Well, fuck. 

I groaned as the screwdriver slipped from my grip and hit the concrete ground by my feet. I took a couple of moments to glare at the object — as if that would magically return it into my hand. 

"You're going to break half of my shop one of these days, Reed," Rafael said from behind his desk. 

I narrowed my eyes at him and he flashed me a grin in return. There was only one thing left to do — I stuck my middle finger up at him. A chuckle escaped Rafe's throat. 

He was my boss. On paper, anyway. In reality, we were about the same age, both of us in our early twenties. We've known each other for quite some time before he inherited the body shop from his late father. 

It wasn't big but we had our loyal customers and that was good enough. 

"If it's your shop, then why am I doing all the work?" I asked as I bent over and picked up the screwdriver. 

Rafe didn't look up from his piles of paperwork, though a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

"Because I'm the boss. Obviously," he replied, very as-the-matter-of-factly. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled up the sleeves of my oil-stained shirt higher on my forearms. My gaze landed on the rose inked into my skin and I was unable to hold back the sigh. 

My mother, may she rest in peace, taught me at an early age that I needed to fight for what I wanted. I always figured that only meant for material things. Little did I know, I would lose the ground I had been walking on the moment that girl with big green eyes would show up on my doorstep. 

In the course of four-point-five seconds, my life was turned upside down. I had my own ray of sunshine by my side. 

Until she was ripped away from me. And again. And again. 

So, there I was — half-broken and waiting. Hope was all I had left. Hope, that someday things would be different. 

I always knew that love was meant to make you feel things you wouldn't feel otherwise. It's meant to deepen your connection, not only to the world but to another person. It's supposed to make you a better human being. 

I could safely say, she had made me the best version of myself. Vivi. 

The bed seemed so cold without her there. The closets were too empty, though I made sure to save a couple of her things. Just in case. Always, just in case. 

It had been four weeks and two days since she last forgot. It had been a week and four days since I last saw her and it had been three minutes and sixteen seconds since I last thought of her. 

I needed a smoke. 

"I'm taking a break," I announced and Rafe only nodded in response. 

I walked towards the exit, my fingers already trying to get a firm grasp on my pack of cigarettes. 

Before I even fully stepped outside, the pack slipped and fell onto the ground. Lovely. I stepped forward, trying to grab it but kicked it further away with my boot. The small package slid further down the sidewalk. 

Can this day be over, yet?

I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes to try and convince myself not to roll into a ball in a corner and fucking stay there. 

"Hey, is this yours?" a familiar voice questioned. Too familiar. 

"Huh?" 

I opened my eyes and sought the source of the feminine voice. A breath got stuck in my throat and I choked on my own saliva like the moron that I was. 

Via blinked in confusion and furrowed her eyebrows, her small hand still offering me the fallen pack of cigarettes. 

Holding my hand up, I needed to finish coughing before I would manage to give any kind of answer. 

Patiently as ever, the petite blonde waited, a small smile on her face. She had no idea who I was anymore and yet, she never ceased to amaze me with the kindness behind those eyes of hers. 

"Y-yeah, they're mine. Thanks," I finally managed to say, feeling more than just embarrassed. 

People would never believe this, but each time we were introduced, I was smooth as hell. That was the first time I failed. 

Nope. That was a complete lie. 

A melodic chortle escaped her rosy brims and she handed me the smokes. 

"You going to be okay?" she asked sweetly, her head tilted to the side. 

I could feel her gaze on me and it filled me with warmth. I had no way of explaining this to anyone but even when her memory was a blank slate, I never stopped feeling what she felt for me. That had me convinced her feelings never truly went away. But I wasn't sure — did that make it harder for us or easier? 

I gave her the widest smile I could manage and it wasn't even fake. 

"I think I'll live," I replied, a chuckle of my own bubbling to the surface. 

Via tucked a loose strand of her silky hair behind her ear, the smile never fading away. It never fucking went away and that was that girl's strength. I saw her at her lowest, so many times, and even with tears streaming down her face, scared to death, she never stopped smiling. 

Had I given enough reasons to explain why I loved her more than anything else in this world? 

I opened the pack and placed a cigarette between my lips before offering her one as well. 

"Thanks," she said and took one as well. 

I lit up hers first, then my own. The toxic vapor filled my lungs and gave me a momentary ability to think straight. After what happened a few weeks ago, I had to be extra careful with my choice of words. 

Via watched me curiously, her big, green eyes scrutinizing my face. I attempted to conceal my smile but failed. 

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I asked and touched my cheek with my dirty hand. 

Her eyes instantly widened, her jaw slightly dropping. The free hand flew over her mouth as a peal of laughter tickled her throat. 

"No, but now you do," she commented through chuckles. 

It took me a second too long to figure out what she was talking about. Then I looked at my palm and noticed my skin color has disappeared beneath layers of dust and dirt from the car I had been fixing. 

I sighed exasperatedly and Via chuckled again. 

"Hold still," she said and reached into her beige backpack. She pulled out some wet tissues and pressed one against my cheek, ever so gently scrubbing the dirt off. 

There was no way I could move. 

Could she hear the pounding of my heart inside my chest? 

"There's no point, he's still going to look like he just escaped a mine after the shift is over," Rafe's voice suddenly spoke from the entrance, causing both me and Via to jump. 

I turned my head and shot him the I'll-fucking-kill-you look but he seemed anything but fazed. In fact, he looked even more pleased with himself. 

