Chapter 1
Chapter One
Look Who's Back
It starts like a typical Tuesday. My alarm clock goes off at five-thirty, and I get out of bed to make a half-pot of coffee before jumping in the shower.
I cook breakfast, then spend the rest of my morning reading on the back deck as the sun rises until I have to leave for work. Sounds good so far, right?
That’s where any definition of ‘normal’ ends, and my life is doomed to change forever.
Walking into work, I can immediately tell that something’s happening by the buzz of energy and chatter going around what is usually a quiet shop.
Most of these guys are the walking personification of zombies for the first few hours of any workday, rolling out of bed and driving into work without even passing a comb through their hair.
Today, they’re chatting in little groups, and their excitement is palpable. Whatever it is, it must be big.
I move to my station and start setting up for the day, trying to ignore the swirling cloud of gossip, but I should know it’s inevitable that I’ll get dragged into it.
Nothing worth this much conversation stays mysterious for long.
Sure enough, I’m at my post for less than a minute before Eric, Marcus, and Ben surround me like hyenas circling their prey.
Folding my arms across my chest, I lean against the bench, waiting to be enlightened.
“Ethan,” Marcus greets me with a mischievous grin. “You’ll never guess who’s starting work today.”
My brows furrow at that. All this fuss is over a new hire? That’s unusual. I don’t respond but arch a quizzical brow instead.
“Luke Shaw.”
The way he says it sounds like that name is supposed to mean something to me, but I’m drawing a blank. My face must reflect as much because Marcus groans.
“God, come on, Ethan. You know who I’m talking about. Luke Shaw!”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously, I don’t. Who is Luke Shaw?”
“Dude!” Eric scoffs. “You remember that kid from high school? The really tall one with glasses who got outed his freshman year?”
Frowning, I go back twenty years in my memory when it suddenly clicks.
Not the name, necessarily, but the situation.
I groan internally as I finally understand why everyone’s so interested in this guy coming to work here.
It leaves a pit in my stomach to think that even more than a decade later, he’s still being given grief just for being gay. Fucking small towns, man.
Our paths never crossed, but I’d heard about him like everyone else did when it happened.
A couple of bullies brutally outed the poor kid, determined to ruin his life, and afterward, he was the black sheep of the entire village.
So much gossip had passed around that it was all anyone talked about for months.
It made me uncharacteristically angry whenever the subject came up, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I had already graduated the year before he started high school, so I was too far removed from it.
But I always wondered how I would have reacted.
The self-righteous side of myself always believed that I would have stood up for the kid—maybe we’d have even been friends.
The rational side wonders if I would have stayed out of it to save face.
High school was fucking brutal on the best of days, but there’s no telling how bad Luke must have had it, and for what?
Something he had absolutely no control over.
“Okay, I vaguely know who you’re talking about.” I sigh. “But what’s the big deal? He’s working here now. What of it?”
Marcus rolls his eyes like he regrets telling me anything, but he continues, “No one’s seen or heard from him in years, and now he’s suddenly back almost overnight. Word is that he was living in New York City for a while.”
He says it like he expects me to ask him about it, but I don’t give him the satisfaction.
I stare blankly at him, wondering what he hopes to gain from this conversation.
He’s my best friend, so the fact that I’m not interested in gossiping about the gay guy shouldn’t come as such a shock.
I mean, Marcus and I practically grew up together, and the fact that I’m a fierce ally for LGBTQ+ rights isn’t new.
And yet, he seems to have forgotten who he’s talking to in all the excitement.
Marcus groans. “Dude. Aren’t you even a little curious about him? What he’s been up to? Why he’s back?”
“No, not really,” I say, deadpan. “I don’t see why you should be, either. It’s none of our business.”
“Jesus, Ethan,” Ben exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re no fun.”
I shoot him a stern look. “Tell me something that’s actually funny, and maybe I’ll laugh.”
The guys finally take the hint that I’m not biting at their pathetic attempts to exchange petty gossip.
