Michael straightened his leather watch strap.

At four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon, a cold wind was blowing across Oakridge Community Park.

Noah was standing on the third rung of the metal jungle gym.

The four-year-old held his left sleeve tight in his right hand as he looked down at the scattered wood chips.

He had on a heavy blue winter coat zipped all the way to his chin.

Ten yards away, Derek knelt on the concrete walking path.

Michael watched his older brother work a silver wrench against the rear axle of Noah’s yellow bike.

The left training wheel was bent inward at an awkward angle and scraped against the thick rubber tire.

Derek had given him the bike for his birthday back in May.

“This side needs a new steel bracket,” Derek said.

Derek’s voice was quiet and gravelly and barely carried over the wind.

He rubbed his thick thumb against his knuckle.

Black grease was worked deep into the lines of his palms from a long week at the auto shop.

He kept his eyes on the loose hex nut.

“I can grab one Tuesday after work,” Michael said.

“The hardware store on Main has the heavy-duty ones.”

“Take a look at this up here.”

Michael went over to the bike.