Chapter 14
14
DEAN
I wasn’t in the mood for company, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. The beach was buzzing with activity, locals swarming like ants as they prepped for the Lake Festival. It was exactly what it sounded like. The annual celebration of the lake and the town. It was all about celebrating the beach, and the simple life we all loved.
And it was a huge boon for local businesses. Hotels filled. Rentals maxed out. Restaurants and the mom-and-pop shops all made money. Even my shop. And of course, the weather was hot and humid and generally uncomfortable to do physical labor in.
Vendors were setting up food stalls, kids were running around with balloons, and a group of musicians were tuning their instruments nearby. Meanwhile, I was hauling lumber, sweat dripping down my back as I helped build the stage for the bands. I couldn’t count the number of bug bites I got. They were drawn to the sweat. It was brutal, but I loved hard work. Burning muscles chased away unwanted thoughts.
Unfortunately, the sun was relentless, beating down on us. The one day there was no breeze. My shirt was soaked through. Like a damn sauna, I thought. My mood was souring by the minute. I hated the chaos of events like this. Too many people, too much noise, and too many expectations. I just wanted to get the damn stage built and go home. I had zero intention of actually attending the festival. It was not my thing. I knew people thought I was a reclusive asshole.
I didn’t care.
“Dean, you got that beam?” one of the guys called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I grunted, hoisting the heavy piece of wood onto my shoulder. “Yeah, coming.”
As I carried the beam over, I noticed Seth and his friends lounging nearby, cracking open energy drinks I had provided for the crew doing the actual work. They were laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. They weren’t lifting a finger to help, of course. Typical Seth. He’d always been more interested in having a good time than doing any actual work.
One of the guys I was working with, Tom, shot a glance in Seth’s direction and shook his head. “Must be nice to be able to do nothing all fucking day.”
I hefted the beam higher on my shoulder, the rough wood digging into my skin through the thin fabric of my worn shirt. The weight was nothing—I’d carried heavier loads for longer stretches—but the heat was something else. The kind of heat that made it hard to breathe, like the air itself was trying to smother you. Sweat dripped down my temple, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand, leaving a streak of sawdust across my face.
I carried it over to where he and a couple of other guys were working, dropping it into place with a dull thud. They barely glanced at me, too busy hammering nails into the frame.
“Fucking hell,” one of them muttered, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “This heat’s brutal.”
“Tell me about it,” Tom said, leaning on his hammer for a second. He jerked his chin toward Seth and his gang of buddies lounging in the shade a few yards away. “Meanwhile, those assholes are over there doing nothing but laughing and drinking our energy drinks. Pricks.”
The other guy snorted. “No shit. You think they ever learn?”
I shot a glance over at Seth and his friends. They were sprawled out on a couple of fold-out chairs, legs kicked up, looking like they didn’t have a care in the world. One of them had his arm slung over the back of his chair, laughing at something Seth had said. Another was cracking open another energy drink. My jaw clenched.
“Nice of them to pitch in,” Tom said dryly, driving a nail into the frame with more force than necessary.
“Yeah,” the other guy, Rob, chimed in. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a rag that was already soaked through. “Real team players, those guys.”
I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Seth was my brother, but he’d always been this way. Lazy, entitled, and perfectly content to let everyone else pick up the slack. It wasn’t anything new, but it still grated on me. Especially today, when the heat was making everyone irritable and the work was piling up.
“Want me to say something?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation, but if they wanted me to handle it, I would.
Tom grimaced. “Shit, sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”
I knew what people thought about Seth. They usually kept it in check when I was around.
“Forget about it,” I said. “Trust me, I know.”
“Kid’s got no respect,” Rob said. “You’re the dude with the bank account and you’re the one busting your ass. He should be in here sweating his ass off like the rest of us.”
I didn’t respond, just grabbed my water bottle and took a long drink. Tom wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk about Seth. He was my brother, yeah, but that didn’t mean I had to defend him. Especially not when he was being a lazy ass.
“Let’s just get this done,” I said.
The sun was relentless, scorching everything it touched as we hammered the last few planks into place. My arms ached and my hands felt raw from gripping the hammer all day. But the stage was almost done. Just a few more nails, and we could call it.
I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. That only served to smear more sweat. The heat was unbearable, but there was no point in complaining. I’d worked through worse. Tom and Rob were still at it, their faces red and their movements slower now, but they didn’t stop either. They were good guys—hard workers who didn’t need to be told twice to get something done.
Seth and his friends were still lounging in the shade, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world. I could hear them from where I worked, their voices carrying over the hum of activity around us. My jaw tightened, but I kept my focus on the task at hand. The sooner we finished this, the sooner I could get out of here.
