Chapter 9 See It For Yourself
SEE IT FOR YOURSELF
“Did you have to be so hard on the girl?”
I don’t slide my eyes from where they watch the road to Dad, though I can feel his are on me.
I mutter, “Didn’t think I was that hard on her.”
Dad curses. “She was damn near crying, Holt.”
“A man would think the woman who moved between brothers like she did would have thicker skin.” I pull the truck off the road and onto the bumpy trail of the job site. The house will be a massive one, when finished. Already, there is a crew at work.
I open the door and pause when Dad calls my name. “You don’t know what that girl has been through.”
“She’s a woman, Pop,” I tell him dryly. “She made her bed and now she’s sleepin’ in it.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I exit the truck and slam the driver’s side door. I hear Dad’s pained grunt as he exits and know it’s the weight on his knee.
I’d go help him, if I thought his pride would accept it. It wouldn’t, though, so I set to making my way through muddy earth to the foreman on site. We meet half-way, and I catch the man’s wide, familiar smile. “Hey, man. Long time.”
I pull the man in for a one-arm hug. “Micha.”
Micha gives me a pat and stands back, eyes dragging the length of me as Dad sidles up close. He’s trying not to show favor to his good leg. Both me and Micha do our best not to notice.
“Whatcha doing back?”
“Working,” Dad boasts proudly. “Holt will be overseeing things while I’m indisposed.”
“Yeah?” Micha asks, brows raised, head bobbing.
“Yeah.” Taking in the build and the group of men working, I tuck my hands into my pockets. “This your crew?”
“Sure is. It’s a good crew, too.”
“Didn’t realize you were working for the company.”
Micha nods again. “Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you make it big and forget about all your friends back home. You don’t got a finger on the pulse of what’s what anymore.”
My back teeth connect. I’m not about to take that bait. “You and Andy still a thing?”
“Naw.” Micha grins the same grin he had back in high school. “We split right outta high school. But I am married.” Micha holds up his hand to tap a black rubber band he wears on his ring finger. “Sweetest girl, my Mandy.”
Well, life sure changes. “Congratulations, man.”
Micha beams. Then his eyes sway to Dad and back to me. “This mean you’re retiring?”
“No.”
“Not yet.” Dad gives his weight to his good leg as he rubs down his bad.
He’s not even trying to hide it now. Must really be hurting.
“But when Holt retires from the game, he’ll be taking over Wilder Builds and Reno’s.
Then I’ll officially retire.” The back of Dad’s hand connects with my shoulder.
“Might even take your mom on that Italian vacation she’s always talked about. ”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Pop.”
Dad laughs. Then he mutters, “Yeah, well. Sooner or later.”
“Keep it positive, Herman.” Micha chuckles.
“Positivity,” Dad says. “Only way to get through life.”
I’m introduced to the crew of six guys including Micha. They seem like a good bunch. Dad wouldn’t keep a problem worker on payroll, so it makes sense. Then we’re onto the next three crews. We cross paths with Tanner, who has little to say to me, though he keeps it professional with the guys.
He wasn’t happy in this morning’s meeting when Dad explained I’d be taking over his tasks, and essentially running the company in Dad’s absence. He was less happy when I nearly made Faye cry. I can’t even explain the surge of rage I felt emanating off him when I swiped the chocolate from her mouth.
Even now, I’m not sure what possessed me to do that. Was it the pull I’ve always been incapable of refusing when it comes to her. Or was it more in response to the fact he was there and, like an animal, debased as I am to that primal form around her, I essentially pissed on my territory.
Fuck, but she’s not my territory. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.
It can’t end well.
It’s touching two in the afternoon by the time we head back to the office. Dad’s rubbing his knee something fierce in the passenger seat, but I draw no attention to it.
My mind is back on Faye now that I know I’m going to be seeing her again, and soon. I honestly don’t know what came over me earlier. Dad’s right when he said I was hard on her. I could plainly see she was close to tears.