A shade of pink covered Via's cheeks and I wasn't sure why — but the quiet giggle that came with it let me know it was in a good way. 

She pulled the inside of her cheek between her teeth before taking one more drag of the cigarette and put it out. 

Rafe and Via did know each other from before and Rafe knew just enough to keep his mouth shut from any dubious information. I told him the things he needed to know, no more, no less. 

"I should get going, anyway," Via spoke softly and glanced at Rafe who gave her a quick salute. 

"Zach, say bye to the pretty lady," Rafe said then. 

I wanted to drive his face into the ground. 

Via's blush deepened and she anxiously fixed her bright, yellow top. She always looked so fucking good in yellow. 

"Bye, Zach," she said, noting the way Rafe called me.

She was pressing her lips together to hide the simper as she walked past me and continued her way. 

I couldn't help myself. I had to look after her as I always did — just to make sure she was okay wherever she was going. Until she was out of my sight. 

As much as my mood skyrocketed, it also came crashing down as she turned around the corner, and my little ray of sunshine was hidden behind the grey clouds. 

A second later, my eyes were boring at Rafe. "I'm going to fucking kill you," I threatened. 

An exaggerated sigh left his lips as he finally looked up and stuffed his cell phone back inside the pocket of his work overalls. 

"I'd actually love to see you try," he taunted me. 

I grumbled under my breath, not wanting to admit out loud that he had a point. I was hazardous to myself, not anyone else. 

Flicking the end of my cigarette away, we returned to the shop. 

***

"Get up, lazy!" Montana's voice echoed through my room, startling me awake. 

My head shot up from the pillow and a low, sleepy groan left my lips. I faced my sister who was lingering in the doorframe of my bedroom. 

"How the fuck did you get in here?" I asked as I rubbed my face. 

Montana acted completely casual over the fact that she basically broke into my apartment. Again. 

"You need to start hiding your spare key better," she scolded me and left the room. 

I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to awaken the remainder of my brain cells. 

"Yeah, just from you!" I shouted after her. 

While I loved my little sister dearly, she could be a handful. Partially, I couldn't really blame her. Things haven't been the easiest on her. 

She spent her days taking care of our paraplegic father and still managed to keep my ass in line. 

"So, are you getting up or what?" she yelled from, I guessed the kitchen. 

I rolled my eyes to myself and reluctantly slipped from my bed. Grabbing yesterday's T-shirt from the ground, I took a quick whiff and decided it was good enough to be worn for another day. I pulled it over my head as I exited the bedroom and followed the pleasing scent of coffee. 

Montana was moving about my kitchen as if she owned the place. She was finishing up the dirty dishes, cooking a quick breakfast and coffee, and it wasn't even eight. On a Saturday. 

She was efficient, I had to give her that. 

I sauntered toward the coffee machine and poured two cups. My digits latched around the first one and I leaned against the counter, watching my sister with a small frown on my forehead. 

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Evan?" I asked against the rim of my mug, just moments before I took the first sip. 

Montana's movements slowed down, the corner of her eye darting in my direction as she put the last clean plate into the cupboard. 

"Dad, Zach. He's our dad," she corrected me softly. 

I huffed and took another sip of my coffee to refrain from commenting. 

"He's been asking about you," she continued, quietly so. 

The only response I was able to give at the moment was pushing myself from the counter and heading over to the kitchen table. I sat down and picked up a cigarette and a lighter. 

"It's been three years, Zach," Montana stated, her voice sounding like a plea. 

Our family was a little broken ever since mom... 

"Yeah. It's been three years and they're still dead, Mon," I replied without looking at her. 

I placed the cigarette between my lips, lit it up, and practically tossed the lighter back onto the table. 

"Is that why you're here? To guilt trip me into going to see him?" I asked her. 

Montana might be younger than me but she was always smarter and much more rational. I had always been more impulsive, acting on my emotions. 

"I'm not trying to guilt-trip you into anything, Zach but holding this grudge... It's not good for you. You have to face him at some point." 

I remained quiet, focused on the nicotine stick between my fingers. I watched the smoke dissolve with the steam coming from my cup of coffee. 

"He killed them, Mon," I almost whispered after nearly a minute of silence. 

"If the road wasn't snowy—" 

"No. Don't you fucking dare. If he was sober, the snowy road wouldn't have made any fucking difference," I snapped back. 

The brunette pursed her lips and lowered her gaze. 

"For me?" she tried again. 

That was a dirty game she was playing. She knew damn well I would've done anything for her. 

"That's not fair," I protested. 

Her brown eyes stared at me, watching me crack under the pressure. I lost every fight I had with her, except when it came to talking about our father. She hadn't won that fight for three years and yet, it seemed my winning streak was coming to an end. 

I pursed my lips. "Fine." 

So, that was how my Saturday was going to go. Those days of the week were reserved for my mother and Via's parents. I visited their graves and replaced the withered bouquets with fresh ones. I updated Caroline and Richard Axton about their daughters and told my mom about everything that's been going on. It became a routine I adapted to in the last few years and I never missed a day. 

Montana let out a sigh of relief and wrapped her arms around me. Hesitantly, I returned the hug but I knew how much it meant to her. 

"But I'm not doing this to make amends, Mon. I'm doing this because you asked me to, not to become his son again," I asserted. 

She knew that was the most she could get out of me and — at least for now — she seemed satisfied with my answer.