shop is already open and blaring with the racket of heavy metal music and air tools when I get there. My brother Tanner usually opens up the shop and I close, because he's a morning person and I'm usually up late at night, saving lost pets and stalking bad guys. You think I'm kidding? I'm not.
The shop belonged to my father, Thomas Grace, who lived, breathed, and ate bikes, and he passed that passion down to his boys. The only thing he loved more than riding was my mom. And his kids, of course. But mom came first, and that's the way it should be.
That changed twelve years ago when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack. Bam. Gone.
Being the oldest, I had no choice but to step up and take care of the family business, my mom, my four younger brothers and my little sister. Six sets of eyes all looking at me to put us back together again. This went down just two months before the band’s big break, first major tour, and a record deal. I had to bail out of the band that me, Asher, and Ember started years before and watch from the sidelines as they became rich famous rock stars. Meanwhile, my guitar ended up in a closet collecting dust and my dreams slowly faded away. But hey, I get a royalty check since I wrote some of the songs on the first album. Yay, me.