Chapter 10 #2
Gah, the man was infuriating, and before I could think things through, I called him and got his voicemail.
“Tucker Colburn. You know what to do,” said his deep voice.
My finger hovered over the End button. My chest tightened. Somewhere between my ribs and throat, regret started sharpening its claws.
Because I knew exactly what to do. “You got the cops in trouble? You had no right to step in or try to fix things for me. Do you even care how weak it makes me look? Stay out of my business. In fact, stay out of my life.”
I disconnected and took a breath as regret slid through me. Shit. I hated how fast I could go from empowered to trivial. From strong to scared. I stared at my phone, wishing I could unsend the message. But not even Google had a fix for me.
Good to know I was still really good at making my problems worse whenever possible.
Okay, so maybe…maybe, if he was at the station, he wouldn’t have time to check his voicemail. A girl could hope.
My dad appeared. “Hey.”
“Hey back,” I said, still staring at my phone, still filled with equal parts panic and bad temper. “Aren’t you on the North Bend project today?”
“I am.” He toed the panel I was about to install. “You’re not going to put it in like that, are you?”
I drew a deep breath. “Is that my dad asking? Or a rep from Colburn Restorations?”
He scowled. “One and the same. Grab the goddamn plans; I’ll show you how you need to do it.”
“Dad. We talked about this. You’re not my boss. I’m my boss, and I was hired to do things my way.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got decades of experience on you.”
Aware of the guys nearby, I dragged him into the oversize front-hall closet that was empty except for two boxes of scrap wood that hadn’t been taken out yet. “Did you forget we promised no jobsite fights?”
“Who’s fighting?”
“Your level of decibels suggests we are.”
He sighed and kicked one of the boxes. “I’m trying to help you.”
I took a deep breath. That thing I’d said to Tucker—about no one making me feel worth staying for—maybe it had started right here. “Dad, I know what I’m doing.”
“Fine!” He tossed up his hands. “Don’t come to me when you fuck it all up.”
I flinched like he’d slapped me. “Wow. Nice.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, apology all over his expression. “Hazel—”
“No.” I didn’t want to hear it. “We’re not doing this now, not here. I need a moment.”
“But—”
“I need a moment,” I said firmly.
He sighed and left just as my phone rang.
Normally I didn’t answer calls from unknown numbers. But something in me cracked. Maybe it was the fight I’d just had with my dad, or maybe it was the voicemail I’d foolishly left Tucker—both were burning a hole in my chest. But maybe I was just tired of avoiding everything.
So I picked up.
“Hazel Pierce?”
The voice was crisp, professional, feminine. I straightened instinctively, like she could see me slouched in a half-empty closet surrounded by scrap wood and wounded pride. “Speaking.”
“I’m calling from Alder & Stone Restoration in Seattle. We just saw the San Francisco Chronicle feature on the Henderson project—stunning. Especially the millwork. We hear that was you. Is that true?”
The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding shook loose. “Um…yeah. That was me. And thank you.”
“We’re looking to expand our custom-woodworks division, and after seeing your handiwork, we’d love to bring you on board. Not as a subcontractor but as staff. Project manager. Full-time. You’d run the entire division.”
I blinked as my brain tripped over itself. “Really?”
“Yes. I’m prepared to offer you a contract. It’d be a year commitment, renewable annually. Full benefits. Relocation costs included. I know this might be out of the blue, but we wanted to reach out before someone else did.”
My mouth had gone dry. This wasn’t just a job.
This was the job. A career move. The kind of future I used to dream about.
The one I’d worked for, fought for, built from nothing.
But it meant leaving—again. Starting over—again.
But this time, it wouldn’t be running. It would be choosing. And that made it so much scarier.
Because by choosing me, I wouldn’t be choosing Tucker.
No, I couldn’t go there. He didn’t factor into this decision. Just the thought of no more scraping together project bids, or wondering if I could afford a new jigsaw blade was…everything.
I sat down hard, knees going wobbly. “That’s an…incredible offer.”
“Then say yes.”
A shocked laugh slipped out of me. “I’m not an immediate-yes girl.”
“You need dinner first? We’ll fly you up. You’re the one we want, and that you’re a woman is personally exciting to me. One of the owners is a woman as well, and it’s very important to her that the company represent.”
I shook my head, still stunned. “I’d like to look over the offer and get back to you.”
“Of course,” she said smoothly. “We’ll email it right away. And once you’ve had a chance to read through it, let’s set up a video call to talk details.”
I agreed, and when we hung up, I sat there for a long second, still holding the phone like it might vanish, my heart thudding, wild with disbelief.
This kind of thing didn’t happen to people like me.
I let out a breathy, stunned laugh—the kind you give when the universe throws you a curveball in the best possible way. It turned into a full-body laugh, helpless and a little hysterical.
And that was when I realized the job wasn’t the only thing asking me to choose.
The closet door opened.
And there stood the main thing between accepting the job and saying no.
Tucker.