Chapter 2
Hudson
Some people aren’t morning people, but I am. Ready to walk out the door at six with my coffee in hand, I love starting my day before the sun.
Makes me feel like I get more time to live, breathe, hang out with my niece and nephew, and do everything else I love.
Including work.
My job is fun, especially on warm sunny days—which today is supposed to be. I counted my lucky stars when this company hired me and I counted them again when I was switched to this route.
Known for their support and flexibility for veterans, I was given a permanent route with weekends off right away and now that they’ve approved my request to switch from commercial to residential, I can start earlier which means I’m usually done by two.
Not only does this mean I’ll be able to pick my sister’s kids up from daycare when she goes back to work, but it also allows me to continue to volunteer at the fire department.
The fire station’s where I met my three best friends, and since moving back home, and especially since losing Will, I’ve relied on them and that station a lot.
It gives me that surge of adrenaline when I need it.
It also gives me purpose and allows me to feel like I still matter.
Like I make a difference and not just because I’m filling Will’s shoes.
Strolling into the warehouse with a smile on my face, I run into Scott while grabbing my route list.
“Morning!” I tell my coworker cheerfully.
“It’s too early for conversation,” he grumbles, eyes heavy with sleep.
“Nonsense.” I smile and clap him on the back. “It’s the perfect time to say hello.”
“You’re one of those sick fucks who likes to lift weights, too, aren’t you?” He scans my frame. “I’m guessing you probably don’t eat refined sugar or seed oils either.”
I pull the hem of my uniform shirt up to display the abs I’ve worked so hard for.
Patting my stomach, I grin. “And risk losing these babies? Hell no, I don’t eat that shit.”
Scott mirrors the gesture and pats his gut. “See? That’s the beauty of being married. Getting laid is a sure thing so there ain’t no need to torture myself with all that health-nut crap.” He actually pulls out a Snickers bar to prove his point.
I know he’s only joking, but part of him isn’t and it rubs me the wrong way.
I hate when couples get so comfortable with each other they begin to take their partner for granted.
My time in the military taught me that nothing in life is a guarantee so I try to always be a man worthy of those around me.
Not only that, but if I can’t even take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of my family and friends?
I understand not everyone feels the same way I do though, so I just laugh. “You keep living your life and I’ll live mine, yeah?”
Scott grins and lets out a grunt as he heaves himself into the truck next to my bay.
Thankfully, the trucks have already been loaded from the guys on third shift. All we have to do is drive around playing Santa.
I grab my keys from the lockbox and slip behind the wheel of truck number forty-eight.
Settling in, I take a swig of piping hot coffee, plug my phone into the aux outlet—I have one of the older trucks—and crank it up.
Once I’m settled, my eyes scan the addresses on my route.
The street names are all familiar to me even though the route is new.
By lunchtime, I’m over halfway done eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the parking lot of the grocery store when I take notice of the next house on the list.
The house with the crying baby.
The house with the brunette bombshell in a towel.
There was no way for me to know it was naptime, but Shannon clearly needed one herself and it was pretty obvious I messed that up for her. Following the image of the frazzled woman that pops into my brain, is an idea.
It’s a ridiculous idea, but in the same vein of not taking things for granted, I also learned to never put things off. Again, nothing is a guarantee. Certainly not time.
A quick flash of Will’s mangled car enters my mind and I have to forcibly push it aside or I’ll have a breakdown right here in this parking lot.
Hopping out of my delivery truck, I slide my door shut and lock it down.
We aren’t really supposed to leave our trucks unattended, but I’ll only be a minute.
After making my purchase and clocking back in, it’s not long before I’m passing through the gate into the ritzy neighborhood where I made my grievous error last week.
I survey the house numbers as I pass, getting a better feel for where they start and stop. The faster I learn the details of the route, the more efficient I can be.
Pulling into the circular driveway of the massive brick house, I pause, taking it all in.
