Feels Like Home (Boston Sweethearts Book 1)

Chapter 1

Imindlessly count the raindrops trickling down the window pane in my office, wishing I were anywhere else.

Not like…dead per se, but not here.

Not crammed up in a room with hardly any air ventilation and an office buddy who doesn’t seem to understand that I like eating my lunch in peace. I’d usually welcome the conversation, but sometimes I don’t want to talk, and I’m tired of feeling like I need to when I don’t have the capacity to do so. I can barely get up in the mornings, let alone keep myself together long enough to make it through most days, and the last thing I want to do is listen to somebody talk about shit that doesn’t matter.

I’m tired a lot, I guess.

I never used to be like this—annoyed by the mere presence of people, but here I am, wishing I could give myself the time and space to exist without making sure those around me are okay. I’m tired of pouring into others’ cups when I can hardly fill my own. And there’s nothing severely wrong with me besides the good old mental illness thing and, of course, a somewhat traumatic childhood, but other than that, I’m not in the position to complain. I have a good job, a stable, affordable place to live in the heart of the city, and I don’t have to waste my money on expensive gas prices because I’m close enough to everything that I can walk to where I need to go.

So why does everything feel so hard?

“Daisy, are you listening to me?” my office buddy, Danicka, snaps suddenly, her sew-in braids whipping around her face.

I must have zoned out for a while because it’s clear she’s annoyed by the lack of attention I’ve given her. I only know this because she jerks her head forward with her eyes so wide they nearly pop out of their sockets, and her bottom lip juts out in an annoyed pout. She’s unimpressed. Or rather, annoyed, which she tends to be often.

“Sorry, what did you say?” My gaze slides from the window to her before looking down at the to-go container holding a limp salad in my lap. My stomach grumbles, but I’m suddenly uninterested in eating the salad I brought for lunch today. Why I bother letting my best friend convince me to eat healthy foods is beyond me. He cares about having a fat ass and a toned stomach, so naturally, when he wants to try something new, I torture myself because I can never say no. But even if we’re trying to be “healthy,” I can’t understand why I’d ever convince myself to eat something as shitty as a salad.

I toss it in the trash bin next to my desk.

“I said,” Danicka drawls irritably. “Duncan’s son is starting with the company today!”

“Oh,” I reply, twisting my mouth to the side as my gaze goes to the container of salad now in the trash. My stomach still grumbles softly, and I’m debating if it’s rude to walk out during this conversation to grab something else to eat, but there’s only four more hours until I’m done for the day. I can make it through.

Danicka rolls her eyes and shakes her head disapprovingly. “This is why nobody takes you seriously here, Daisy. Your head is constantly in the clouds!”

I fold my hands in my lap and lean all the way back in my chair, my eyes lifting to find hers yet again.

I’ve worked at Moore Enterprises for nearly five years, and I tend to avoid most people, including my office buddy. Granted, we work in the same space, but she is more gossipy than most and I’d rather not feed into that. I’m quiet and don’t talk unless spoken to because not only do I have crippling anxiety in most social situations, I don’t want to be caught in the rumor mill. I’ve managed to avoid it this long, and don’t want to start getting involved now.

“I wouldn’t say nobody takes me seriously,” I argue back to her. “And, my head isn’t in the clouds. I’m just focused on doing my job and going home when I’m scheduled to be off. I don’t care whether our new boss will notice me or not.”

“You should care,” Danicka mumbles, picking up her phone to glance at her notifications before setting it back down.

I tilt my head, squinting. “Why?”

She shrugs, face bored. “I heard he’s going to be firing a ton of people today.”

“Oh.” I say again, glancing down to my lap, unsure what I should say to that.

We’ve known about Tanner—Mr. Moore, as he wants to be called—taking over Moore Enterprises for a few months now. Duncan, our current boss and Mr. Moore’s dad, announced his retirement a few months ago and declared that his oldest and only son would be taking over. Apparently, the new Mr. Moore has been around the building a few times since his dad’s announcement, but I’ve gone out of my way to be scarce during his visits. The idea of interacting with somebody who may fire me down the line is less than appealing.

And now we’re here. The day it’s all happening.

“Daisy!” Danicka snaps again, this time causing me to straighten in my chair to face her. “You’re more spacey than usual. What gives?”

