Chapter 2
Auggie
Iswallow my squeal as I quickly type out a reply to the email I’ve just read. Leon Jeffries wants to interview me—me!—for his apprenticeship position. I knew finding him at the Summer Nights Festival and introducing myself last month was a good move.
Even if Dad said it made me look desperate.
I, well, I am desperate.
He’s literally my last hope, and I’m not about to let that go to waste.
That said, I’d had the impression our first meeting didn’t go well. When I’d finally found him, I’d word vomited up my entire life story, and he’d blinked at me like I’d suddenly grown another head.
Not an overwhelmingly positive result.
I’d hightailed it out of there, thinking I’d epically screwed up, but look at that. My little show of initiative worked.
The interview is on Wednesday morning in Sunbury, so I quickly book a room at the motel there for tomorrow night, figuring it will be easier than driving up from Portland on the day.
I have no idea what to wear or say or how I’ll even convince him, but I will. When we met, there was … a connection.
The way his intense eyes roved over me keeps playing through my mind.
I’m not going to be inappropriate about it or anything, but Leon Jeffries is sexy as hell. And a little scary.
Actually, a lot scary.
I’ve never met someone before who I instantly wanted to throw me over his shoulder, carry me off to a secluded cabin in the woods, and have his filthy way with me, while also being low-key terrified, but he kinda brought out all of those things in me.
Perfect, really.
My hopefully future boss is someone I want to eat me alive. If I’m working with him, timber isn’t the only kind of wood I’ll be dealing with.
But, umm, definitely not being inappropriate.
I glance back up at the house as I grab the basketball I’d been messing around with.
Dad’s just gotten home, and I want to tell him about the interview and maybe rub his nose in the fact that someone might actually want me, but I hold off.
Leon and Dad aren’t exactly rivals, but … well, Dad doesn’t take him seriously.
I’ve known I wanted to be a builder like Dad since I was a kid and used to join him on worksites.
He’s had the business since before I was born, and we used to get a fair few jobs up in Sunbury, until a few years ago.
That’s when Leon started his business and took Sunbury—and Port Welling—for himself.
Dad keeps saying Leon’s a kid who’s in way over his head.
And that I’m an accident waiting to happen.
So instead of telling Dad I’m still applying for literally anything I can get anywhere, I slowly dribble the ball back to the hoop, shoot … and miss. By an embarrassing distance.
I’ve never been tall enough for basketball. I’ve never been coordinated enough for a worksite. I’ve never been levelheaded or smart enough to run Dad’s books.
The business I always imagined I’d take over will never be mine.
Books and movies lie. All those stifling parents wanting their kids to follow in their footsteps, whereas my Dad would prefer I did anything else.
So I’m going to start from the ground up. Again.
And I’ll do that by becoming the best apprentice Leon Jeffries has ever had, rather than the clusterfuck I usually am.
It will be strictly work. There will be no funny business, and I will do everything I can to keep this teeny-tiny little crush on him a total secret that he will never know about. Probably.
Because I will be a professional, dammit.
I’m too excited to sit still, so I spend the night packing and repacking my bag. I have no idea what I’ll actually wear to the interview, so I make sure I have more than enough options which I’m sure I’ll change my mind over a million times on Wednesday morning.
Total scatterbrain? Moi?
Laughable!
I’m jittery all day Tuesday, and when Dad stops by to grab some plans from his office, it must be obvious enough that he pauses and looks me over.
“You okay, kid?”
“Not a kid,” I remind him. I’ve been out of school for three years now.
“You’ll always be my kid. And until you get yourself a job and your own place, I’ll treat you that way.”
Well, this conversation sounds familiar. “I’m fine, Dad.”
He casts his eyes around the room once before returning his stare to me. There’s something right on the tip of his tongue—I can feel how desperate he is to get whatever it is out—but whether it has to do with work or cutting my hair or going to college, I know I won’t want to hear it.
“Okay, well, I better get on the road.”
He starts. “You going somewhere?”
“Yeah, away for the night with some friends.”
“Right.” His tone is heavy with disapproval.
I don’t let it get to me. At least, I try not to let it get to me, and it mostly works.
As soon as Dad heads back to work, taking his comments with him, I shower and leave. It’s still a little early, but the woman who runs the motel in Sunbury was sweet when I stayed there last time, and if it’s not too busy, I might be able to charm her into letting me check in early.
The farther I drive from Portland, the easier it is to relax. We live in one of the outer suburbs, in a quiet street, but I swear there’s nothing like driving through the winding roads and the large forests on the way to Sunbury. I’ve always loved that sleepy little town.
