Chapter 3 Caleb #2
She typed something into my chart, then twirled her stool back to face me, smile gone, voice low now, just for my ears. “I think you’re a good man, Caleb. You stepped up at Colburn Restorations for Ryder. You take care of your father, disabilities and all. You—”
“I’m no saint.”
Some of her smile came back. “Oh, I know, Mr. Star Falls Athlete of the Year, whom everyone in school wanted to sleep with.”
I gave her a long look.
“Yeah, yeah, including me.”
We’d had sex under the bleachers.
During a football game.
While her dad had been one of the refs…
“You had zero worries back then,” she said.
If only she knew the truth. I’d had all the worries…
“It’s just good to see you being more than that all-star hockey guy. But take it easy on yourself, okay? You’re only human.” She rose. “Doctor’ll be in any minute.” She waved at Hank. “Give him hell.”
Two minutes later, Dr. Stranton walked in, cheerful as always. “My favorite hockey star. Miss watching you on TV, kicking ass and taking names. Your alma mater misses you too. They’re zero and four this season.”
He pulled out a massive needle, and I drew a deep breath.
“You miss it, son? The game?”
If I had a penny for every time someone asked me that, I could quit work, buy a bar on a quiet tropical island somewhere, and chill for the rest of my life. But people wanted to hear only one thing. “Of course.”
Doc nodded sympathetically. “How’s the leg?”
I nodded. “Good.”
“Liar. You lit up your latest scans like a Christmas tree. What’s your pain level between one and ready-to-jump-in-front-of-a-hundred-mile-per-hour puck?”
“One.”
He gave me a get real look.
“Okay, three, tops.”
Hank held up both hands, showing all ten fingers.
Dr. Stranton saluted him. “Thank you, kind sir.” He eyeballed me, his face stern now, which didn’t bode well for me. “You should’ve come in sooner.”
I shrugged. “Work’s a bitch.”
He shook his head. “You get any migraines lately?”
“No.” Yes…
“It’s not a weakness; it’s a medical condition brought on by your accident on the ice.”
“I know.” Didn’t care. Whenever I got a migraine, either Tucker or Ryder would give up everything to sit with me through it, and I hated it. Not their company, but the helplessness, the weakness, the lack of control, the need to be babysat.
He shook his head again. “After this steroid injection today, you need to think about scheduling that surgery.”
I’d had multiple surgeries in the years since the injury that had ended my hockey career. I had no interest in another. I also had zero interest in having that very long, thick needle shoved into my leg. “Sure.”
Knowing I was full of shit, Dr. Stranton leaned over me. “Just a little pinch now.”
Pinch, my ass. The shot felt like the aforementioned puck straight to the face.
“Good,” Dr. Stranton said, stepping back when he was done torturing me. “You only held your breath until you turned a little blue this time.”
I knew I was an intimidating guy. Didn’t mean I liked needles. “The joke better not cost extra.”
“Not for my favorite hockey star.” He patted my shoulder. “No work today; keep the leg up, relax.”
“Sure.”
Doc almost rolled his eyes, I could tell.
A few minutes later, I got Hank buckled into my work truck and slid my tired ass behind the wheel. Taking a second to lean my head back, I closed my eyes and drew a couple of deep breaths.
“Ah?”
“Need a moment.”
Exactly sixty seconds later, Hank once again stirred beside me.
“I’m fine.” Proving it, I started the truck and drove him straight to Nell, his absolute saint of a daycare provider, and the grandma to Ryder’s fiancée, Penny.
In the driveway, I turned to Hank. “Look, we’re new at this, and I promised to keep you safe and fed, but we are not friends. We aren’t ever going to be friends.”
“Ah.”
I had no idea what that meant, but I felt like an asshole anyway.
Half an hour later, I walked into Ryder’s office at Colburn Restorations. He was on the phone, so I sank into the chair across from his desk, hiding my wince.
Still talking, Ry tossed me a paper bag from his desk, one that smelled like Penny’s homemade breakfast burritos.
I felt like I’d died and gone to heaven.
I was halfway through the burrito when I realized Ry was watching me like a hawk.
I hadn’t told him about the injection and didn’t plan to, or he’d bench me.
The fucker was more annoyingly protective than a Rottweiler.
He was two years older and two inches shorter than my six-two frame.
His build was lankier than mine, but I knew from experience that he could give me a run for my money in a fight.
For a whole bunch of years, he’d played a lot of roles in my life: brother, mom, dad, jailer, defender, and best friend.
He, along with Tucker and Kiera, always, always, had my back, no questions asked.