There was a time when I’d have done anything to make her tears stop. Even at my brother’s funeral, seeing her tears had me twisted in knots. I’d wanted to comfort her then.
This morning had been different in a not good way. I’d wanted to rattle her. Wanted to push her. Wanted to see some evidence that she felt something for me. Because I felt way more than I should for her. I wanted it even if that evidence fell in tears to streak her pretty face.
It’s been years. More than a decade has passed. She’s evolved from girl to woman, and it should be impossible, but I swear she’s even more beautiful now. She shines with a light that belies the way life has had its cruel way with her.
She still makes me want to fall to my knees. I want to beg for the heart I surrendered to her all those years ago. The heart she cruelly never gave back.
I love her. And in the same breath, I think I hate her.
I’m a mess. My emotions are everywhere, even though I was so damn careful to assemble them into their tight little box before I left for the office this morning.
“Faye will help you with quotes and invoices. She’s good with paperwork.” Dad side-eyes me as he warns, “But she doesn’t like it much, so you might have to sweeten her up if you want your life these next five months to be easy. No more of that monkey dance you did this morning.”
We’ve crested the town’s border. I grunt, “What monkey dance are you talking about?”
“That chest slammin’ gettin’ in her space dance you did this morning.”
“Fuck, Pop.”
“I’m just saying. She’ll help you if you don’t make her feel like a pariah.”
“Is she not in the wrong, here?” My hands tighten on the steering wheel, because this is not where I wanted to go today.
Or ever, for that matter. Yet I keep going.
“She was mine. I thought she’d always be mine, goddammit, Pop.
Then she calls me up one day, and when I expect her to tell me what time to pick her up from the fucking airport, she tells me it’s over instead.
That she doesn’t want to leave Rubble Ridge.
That the life I thought we dreamed up together wasn’t what she wanted, and she could see it clearly now that I was gone. ”
“Holt.”
I’m on a roll now. “And a month after that, Tate calls me and tells me he’s been seeing Faye.
Seeing my girl. That it was fucking serious, and he was going to ask her to marry him.
” I take a corner a little too fast. Dad’s hand moves from his knee to the holy shit handle, but he doesn’t speak.
Just listens. Anger cracks like a whip in my next words.
“And not a month after that, he calls me up again and tells me she said yes. That he got her pregnant and she was so excited.”
I swing the truck into the parking stall and kill the engine. “I just started the career of my dreams, but I found the balls to go to my coach. To ask for time off. I had a flight booked for the next day because I was going to come home and fight my brother for my girl.”
I’m shaking now, breathing hard. This has been eating me for years.
I hate that it’s Dad sitting here and not Tate. That I never told him how I felt. How I never forgave him.
“You never came, son,” Dad says softly.
I stare at the brick of the back of the building. I can’t meet his eyes. “She was pregnant with my brother’s kid.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then Dad says gently, “She’s no pariah, Holt. Faye is as much a part of this family as you.”
I bare my teeth at the brick. Dad opens his door. “She likes them maple lattes from Cherry’s. But if she’s really having a rough one, the croissants usually do the trick. Seeing as she had a whole box of ‘em this morning, she probably had a go ‘round with Mabel before the sun even rose.”
Well, now I feel like an ass.
But I shouldn’t. Because she was an ass first.
Fucking fuck. Life sucks.
Dad grunts as he lowers to the ground. “And if you really want to butter her up for something, best feed her first. She likes the Italian sandwich from down the road. And if you happen to order pizza, she ain’t happy unless there’s extra olives.”
I scowl. “Faye doesn’t like olives.”
Dad holds the door with his hand. I think he’s mostly using it to hold some weight off his knee.
“That changed after Owen was born.” He dips his chin before he looks at me with them sharp eyes I inherited.
“A lot has changed in the last damn near fourteen years, Holt. But she is still the same sweet Faye we’ve always loved.
” He starts to close the door but pauses.
“You pull your head outta your ass long enough, you’ll see that for yourself. ”