There’s no denying it’s a beautiful house. Too big for my taste, but beautiful nonetheless. A four-car garage is visible from this portion of the driveway and I’m sure whatever is behind those closed doors matches the grandeur of the rest of the property.
I grab the small package and the gift I bought, tuck my signing pad into the holster on my shorts, and head for the double front doors, sweat already soaking the rim of my backwards hat thanks to the late August heat in the south.
Remembering not to ring the bell this time, I tap lightly in the center of the glass. A minute goes by with no answer. I would just leave the package like I do for most, but her packages always require a signature.
I tap a little louder this time and sigh in relief when I see her come into view at the top of the stairs. She makes her way down and opens the door, looking more exhausted than the last time I saw her.
But even covered in baby slime, with bags under her eyes large enough to fit her groceries, it’s easy to tell she’s beautiful.
Sure, it’d take a lot of sleep and some scrubbing to make her shiny again, but it’s there in the smoothness of her skin, the pout in her pink lips, and the shape of her tired eyes.
I hold the flowers out first, biting my bottom lip to hide my smile at her confusion as her left hand slowly reaches forward to take them. She moves so slowly I notice one of those silicone wedding bands on her ring finger.
Disappointment floods my veins.
Damn. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding out some small semblance of hope that she was single.
“These are an apology for waking your baby last week. I know how hard it can be to get little ones down and how important that alone time is.” Will and Monica were zombies after Camden was born. Stubborn little fella has a personal vendetta against naptime.
Shannon stares at the flowers in a daze, suddenly making my skin prickle with discomfort. This was a stupid idea.
“Um, if they’re too much, I just—”
Suddenly, she covers her face with her free hand and starts crying.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—hey,” I try again. “Shh, just breathe.”
“They’re s-so th-thoughtful,” she stutters through her sniffles a minute later, clearly trying to pull herself together as she dabs at her eyes.
Forget exhausted, this woman is on the brink of collapse.
“They’re just your grocery store variety. Just something small to brighten your day,” I try to explain light heartedly, but I’m not sure she even hears me. “Oh, and this.” I push the package toward her. “But I didn’t have anything to do with that one. Obviously.”
Why the hell am I tripping over myself?
I place the box I’m supposed to be delivering in her hand. The one with the giant Cartier logo in the top left corner. Hence, the reason the signature is required.
She sniffles once more and wipes her eyes with the heels of her hands.
I’m shocked when I notice there are no streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She either has the most waterproof mascara in the world or the darkest natural eyelashes I’ve ever seen.
Why am I noticing her eyelashes?
Maybe Jake and the guys are right. I need to get laid, badly.
I make a mental note to give Jakey a call. He’s the best wingman a guy could ask for. Happily tied down and never tempted no matter what graces his presence, he funnels all the attention to me. He’s also as gay as the day is long which helps.
Unlike going out with Phoenix who will actually swoop in and cockblock me so he can get some action…even though Phoenix gets all the action already.
“Um, just sign here.” I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of this weird trance, and pull the device out of the holster for her just like last time.
In a move I didn’t see coming, she carelessly tosses the box across the foyer onto the couch in the living room as if it’s worthless.
It lands quietly on the cushion before bouncing onto the floor.
When I pull my attention from the discarded box to look at her, she’s signing the pad while cradling the bouquet of flowers in her arm like they are as precious as her child.
Interesting.
Once she’s done signing, she takes a deep breath.
“Thank you. The flowers are lovely.” She hands the signing device back to me and runs her hand down her hair, self-conscious of her appearance.
But even in her current state, she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Maybe by next week I’ll have slept and will finally resemble a normal human being.
” She flashes me a smile, but it’s sad and empty and doesn’t reach her eyes.
I shouldn’t want to know why. But I do.
I shouldn’t want to fix it. But I want that too. The ring on her finger says she’s legally married, but it’s pretty clear this woman is handling the harsh demands of new parenthood on her own.
I’ve already been here too long, so I nod goodbye, and head for my truck with an uneasy feeling in my gut.