30. Ashley
30
ASHLEY
I meet Jackson in the office after the commotion. Kaleb speeds off and Sawyer and Ginger leave right after. The news makes me wish I’d been the one to catch that asshole, because he would not have walked away.
“Are we just going to let this happen?” I ask, so fucking ready to track Kaleb down and hammer his face with my fist.
“Not a chance. But we’re going to be smart about it.” His usually carefree features have darkened into something dangerous.
“I know places where no one will ever find his body.”
Jackson sucks in a deep breath. “Me, too, but I’ve already called Sheriff Bentley. We’re going to file charges. Blacklist him. Make him live with the consequences.”
I can think of more cruel ways to make him pay.
“This is the better way. I promise you.” Jackson grabs my shoulder with a steady hand. It pulls me out of my spinning thoughts.
I’m counting my way through the anger. The only thing that tamps it down in the slightest is my worry over Ginger’s quitting. That woman doesn’t quit. She can’t quit.
I’m already aware of her tendency to run. It just means we need to chase after her, make sure she knows we care. Right? Fuck, I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know is that I want to tear something limb from limb. Someone. Fucking Kaleb.
My phone dings twice, and I’m greeted by a text from Sawyer.
She won’t let me inside.
I’m waiting in my truck .
That’s not good. Especially since he’s the one who stepped in to help. Panic builds in my chest, and I press against it.
She’s okay. At least physically. We can help her through the rest. I want to help her through it.
Jackson’s phone chimes, and he reads the same text. Our gazes meet, and I feel vindicated in my anxiety.
“I’m going to shut everything down and send everyone home.”
“Good idea.” He nods. “I’ll send everyone here home, too. And we’ll go to her.”
Exactly. I need to get to her.
I don’t dilly dally, marching back to the sites and getting things wound down. The guys ask about what happened. They all stop to hear my answer, so I straighten, transforming into an engineer—a professional.
I look the men in the eye. “We had an incident. Everyone just needs to head home while we figure this out, and we’ll let you know what’s up when we know.”
They take me at my word and disperse to do as I asked, and I’m glad. I don’t want to drag Ginger’s name into this. But the way gossip spreads on a site, I’m sure they already know. Still, no one presses the issue.
It takes an hour to get everyone on their way. Jackson is already waiting with Sawyer at the house. She won’t let him in either.
Every minute it takes to get to Ginger’s house tightens a noose around my heart. How do you fix something like this?
How did we hire someone who would treat her with so little respect? She’s become the bright center of our job. And not just for me, Sawyer, and Jackson.
I slam my palm against the steering wheel. “ Fuck. ”
How did this happen?
I arrive, parking on the other side of Jackson’s truck. I’m agitated.
They step out of Sawyer’s truck and meet me at the tailgate. Their frowns reflect my own emotions.
A quick movement at her window draws my gaze. Ginger’s pale hand at the curtains disappears, and it cranks everything up a notch.
“Has she said anything to either of you?”
Jackson shakes his head.
Sawyer huffs, crossing his arms. “Not since she closed the door in my face.”
“What about before then? On the way here? Has she filled in any of the blanks?” I run a hand through my hair and grab the back, ready to rip it out. I’m so out of my depth. I don’t want to fuck this up.
“She thinks this is her fault.” The growling anger in his voice echoes the feelings roiling in my center.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Jackson narrows his eyes at his brother. “That’s not all she said.”
“I am barely holding onto my control here. Just tell me.”
After a beat, Sawyer clears his throat and repeats word-for-word what she’d said. Asking for it. Nepotism. The office whore .
I stare at her front window, willing her to reveal just the beautiful curve of her face. God, I just want to be in there holding her, telling her how brilliant she is, how sweet and smart and good . She’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I can’t stand the way she’s been made to feel like less than absolute perfection.
The three of us stand there, watching her house, leaning against the back of the truck. The cool May air barely touches me. I’ll probably regret it later, but I can’t sit. I can’t drive away. I can’t bust my way in.
So I just wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Ginger comes by the window every fifteen minutes or so, peering out of the gap of her curtains before stepping away again. Checking to see if we’re still here.
It’s torture. We each pace in turn. Then we hear the loud rumbling of a truck headed down her driveway.
A weight sinks in my stomach.
This is going to go to shit. Bennett’s white truck breaches the hill, and I momentarily drop my head into my hands. An absolute shitstorm. What are we supposed to say to him?
About what happened with that creep. About what happens at the site, in the office. What happens between his only daughter and the three of us.
If we don’t say anything, is he going to know?
“Just let me do the talking,” Jackson says beside me.
Good plan. He’s the one who’s good with his words. He’s been friends with Bennett the longest.
I lift my head and nod at him.
I can’t wallow. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that the man who helped me learn to take my nerdy obsession with mechanics and physics and apply it to building things. We started with building an addition to his house.
Granted, I didn’t do a lot of hands-on stuff. I was a gangly sixteen-year-old who needed to get out of my house. Who spent too much time with his older cousins making mischief. They were sent to jail, and I was deposited on the Thatcher ranch.
Bennett was only twenty-one at the time, leading projects for his father, Bernard. He was a big dude who had a big heart and a penchant for tough love. At least he did show the love part with praise, a pat on the back, and some good chow.
He's the one who gave me my first beer.
And how do I repay him? How do the three of us repay him for what he did for us?
We share his granddaughter’s bed. We can’t even provide her a safe place to work.
It’s my turn to pace as Bennett pulls into the driveway, blocking in the three of us in. He parks and sits there, hands on the wheel, mean-mugging the three of us. The long seconds make anxiety rise in my chest.
My heart is going to give out on me, and the worst part of it, is not being able to comfort Ginger through this.
The door clunks open, and Bennett steps out. The bang of him slamming the door makes me flinch.
Ginger’s hand appears between the window shades again.
Jackson steps forward, waiting for Bennett to approach.
His cheeks are red, eyes bright with anger, but the worry lines on his forehead make it all the worse.
“What the hell happened to my daughter?”