Wise words from Granda Tony

Mallory

Da's garage smelled like oil and metal, the air thick with the familiar scent of grease and hard work. I'd been coming here since I was a kid, weaving between the cars and pretending I knew what I was looking at while my dad worked. It was like a second home—one of the few places in town where I felt completely at ease.

Which was why I didn't even hesitate as I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

I was looking for Dad, but the second I walked in, my steps faltered.

Because there, standing next to him, was Kian Holland.

I stopped short, blinking like my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no, there he was—hood down, sleeves rolled up, grease already smeared on his hands, listening intently as Dad pointed at the car engine in front of them.

What. The. Hell.

Kian didn't belong here. This was my dad's garage, my family's business. And he—he was the last person I expected to see here, let alone actually working.

AJ was across the room, aggressively organizing a toolbox, jaw clenched like he was barely holding himself together. Which told me this wasn't some weird hallucination—I wasn't the only one unhappy about this.

Dad glanced up and spotted me. "Mal, what are you doing here?"

I snapped myself out of my shock. "I was looking for you." My eyes flicked back to Kian. "Didn't realise you'd hired a stray."

Kian sighed, wiping his hands on a rag before giving me an unimpressed look. "Nice to see you too, blondie."

I ignored him and turned back to Dad. "Seriously? Him?"

Dad just shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Like this wasn't completely insane. "He came looking for a job. Figured I'd give him a shot."

"A shot at what?" I asked incredulously. "Getting arrested? Starting fights? Selling—"

"Mallory," Dad said firmly, giving me a warning look.

I huffed, crossing my arms. "You don't even like him."

Dad sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Liking him's not the point. He wants to work, and I need the help. End of story."

I glanced at Kian, who was watching me with that same unreadable expression he always had, like nothing got to him. Like he wasn't standing in my dad's garage, messing up my day just by existing.

I scoffed. "Unbelievable."

AJ, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. "Trust me, Mal, I already tried arguing. He's not going anywhere."

I turned back to Dad, making one last attempt. "Da, seriously?"

"Seriously," he said, finality in his tone. "Now, unless you came here to work, get out of the way."

I glared at Kian one last time before spinning on my heel and stalking away from my dad.

I couldn't believe this.

Kian Holland. In my family's garage.

This was going to be a nightmare.

I stormed out of the main garage, but I wasn't ready to leave just yet. If there was one person who would be on my side about this, it was Granda Tony.

I headed toward the smaller workshop at the back, where he usually spent his time tinkering with older cars or pretending to fix things just for an excuse to stay busy. Pushing open the door, I found him exactly where I expected—leaning over an old engine, cigarette hanging from his lips, completely in his element.

He glanced up as I walked in, his face breaking into a grin. "Well, look who it is. Shouldn't you be in school?"

"It's 3:30, Granda, school's finished," I said, dropping into the old leather chair in the corner.

"Ah," he said with a nod, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Fair enough." His eyes narrowed slightly, reading me like he always did. "What's put that look on your face?"

I huffed, crossing my arms. "Did you know Dad hired Kian Holland?"

His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Aye, I heard."

"And you're okay with that?"

Granda Tony let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Didn't say that. But it's not my call, is it?"

I groaned, leaning back in the chair. "This is a joke. He's a Holland, Granda. He has no business being here."

Tony exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching me carefully. "You don't think he deserves a chance?"

I scowled. "He doesn't even want a real job. He's probably just here to mess around or to get people off his back. He'll be gone in a week."

Granda hummed like he wasn't convinced. "Maybe. Or maybe your da's right, and the lad actually wants to work."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You don't believe that."

He took another slow drag of his cigarette before flicking the ash into an old coffee cup. "I believe people surprise you sometimes, Mallory. Whether you like it or not."

I didn't respond, just stared at the floor.

After a beat of silence, he sighed, shifting slightly on his stool. "You know... there was another young lad once. Not too different from Kian."

I frowned. "Yeah?"

Granda nodded, tapping ash from his cigarette. "Had a shite home life. A bit of a chip on his shoulder. Came in here looking for a job because he had nowhere else to go. I took him in. Taught him everything I knew." He glanced at me then, something knowing in his eyes. "You wouldn't believe the things people said about him. That he was a troublemaker. That he'd never amount to anything. That taking him in was a mistake."

I shifted uncomfortably, already sensing where this was going. "And?"

"And now he runs this place." Tony smirked. "Married my daughter. Gave me two beautiful grandkids."

I stared at him, stunned into silence.

He was talking about Dad.

Dad, who everyone respected now. Dad, who built this garage into what it was. Dad, who had never let anyone forget that his family came first.

I swallowed, my mind racing. I'd never thought about what he was like before all that. Before he was Joey Lynch—the man people knew now.

Granda's smirk didn't fade. "So maybe give the lad a chance, hmm?" He took another drag of his cigarette. "You might just be surprised."

I didn't know what to say.

I stood there for a moment longer, then turned for the door, my stomach twisting.

I still didn't trust Kian Holland.

But for the first time... I wasn't so sure I was right about him.