“Last one,” Tom said, driving the final nail into the frame with a final thunk. He leaned back on his heels and let out a long breath. “Thank God that’s done. Why do we hold this festival in the heat of summer every fucking year?”
I gulped down water. “Hell, if I know.”
The sound of a sharp laugh cut through the air. I turned to see Seth and his crew standing now, stretching like they’d just run a marathon instead of doing absolutely nothing. Seth caught my eye and flashed a grin that made my stomach twist. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, as casual as if he hadn’t just spent the last three hours lounging around while the rest of us worked.
“Stage looks good,” he said, nodding toward the structure we’d just finished. “You guys really outdid yourselves.”
I stared at him, the heat of the day making my temper flare hotter than usual. “Yeah. Would’ve been nice to have some extra hands.”
Seth shrugged, unfazed. “You know me, Dean. I’m more of a supervisor type. Besides, you didn’t ask.”
I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might crack. “Didn’t think I needed to.”
He laughed, clapping me on the shoulder like we were sharing some inside joke. “Relax, man. It’s just a stage. Not like it’s life or death.”
Tom and Rob exchanged a look but stayed quiet, wisely keeping out of whatever was about to go down. Seth laughed and walked away. I had a feeling he knew I was about to lose my shit.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s finish the stairs for this thing. I need a cold beer and a lot of AC.”
Tom and Rob nodded, their expressions a mix of relief and exhaustion. We moved to the pile of lumber for the stairs, each of us hauling a board over to the stage. My hands were sore, my back stiff from the hours of bending and lifting, but I didn’t let it show. Complaining wouldn’t get the job done any faster.
Fortunately, the stairs were the easy part. We quickly assembled them before standing in the shade of an oak tree.
“Hey, guys!” a woman yelled at us. “Come get some lunch. On the house.”
“She doesn’t have to tell me twice,” Tom said.
The three of us walked over to the food truck and ordered sandwiches and drinks. It was the break we needed. None of us talked or bothered with manners. We wolfed down the food like we might never get the chance to eat again.
Unfortunately, we weren’t finished for the day. I saw one of the ladies that ran the four-square club walking toward us. I didn’t even know people did four-square until two years ago when I had been recruited to help put together the floor they needed to do their little dance.
“Shit,” I muttered. “It’s too late for me, but you guys can still run.”
“What?” Tom frowned. He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. “Shit.”
“Too late,” Rob muttered.
We were roped into putting together the portable dance floor. Of course, nothing was ever easy, and the project took far longer than I hoped.
Later, when I was taking a break and trying to cool down, Seth found me once again. I had assumed he had left in search of air-conditioning away from the sights and sounds of hard work. I knew he had a strong aversion to both.
“Hey, big bro. You got some cash on you?”
I stared at him, my patience wearing thin. “Not for you.”
Seth’s smirk faltered, but he didn’t back down. “Come on, Dean. I just want to have a good time at the festival. You know, make the most of it.”
I shook my head, my voice firm. “I said no. I’m not buying you booze or whatever it is you think you need. It’s time for you to grow the hell up, Seth.”
Seth’s face twisted into a sneer. “Is this Portia talking? She’s got you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”
Something snapped inside me. Before I could think, I grabbed the front of Seth’s shirt, yanking him closer. “Drop it,” I growled, my voice low and dangerous. “Stop saying her name. And get the hell out of my face.”
Seth’s eyes widened, but he didn’t fight back. He just nodded, pulling free from my grip and backing away. “Alright, alright. I’m gone. Shit, you’re cranky when you’re hot.”
“I’m cranky when I’m busting my ass and you’re lounging around like you’re some fucking king too good to do peasant’s work.”
He smirked and shook his head. “Whatever.”
I watched him leave, my chest heaving with anger. I didn’t know why Seth always had to push my buttons, why he couldn’t just leave well enough alone. And bringing Portia into it? That was a low blow, even for him.
“Dean!” one of the guys called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You gonna help us with this or what?”
I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. “Yeah, coming.”
I walked back to the group, my muscles protesting every step. The portable dance floor was almost finished, but the last few sections were the hardest to align. We were all sweating buckets. I knelt down to help secure the final piece, my hands moving mechanically even as my mind buzzed with irritation.
“Alright,” I said, standing up and brushing sawdust off my jeans. “That’s it. We’re done.”
The others let out a collective sigh of relief, dropping tools and wiping their faces with bandanas or shirt sleeves. The festival setup was finally complete. The town square looked transformed—colorful banners fluttered in the breeze, the stage stood ready for performances, and vendors were setting up their booths, shade tents over picnic tables. It was a good feeling, seeing all that hard work come together, even if it had been a slog.
“Beer,” Tom muttered, already heading toward the nearest bar tent. “I need beer.”
I didn’t argue. A cold drink sounded perfect right about then.