9. Chapter Eight
It takes a lot for me to get angry. I consider myself a pretty calm, collected, fun guy. I think I’m a happy person. Probably too happy. I’ve been told I have ‘golden retriever’ energy once or twice—whatever that means.
Nothing or no one ruins every ounce of good I have inside me like my parents—my father—specifically.
He makes me forget about being kind or understanding. A vile hatred always takes over my mind when he enters my life. It’s been five years since I’ve heard from him and you would think after we both got a few punches in, he would have taken the hint to never see me again.
The man is relentless. He never gives up when it comes to what he wants. He has been hounding me to join the family business, and I don’t want to. I never want to risk putting myself in that line of work. Not if it means there is a chance I turn into a soulless, mean, conceited, selfish, bad, and irritating person.
If I see him in another five years, it would be too soon.
This time felt different. He seemed desperate. I’m too out of the loop with the company to know what’s going on and I’m going to stay that way. I don’t know what else to do when it comes to my father. I could try to file a restraining order. Maybe then he will take me seriously about wanting nothing to do with him.
If he died, I wouldn’t care.
That statement is so opposite of who I am, but my dad brings out the worst of me. He brings out that part inside me that is too much like him. It’s part of the reason why I go the extra mile for people. I do not want anyone to think I’m anything like that lying, cheating, self-centered asshole.
And like always, I find myself in a pickle after seeing my dad. I have no phone because I broke it.
I squat down, picking up the frame of what used to be my way to connect to the world. “Son of a bitch, Fitz. Why do you let him get to you like that?” I hang my head in shame, tossing the broken piece onto the floor again. “You’re better than this.” I stand, my knees popping to remind me I’m not as young as I used to be.
“Rhett is never going to let me manage this shop by myself if my days are going to be like today.” I start walking to the office phone to call Rhett and I’m trying to think about what to say to him.
I’ll need to close the shop for the rest of the day. I have to get my house ready for my sister and I need a new cell phone.
“A wild fucking day.” I pick up my hat from the floor, dusting it off by slapping it on my thigh when a loud crash from the back of the shop has me spinning around.
I don’t say anything. I freeze not wanting to make a sound. It could be nothing but with how my luck is going today, I doubt it. I’ve been trying to shake the sense of someone watching or following me. Since my dad showed up out of nowhere, I’m thinking it’s him and some of his little buddies spying on me.
I take one step, wrapping my fingers around a crowbar Rhett keeps leaning against one of the pillars that is between two hydraulic lifts.
Another jarring metal sound echoes, this time coming from the other corner. I lift the crowbar onto my shoulder. Sweat beads at my temples from the adrenaline pumping through my veins. My heart is thunderous, booming inside my chest like a thunderstorm.
“I have a weapon!” I announce, wanting to give this person a warning. “And you know what—” I scoff, the insanity of my day making me chuckle “—I have not had a good day. It’s only eleven in the morning. Eleven! The day has hardly even started and I’m over it. I’m sick of it. I’m ready to go to bed, but no. No, I can’t because I have shit going on I can’t explain. So what I’m trying to say is, I’m not really in the mood, okay? I haven’t even had my fucking cup of coffee.” I slam the crowbar on the ground to scare whoever is in the shop with me. “And not that you need to know, but I need a cup of coffee for my day to go smoothly. I haven’t been this grouchy in a very long time. I woke up with a weird mark on my cock, had amazing sexy dreams, and I swear I’m hearing voices. I don’t feel like myself. Please, do me a favor and just go. I don’t have the energy to fight someone right now.”
I stop talking, realizing I’m blabbering too much of my personal life away. I sound like a maniac. Look at me. I’m alone, holding a crowbar in the middle of the garage, and no one is replying to me.
Holding the crowbar out in front of me, I inch behind a car and then slam the metal down on the ground when I turn right. I close my eyes and keep swinging as I take small steps forward.
Peeking one eye open, my shoulders sag in relief when there’s no one there. The only thing I’ve managed to do is put dents on the floor. My cheeks puff before I blow out a breath. I’ve never felt more ridiculous than I do at this moment.
I peek around the second car and that’s when I notice oil droplets on the ground. I follow the trail around the third car, then the fourth, and it leads to the line of oil on the shelves.
There are small droplets. Nothing too hard to clean up, but it stops at the shelves. One bottle is turned on its side, dripping onto the ledge, then leaks over onto the floor. Picking it up, I tighten the lid and stand it up, then proceed to check all of the tops of the oil containers.
Maybe this mess is from yesterday. I did do a few oil changes. I could have sworn I cleaned up.
I laugh at myself and then wipe my forehead on my sleeve. “Fucking Hell, Fitz. Get your shit together.” Seeing my dad has me on edge. I need to figure out what to do because my dad will go out of his way to make sure I have nothing.
He will make my life miserable. He will use all of his money and influence to take everything away from me, leaving me with nothing, so I have no choice but to crawl back to him.
I’d rather die than work for him or have my nephew work for him. He has made it his life’s mission to make my life and Heather’s life a living Hell. He wasn’t a good dad when we were teens, and he has only gotten worse since we are adults now.
Leaning the crowbar against the wall, I grab a few cotton cloths, paper towels, a degreaser, and baking soda. After soaking up the excess oil with the paper towels, I pour degreaser over the stains, then add the baking soda. It creates a paste after I mix it all together. It helps lift the stains off the floor.
I shouldn’t care about oil stains given the fact it’s a damn car shop, but this business is new. I want to show Rhett he can count on me to keep the shop in working order and after how this morning has gone, I’m wondering if I’m capable at all.
When the spot is cleaned up, I place the materials I used on the shelf, then rush to the front office to use the phone.
