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here?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘They have to be tightened in order. There’s a sequence involved in securing any engine component. This cylinder head has to torque down flat. I tightened the middle first, then worked out in a star pattern – going here, then here, then here.’ He pointed at various bolts as he explained.
    ‘Cool.’
    Dean began to unscrew the rattle-gun attachment from the air compressor hose. Casually, he said, ‘Rowan’s never hit anybody before, you know. He’s not a bad kid.’ When Ben didn’t answer, Dean filled the silence. ‘I’m not saying what he did is okay. It’s not.’
    Dean glanced over when Ben shrugged both shoulders and scuffed his shoe on the concrete.
    ‘‘S okay,’ Ben mumbled. ‘He should’a done it. I would’ve. If I wasn’t me, you know. If I was him.’
    This time Dean looked right at Ben’s round, bruised face. ‘You would have hit you if you were Rowan?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    Dean detached the rattle gun and held out the harmless hose. ‘Hold this for me. Why do you say that?’
    Ben’s fingers closed around the hose as a soft blush touched the arc of his cheeks. ‘I hurt Nina. I didn’t mean to.’
    Instinct battled common sense as Dean turned away to swap the rattle gun for the blower. His protectiveness was hot, and it burned his insides. The underside of his skin felt as if it was bubbling, and demands were lining up on his tongue, ready to dive from his mouth. But that wouldn’t get him anywhere. He needed to stay calm and he needed to keep the kid talking. He was getting answers. Had he really thought they’d be answers he wanted to hear?
    ‘She’s got a pretty big bruise,’ Dean said, feigning nonchalance. He took the hose back, pushed on the blower and squeezed the trigger. The nozzle blew fast, noisy air over Ben’s joggers and he jumped.
    ‘She cried,’ Ben said.
    And because Dean was listening closely, he could hear that Ben was close to doing the same.
    ‘Well, it hurt her.’ Dean didn’t know where in his body he was finding this light, conversational tone, because he felt like roaring.
    Perhaps Ben assumed that Dean knew the whole story, or perhaps he was desperate to confess, because suddenly Ben was speaking. Fast. ‘She made fun of me and I pushed her. I didn’t know the tap was there and she started to cry so I ran, and then I let Rowan hit me because I felt so bad, and then Rowan got in trouble and I just feel so bad!’ Fat tears rolled down his eyelashes and splashed onto his red cheeks. They slid down his chin and dropped onto his chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath and slapped his palms to his face, covering his eyes.
    Dean blinked at him, lost for words, replaying Ben’s confession over in his mind. Rowan had been protecting his sister. And Nina had been bullying Benjamin. His daughter had teased a boy so badly that the boy felt the need to push her away.
    ‘Don’t – don’t cry, Ben.’ Dean tried to remain in the moment, but his mind was charging ahead, visualising his evening and the long talk he was going to have with his kids. This all made a strange kind of sense. Nina was clever, but sometimes her social skills were a little . . . Maybe she wasn’t charming at school the way she was at home. And Rowan – well. Puzzle solved. Only loyalty would have brought about such a dramatic course of action, and Rowan still wasn’t talking about it because he was protecting Nina.
    Ben stared at the dirty concrete floor between their shoes and sniffed a few times. Dean reached over and patted him on the back.
    ‘Hey,’ he said, his voice kind, ‘chin up.’ Ben looked up, misery in his tear-filled eyes. ‘Does your mum know this is what happened?’
    A silent, slow shake of the head.
    ‘Okay. I’m going to straighten a few things out before you go home. You’re not going to get in any more trouble and Nina’s going to apologise to you tomorrow, so I want you to think about what you might like to say to her. But