Less than an hour later, I’m pulling up to the little motel I stayed at last time. It’s a quaint thing with flower gardens and a small cafe, and I swear every time I’ve stayed here, everyone is so friendly they make a place that should feel totally impersonal feel like home.
Olive Archer is at the front desk when I walk in, and it’s clear she immediately recognizes me.
“Auggie, you’re back so soon.” Her smile holds all the warmth of the sun. I adore her. I adore this whole place.
“How could I stay away?” I’m bursting with excitement. “Okay, remember how when I was here last month, I asked you to point me in Leon Jeffries’s direction?”
Her lips quirk. “I remember.”
“Well, I met him, and I must have made a good impression because now I’m back for an interview, and I’m so nervous and excited and … and …”
“Deep breath, Auggie.”
I flop down on the armchair opposite her desk as she turns to her computer. “Sorry.” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Do you know much about him?”
She glances at me. “Leon?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course. Everyone knows everyone around here. Why?”
“What’s he like? Is he nice? Will he like me?”
She opens her mouth, then quickly closes it again. I’m not feeling that comforted when she starts to wrap her frizzy brown hair round and round her fingers. “He … likes quiet. He’s a sweetheart though. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Fine? Well, that’s a ringing endorsement. Nevertheless, I will work that bit harder to wow him with my charms.
Umm, that I’m sure I’ll find between now and tomorrow when we properly meet.
Olive lets me into my room early, but I’m so nervous I don’t stay there for long.
Leaving my car behind, I set out exploring the town.
O’Connell Road is the main hub, but there are smaller streets branching off it that have specialty shops selling everything from homemade knickknacks to hiking gear, and I’m in love with it all.
I could see myself living here. I could see someone asking Olive, oh, do you know that August Brashford? and her giving that same response to my question earlier. As though I belong here.
I catch sight of some purple socks with little hammers printed on them and almost squeal as I pluck them from the shelf. These will go perfectly with my purple safety boots.
I’m going to take my find as a super-positive, “you’ve totally got this, Auggie” sign. What else could it be?
By the time I return to the motel, my pockets are weighed down with goodies, I’m stuffed full of sugar, and the nerves have settled to a dull buzz.
Still, that doesn’t help me get any sleep.
When I roll out of bed the next morning, I need to shower a long night of desperate anxiety from my skin.
I try reminding myself it’s only a job, but I want it so bad.
I’ve always loved the smell of sawdust and the feel of wet concrete under my fingernails.
The feel of the sun on my back as I work and seeing a pile of materials form into a structure with purpose.
Being involved from initial planning right through to completion gives me this needed sense of accomplishment I don’t get to experience very often.
I skip breakfast because I don’t need to feel any sicker than I do already and instead head straight to the address listed in the email.
I’m early. Of course. Too early.
And the last thing I want to do is sweat it out in the car.
Leaning forward to peer up at the house, I’m suddenly not sure I’m in the right place. It’s a wide residential street, with thick trees dotting front lawns and an odd mix of shiny cars and dirty trucks parked in the driveways.
I thought I’d be meeting with Leon on-site or at his office, but the house I’m looking at is still.
I drum my hands on the steering wheel as I struggle to work out what to do next. Being early shows I’m eager, right? Or something.
Nope, no second-guessing, Auggie.
I throw open my door, climb out and hit the lock button, then hit it again just in case, before I make my way toward the house.
Stepping carefully along the overgrown path, I refuse to acknowledge the peeling and rotten clapboard around the house. It looks as though the front yard has been cleared recently, with dirt and grass both warring for space.
Leon must be working here, so if this is one of his projects, then it won’t matter at all that I’m early, because we can both get this unpleasant meeting out of the way first.
I’ve even worn my lucky purple boots, jeans, and my nicest flannel shirt in case he wants me to start immediately.
I’m going to nail this.
I have to.
I climb onto the front porch, careful to test the timber structure before I put my weight on it. I’m so nervous, I’m struggling to breathe right, and this weird floaty feeling starts to take over my head.
I shake it off and knock on a door that’s bare and taped up, but my hands are shaking uncontrollably.
Damn it, Auggie, get your shit together.
There’s a creak from inside.
My heart starts to pound painfully fast, and sweat instantly breaks out across my back, my neck, my face.
I’m vaguely aware of footsteps, but I’m too busy trying to steady my breathing. To get my lungs to stop burning. My head gets so hot I’m worried it might burst. I have to breathe.
Breathe …
Breathe …
Oh, shit.