I only know two phone numbers off the top of my head. My sister’s and Rhett’s. I place the phone against my ear and sigh in exasperation while staring up at the ceiling. It rings and rings, leaving me more anxious with every unanswered second that passes.
The door to one of the bays opens, allowing the light in. It’s Rhett and Creed.
“Oh, fucking great.” I’m not in the mood for Creed. He is an acquired taste that I do not think I will ever acquire.
I hang up the phone, noticing the handle has oil-stained fingerprints on it. I add a pep to my step as I hurry out of the office to greet them.
“What is that smell?” Rhett rears back as if he has been slapped. His face pinches together and he waves his hand in front of his face.
“It fucking reeks,” Creed snarls, yet continues to sniff the air. He follows the scent until he is standing in front of me. “It’s you. You reek.”
I lift my arm and take a sniff. “I smell like fucking pine needles and sandalwood. What are you talking about? I do not stink.”
Creed takes that as an invitation to step closer, completely invading my space. He sniffs again then gags. He has the fucking audacity to audibly gag.
“Yes, you do. I don’t know what the hell you rolled in, but you need to shower.”
I’m flabbergasted. “Rhett, will you please get your feral fucking cat away from me before I decide to do something about it?”
“What could you do to me?” His eyes glow with fury. Smoke drifts from his nostrils, showing that I have awakened the dragon—literally. “Before you could try, I would rip your skin from your fucking bones.”
“Enough!” Rhett shouts, rubbing his temples. “I can’t work in here. It does smell, Fitz. I’m sorry. It is causing my head to throb. It’s overwhelming my senses.” He stumbles backward, grabbing his chest. “My beasts are thrashing inside me. They hate it in here.”
“Mine don’t like it either but it could be you, Fitz.” Creed curls his lip as he looks me up and down. “You say the word Rhett, I’ll roast him. It won’t take but a second since my fire is so hot.”
I’m very close to snapping. I won’t have a chance at all against Creed, but I’ll die trying to get one punch in at this point.
“Will you please stop? Everyone lower your voice and open the windows. Air this place out,” Rhett orders with a loud, deep, monstrous boom.
Creed and I exchange judgmental looks, our shoulders bumping against each other as we walk to the doors that are closed. He gets to the one on the far right and I’m far left. I unlocked the bolt and lift the metal door. Creed does the same.
“I have no idea what you two are smelling but I don’t smell it. I’m sorry. Maybe something died?”
“Did it die inside you? Because you are what stinks, Fitz,” Creed once again adds his opinion when I didn’t fucking ask for it.
“Creed.” Rhett snarls at the delusional beast.
I cross my arms, a smug grin tugging my lips.
“Smell him, Rhett.” Creed fists the front of my shirt, tugging me forward so hard, I slam against Rhett’s chest.
The breath is knocked from my lungs. Rhett grips my shoulders, blinking at me in horror, his mouth curling into a frown that suggests he smells something bad.
And it’s me.
He sniffs me again. He buries his nose in my chest, and he can only get away with that because he is my best friend. He pulls away, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Oh, come on!” I shout, plucking the front of my shirt to my nose. I inhale, smelling nothing but laundry detergent. “I have no clue what you two are smelling. Okay. You know what?” I take a deep breath, holding up my hands for us to calm down. “I can’t deal with this right now. I was about to call you, Rhett. I have to close the shop for the day. I broke my phone.”
“Again? Fitz—”
“—My dad came to see me.” I cut him off before he can give me a lecture.
His eyes turn from reptilian to crimson, his fangs lengthening with only one purpose.
Rhett wants to drain my father’s blood. I can’t say I blame him. Rhett has always hated my parents due to how they treated me and Heather.
“What the fuck was he doing here?”
“He did what he always does. He is giving me an ultimatum. Either I work for him or Elijah does. My sister is at risk because if Elijah says no, my dad will go after her in every way. He will strip them of everything, so they have no other choice but to fall into his hands. I called her to tell her they need to move here. I need to go get my house ready. I can’t have her so far away with him on the prowl again, Rhett. You know Heather and my nephew are my only family.”
He steps forward, holding his breath as he grabs my shoulder. “You aren’t alone. Whatever you two need but I’ll need you to go home and shower. Creed and I can finish up here. Okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.” I rub my neck, needing to ease some of the tension.
I want to tell Rhett one more thing. I want to say I think someone is following me but then, I don’t want to be disrespectful. I know Rhett and Creed didn’t necessarily go through the regular dating channels with their mates.
I don’t want to offend them because that could mean my death.
Keeping my mouth shut is my best option.
“He isn’t welcome here,” Rhett growls. “We will get security installed in your house when I bring the rest of your belongings over later. You, your sister, and your nephew will be okay.”
“If it means I can kill someone, I’m in,” Creed says.
I snort, not surprised in the least. “Thanks, Creed.”
He grunts in response. “I’m going to change these tires since you have been doing nothing all day.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from lashing out.
“Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me, Fitz. We’re brothers. I’ve got your back even if you do smell bad. Go home. Call me later.”
I dig my keys from my pocket, nodding in defeat. “Yeah, thanks, Rhett. I’ll talk to you later.” I drag my feet toward the back door.
“I’m serious, Fitz. Everything will be okay.”
I want to believe Rhett, I do, but I don’t. Nothing ever is when it comes to my dad. Pushing the door open with my shoulder, the fresh air hits my face.
“You won’t need security. You have me. No one will touch you, Doe Eyes. I’ll make sure of it.”
I’m not going to fight the voice in my head. Whatever I’ve made up in my head, the voice is there for a reason. I like the extra layer of protection. Maybe it’s my subconscious gearing up for war. I’m not sure.
I no longer care.
I’ll fight the enemy even if it kills me.