“I’m just tired,” I reply with a subtle shake of my head. I’m somewhat confused about where her sudden concern for my well-being is coming from, seeing as she never seems to care.

“But anyway,” I continue, trying to appear more interested in this conversation than what I actually am. “You said Mr. Moore is planning on firing a ton of people?”

Her body visibly relaxes, finally happy that I’m engaging with her. “Yeah,” she says, glancing over her shoulder towards our open door. My gaze follows before finding hers again. “Apparently,” she continues, “he has a list.”

My eyebrows raise, suddenly intrigued and also uncomfortable. “A list? Of people he’s planning on firing?”

“Mhmm,” Danicka nods, leaning forward. “I don’t know who all is on it, but I’d start anticipating more work.”

I frown, not entirely happy with that thought.

I’ve worked at Moore Enterprises as the Graphic Designer for five years. My role primary focuses on maintaining the overall aesthetic in our company. So basically, I upkeep our website and make changes to fonts and web designs, create ads and posters to help drive in sales, and work alongside marketing to monitor how those sales are being driven. The last part isn’t technically in my job description, but it helps me understand how we can bring more buyers to our online site.

“I guess we’ll have to see how today goes,” I finally say once I realize Danicka is collecting her laptop, personal phone, and a file folder with papers falling out of it. “Wait. Where are you going?”

She stops grabbing her things to lift her gaze to mine, eyebrows scrunching together. “Did you not get the memo? We have that big meeting downstairs in a few minutes. Apparently, it’s Mr. Moore’s introduction into the company. I wonder if he’s going to fire people there.”

“I hope not,” I mutter, mainly to myself. The idea of meeting our new boss for the first time and watching him fire people from his apparent list doesn’t sit right with me. At least if you’re going to terminate people, give them the dignity of privacy.

Why am I acting like I’m not on the list?

“I’m going to get a spot in the front row,” Danicka calls over her shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’ll see you down there.” She leaves without waiting for my response, and I finally take a deep breath. I don’t mind Danicka. I wish she’d talk less and stop gossiping about me when I’m in the near vicinity, but I think that’s just who she is.

Stretching my arms overhead before grabbing my own laptop, I’m halfway standing when a knock at my office door causes me to look up. My former boss stands in the doorway with his hands shoved in the pants pockets of his Brioni suit, his emerald eyes warm and crinkling around the corners.

“Head still in the clouds, Daisy?”

I bite back my smile and begin putting things into my tote bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

“Don’t you know how to mind your own business?”

He shrugs, a playful smile pulling at the corners of his mouth that makes me wonder if he’s always been so goofy and carefree.

“It’s my job to be in everybody’s business,” he replies. “Especially yours.”

I roll my eyes playfully and step out from behind my desk. “Careful. I’m already the talk of this floor. If Danicka learns I’m your favorite, she might get jealous.”

He laughs and shakes his head, faded brunette hair slicked still in place over his forehead. “I didn’t say anything about favorites.”

“You didn’t have to,” I reply, a smile tugging at my lips. “I just am.”

“You sound like my kids,” he smirks. “Might as well be at this point.”

A small part in my chest, presumably where my heart would be if it weren’t so detached, warms. Duncan and I have a good relationship—better than good, maybe. He’s the father figure I’ve always wanted, and something in his statement fills me with a heap of emotions I don’t know how to handle. There’s always been a warmth to him that’s made it easy for me to open up, despite my anxiety. Maybe it’s because he does remind me of what that missing figure in my life would be if I had one, or maybe it’s just him. Either way, I’ve always been comfortable enough around Duncan to be myself.

“I don’t think you could handle that,” I admit as I walk over to him in the doorway. “I can be a lot.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he says before opening his arm for me to walk into, as if he is my dad. “You better give my boy hell, Adams.”

Adams is my last name, which is only reserved for Duncan to call me by. We started using each other’s last names during the football season a few years back, often secretly betting on whether or not our team would win during lunch breaks. It’s our thing, and maybe it would be deemed inappropriate if others knew about it, but I don’t care. There isn’t anything inappropriate about our relationship, considering he’s this friendly and open with everybody, but with us, it’s that relationship with a father I’ve always wanted. I’ll take the stand-in any day if it means it’s Duncan.