After another minute of hemming and hawing, they shake their heads and give a few dismissive hand gestures before leaving.
I hope that will be the end of it, but the growing knot in my stomach tells me that’s not likely.
With a heavy sigh, I drop my shoulders and turn back to start my work.
Poor Luke, I think. Hasn’t even been here one day, and shit’s already a mess.
When Luke eventually shows up, it’s noticeable.
Despite telling myself I won’t add to the fuss, I can’t help but glance up when the shop noise dies down to the hum of the machines, and my eyes snap to the point of attention.
I don’t know what Luke Shaw looks like, but it’s clear from the way everyone is staring at him that this has to be the guy.
Every intention I had of ignoring him flies out of the window the moment I actually see him. Even in my wildest imagination, I wasn’t expecting the man to look like that. Nothing could have prepared me for the experience.
The first thing anyone would notice is his height because, dear-fucking-lord, he’s tall.
I’m by no means short at 6’2”, but he’s even got me beat by a few solid inches, towering over everyone in the shop like a California redwood.
He’s not gangly or overly skinny for all his height, and his movements are graceful and poised.
Every step he takes looks purposeful yet fluid, almost like he’s dancing.
Vertical endowments aside, he’s also the goddamn model of a Greek statue.
I mean, Jesus Christ—did he win the genetic lottery, or what?
I didn’t know men could be so… beautiful.
An odd thought, but that’s the only word apt to describe him.
He’s only wearing a plain black tee, but it clearly defines his tight chest under a Carhartt jacket, adding to my theory that he was carved from stone.
With a full head of golden, sandy-colored hair and a sharp jawline, I’m wondering why he’s working at a machine shop instead of walking the runway of fashion week.
It's clear Luke is aware of the attention. His face is a little flushed, but he’s keeping his head high as the foreman leads him through the shop to the empty station he’ll be taking over. The station that just so happens to be next to mine.
Oh, fuck. That means I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I? God damn it. I had hoped to be as far away from this drama as possible, but now it looks like I’m getting a front-row seat.
I don’t realize I’m frozen like a statue with my jaw practically hitting the floor until Luke turns his head as he walks by and double-takes, meeting my eye directly with the most piercing gaze I’ve ever seen.
His eyes shine like pale sapphires, and the intensity of his stare throws me off guard.
Suddenly, it feels like I’ve been zapped by electricity, and my heart skips a beat.
Is that healthy? That doesn’t seem healthy. Am I dying?
Then I realize I’m still staring at him when he gives me an odd look, his lips quirking up into a half-smile, and I instantly snap my head back to my bench.
Although I try really hard not to glance back at him, I fail miserably, and he catches me doing it.
He chuckles, a peculiar gleam in his eye, and I feel my grin before I realize it’s happening. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
The foreman, Mike, seems to catch on that we’ve had a friendly interaction because he suddenly drags Luke over to my station with relief, while Luke’s eyes widen in shock.
“Luke, I want you to meet Ethan Carlson,” Mike says, clapping Luke on the back like they’re good friends, but the height difference makes it look clumsy.
Mike barely passes for 5’7”. “Ethan, this is Luke Shaw, a new operator. I’ll pass him off to you if he has any questions, since you’ll be working together. Okay? Great.”
With that, Mike appears to think his job of showing the newbie around is done.
I gape at him dumbly, stuttering out a weak protest, but before I can actually respond, he turns and walks away quickly, rubbing his hands on his jeans like he’d gotten them dirty.
I try not to read too much into that, though it’s hard not to.
Luke stands there, looking slightly flustered about how that went down.
Despite our pleasant exchange, it’s a little awkward between us.
I wasn’t prepared to be volunteered against my will to mentor the new guy, and I have no idea where to start.
I’m sure Luke feels out of place, too. Who could blame him?
He was thrown to the wolves without a second thought, and I’m probably the worst candidate to make him feel at ease.
I’m shit at making conversation with strangers, more comfortable remaining silent whenever I can help it.