We were close, even if we often acted like a pack of wild wolves, snapping at one another.
I was making a paper airplane with the wrapping from the burrito when Ryder finally got off the phone. “You’re limping.”
“You need to get your eyes checked, old man.”
Ry didn’t back off, just stared at me.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know.”
“I know you need another surgery.”
Fucking smart-ass know-it-all. “It can wait.”
Ry didn’t push me on that. “You need a break from Hank?” he asked. “Penny and I could take him—”
“No.” Growing up had been the hardest on Ryder. As the oldest, he’d taken it upon himself to stand between us and Hank. And now he finally had Penny in his life. No way was I going to foist Hank on him. “I’m good.”
Tucker strode in and threw himself into the seat next to me.
If Ryder was the family badass and I was the wild, restless former hockey player, Tucker was our resident rebel, and by far the most feral and adventurous.
He might be the youngest, but he had two inches even on me.
Deceptively lanky lean, he could, when he wanted, take me on and win at least half the time.
He was also the only one who could go toe-to-toe with Ryder and keep breathing.
“You’ve got me for…” Tucker eyed the time. “Fifteen minutes.”
He was our estimator, and because that was a feast-or-famine type of job, and because he had a hero complex, he’d been working as a volunteer firefighter since high school.
But Star Falls had finally gotten funding for their own fire station, and Tucker had been one of the first to be hired on as paid staff.
With his schedule of four days on, two days off, he spent his off days working here.
Which was good, because everyone knew Tucker was the true heart of our family, and the glue.
He used his iPad to cast on the wall, displaying lists of things we needed to go over. A not-so-subtle hint to hurry the fuck up. Tucker was the best of us on most days, but he hadn’t stood in line when patience had been doled out.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ryder said. “But first, since we haven’t all been in the same room this week…” He looked at me. “Heard you had a date last night.”
“You heard wrong.” The date had been two nights ago, and it had been a favor to a friend of a friend of a friend, so I’d stupidly caved.
“He must’ve gotten ghosted,” Tucker said.
“I didn’t get ghosted.”
Tucker smiled. “Oh, he definitely got ghosted. Don’t be embarrassed; you were due.”
I rolled my eyes so hard, I saw my own brain. “I’m not embarrassed about something that didn’t happen.”
“If you say so. Ghostee.”
“Okay, business it is then,” Ryder said quickly, before things dissolved, as they tended to do. He eyed the list on the wall and then looked at me. “How did the architectural meeting go?”
I was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear that Emma and I had a mutual dislike/mistrust thing going. Or that I’d had a dirty dream about her last night. And then an even better daydream this morning in the shower. “Handled the change-order list.”
“All of it?”
“That’s what handled means.”
He cocked his head. “Emma seems different from Ruth.”
If by different he meant Emma hadn’t yelled, bullied, or called her boss Rosalind Hall when things didn’t go her way, then yes. Very different. “Pretty sure we can all agree that’s a good thing.”
“You and Emma knew each other,” Ryder said casually.
“Past tense, yes.”
Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “What do I need to know?”
Sensing a fight, Tucker stirred. “Is this questioning going somewhere, Ry?”
Ryder didn’t take his eyes off me. “In this past tense, did you sleep with her?”
“Jesus, Ry.” Tucker shook his head. “Foul on the play. Get to your point.”
I was starting to regret getting out of bed this morning.
“I’ll rephrase,” Ryder said. “You plan to sleep with her during the duration of this job?”
“Out of bounds,” Tucker said in reproach.
“No, it’s not,” Ry said, voice hard. “No sleeping with anyone even remotely connected to one of our jobs.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I didn’t have a defense, given a past…indiscretion.
Tucker stood. “Great meeting, guys. Thanks for wasting my time.” He strode to the door.
“By my watch, I still own five more minutes of your time,” Ryder called out.
Tucker rolled his eyes dramatically and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t have time to break up a fight over one of Caleb’s past fuckups—”
I hoisted my paper airplane, and Tucker whipped his head to me.
“Blast me with that thing, and I’ll make you regret it.”
I promptly sent it flying, and it nailed him in the center of his big, fat forehead. Then I went down laughing as Tucker tackled me. I got to my feet just as Ryder stepped in, hooking an arm around my neck to hold me back. In retaliation, I planted Ry face-first into the wall.
Tucker, every bit as tough as he looked, snorted, then reached for me. Luckily, Ryder kicked his leg out from beneath him, and Tucker hit the floor like a 7.0 earthquake.
From there it was a pileup. My glasses went flying. So did Tucker’s iPad and Ryder’s phone.