CHAPTER 53
maverick
Iput him to bed. As weirdly domestic as it was, I put Harley to bed, tucking him in and everything. He didn’t fight me, thankfully, but he was barely able to stand on his own two feet. His exhaustion was bone deep, and I knew it had very little to do with today’s events.
Some awful part of me couldn’t help but wonder if this was partly my fault—if my cruelty had added to his life being this… messy, sad thing.
The honest answer was yes. Some part of what I’d done to him was responsible for how his life had turned out. I knew I didn’t deserve all the blame. His family took that trophy. But I’d helped.
The guilt of that turned me stupid. I should’ve just done my job and walked away for the day, but I couldn’t.
Instead, I stayed after hours and off the clock.
I knew Harley enough to know the mess in the house was crippling his anxiety.
A part of me hated that I still knew that kind of thing about him.
While he slept, I made it my business to clear out the kitchen and the living room.
I dragged out box after box, tossing their contents into the dumpster and breaking them down to be bundled.
I was sweating, tired, and hungry, but I kept going until both rooms were unburied.
It wasn’t much, but at least it gave him somewhere to go that wasn’t wall-to-wall boxes.
Late in the evening, while I took a short break, a message from Frank popped up on my phone.
FRANK: Is the job going okay?
I reread the message a second time as I contemplated how to reply. He’d probably kill me if he knew I was still here—professional ethic and all.
Yeah, it’s good.
FRANK: I looked over the inspection and estimate report.
Well, that wasn’t a good sign. He never went out of his way to message me about the reports I put together. Had I forgotten something? Or messed something up?
Does it look okay?
FRANK: It looks fine, kid. I’m more concerned about the size of the job.
Oh, that. I wasn’t surprised. Frank didn’t like big jobs. He liked the ones that took at most a few days and were overall easy to accomplish. I couldn’t blame him for that.
I advised the client that the smarter route would be to tear down the house to its foundation and rebuild.
FRANK: Okay, good. That was my next question. Put that in the report next time.
You’ve got it, boss.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. Yeah, it wasn’t a big thing to leave off the report, but it was still my screw-up. I was trying real damn hard not to screw up Frank’s business, not after he’d gone out of his way to help me as much as he had.
Do you want me to continue on the job, or do you want to give it to someone else?
While he probably wasn’t thinking twice about the small mistake, I was, and I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want me doing the job because of it.
FRANK: As long as you’re good, I’m good.
What a loaded statement. I wasn’t good, but Frank didn’t need to hear about the personal bullshit I was wrestling with.
Yeah, I’m good.
FRANK: But no crazy overtime to try to get it done faster. Pace yourself. Remember, you need time off too.
The text actually made me laugh out loud. Jesus fuck. It was like he knew.
Okay.
FRANK: Good. Just check in with me in the mornings before you head over and keep me updated on the progress.
You know I do all that shit already.
FRANK: Yeah, but if you check in every morning, that means you can bring me coffee.
Just tell me you want coffee, Frank lol
FRANK: What one was LOL again?
Night, old man.
Grinning, I shoved my phone back in my pocket. Frank was a fucking riot.
I still had a few more hours I could utilize to clean out boxes and maybe clean up the kitchen for him while I was at it. Did I need to do so much? No, I didn’t. I knew that. But I was great at letting my guilt do all the talking for me, and I wasn’t about to stop now.