“I don’t think he’s going to need it,” I mutter as I look out into the office space. We have a receptionist desk down towards the elevators, and currently, his son is swarmed by a group of women who also work on this floor, including my office mate. He’s seemingly kind to them, smiling and giving each their undivided attention as he listens to them intently, his eyes flicking up to look at me when he sees us in the doorway watching. My breath lodges in my throat suddenly, and I quickly divert my focus to my combat boots.

“He’s going to be under a lot of pressure,” Duncan says after dropping his arm from my shoulder. He turns his head away from his son to look at me. “Obviously, in more ways than one.”

My eyebrows furrow, unsure of what the insinuation means. Maybe Duncan is worried his son will get himself into a situation he won’t be able to get out of. I don’t know much about Mr. Moore, and while I don’t care to know, something about his dad’s statement seems weighted—like a warning I need to keep in the back of my mind.

As I look at the older man next to me and notice the worry lines etched into his forehead, I open my mouth to ask if he’s alright, but he beats me to it.

“Look out for him, would you?” he asks, his gaze still focused on his son. I open my mouth and quickly close it.

I don’t know how I feel about his request, but I’ll do it because Duncan asked. Even if it meant sacrificing some of my peace during the workday, I could walk a few offices down and check to make sure his son was still alive. My gaze briefly flicks back over to Mr. Moore and his posse.

“We’ve been sinking financially,” Duncan continues quietly. “And have been for years. It’s the reason Tanner is taking over. I’m hoping he’s able to shake things up and bring back more clients, but right now, we have to focus on the numbers, and they’re not looking good. People will lose jobs today.”

My eyes widen, and my gaze slides back to my boss. I don’t know why it surprises me that Danicka was right, seeing as she often knows the office gossip. “We’re actually downsizing?”

He purses his lips and furrows his brows, nodding more to himself before re-focusing his attention on me. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Daisy. Your job here is safe for as long as you want it. He knows that.”

He knows that? How many conversations have I been involved in between Duncan and his son?

I suddenly feel like throwing up from the nerves twisting in my stomach. I already didn’t know how I felt going into this meeting, but now I’m worried—not for myself but for the few people I do like here and their job security.

“I gotta finish preparing for this meeting, but I just wanted you to know,” Duncan says after a moment, angling his head to look at me. “Come find me after so you can meet Tanner.” “Wait,” I say, my hand reaching up to touch his arm. His gaze shifts down to my hand, surprise flickering across his face. I don’t initiate physical contact or intimacy often—a fear of being rejected and denied the reciprocation at the forefront of my mind, so the fact that I’m willing to do it should prove how much I trust the man in front of me. “What about Sam?”

His eyes soften when he finds mine again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The nerves plummet in my stomach. Like Duncan, Sam became my friend after pestering me during lunch. I don’t know what it is about people bothering me in my most vulnerable state—when I want peace and quiet—but they always do. Sam spent the his first year pestering me about graphics and advertisements even though he works in IT, and spilling the latest gossip to me. He reminds me of our office clown with twisted humor. I love it about him, and over the years, he’s slowly become my best friend.

Plus, he has bright pink hair. How cool is that?

Duncan squeezes my elbow gently, pulling me away from my thoughts, before walking towards the crowd of women, gesturing with his head for his son to follow him. I watch Tanner maneuver out of the crowd, flashing apologetic smiles to each woman before hustling toward his dad to walk to the elevator. Seeing them stand next to each other is uncanny. Tanner is a few inches taller than his Dad—by only one or two, and his hair is a twinge lighter, a sandy brunette color one would experience if they spent a lot of time in the sun.

They’re talking amongst themselves quietly, and from a distance, they do look like father and son, although it’s hard to tell other similarities from this far away. When they step into the elevator, Duncan hits the button to the lower level where the meeting will take place. Tanner looks around the office, striking green eyes honing in on me.

I want to look away and walk back into my office, but I don’t. I watch him with the same expression—a curiosity I’ve never felt for somebody before, trying to figure him out from afar. Mainly trying to understand how his eyes are so vibrant from this far away. How strong his jaw is and how beautiful his smile probably looks, curving with the muscles in his cheeks. It’s funny how we crave the things we won’t get, and I know a man like Tanner Moore would never look in my direction. And that’s okay. Really, it is, but I still find myself dreaming of it when we’re caught staring at each other. Blush hits my cheeks unexpectedly, and I look away but feel his stare until the elevator doors close.