Chapter Thirty-Six

Xavier

When the door shut behind Brent, the phone rang before I could ask her what he wanted. Anger pulsed under my skin. What in the hell was he doing here? He has no business following her from job to job.

Dad sits at his desk, watching the door like he expects it to open again. Then he turns back to the ledger and flips a page, as if this is just another interruption in the day. It’s not.

The second the phone drops from her hand, Dad says he’s going to tell Brent to look elsewhere for construction, and he won’t let anyone bother his staff. I couldn’t agree more. Especially Ruby. The rest of the guys can handle their own issues.

She smiles, then freezes when she sees me watching her. The smile falters. “He claimed he wanted someone to work on roof damage, but I can’t help feeling like he came here to see me.”

“If he did, it’s the last time.” I rotate my shoulders. “If he’s the guy who was in your house yesterday, I’ll break my foot off in his ass if he comes here again.”

“Son….” Dad looks up from his paperwork. “If Jake knew it was him, he’d be behind bars.”

“I know.” The tension in my shoulders doesn’t ease as my hands ball into fists at my sides.

Ruby slides her chair back and stands. “Don’t do anything rash. We don’t know who it is.”

The phone rings again. Ruby’s gaze stays stuck to mine like she’s waiting for me to agree. I don’t.

If I find out it’s him…. The ringing doesn’t stop. “Ruby, get the phone.” I lift one corner of my mouth. “I promise that I won’t do anything stupid.” ‘In the next few minutes.’ I keep that last part to myself.

“Okay.” She drops back into her seat and picks up the phone.

“She shouldn’t have to deal with that.” I’m already moving toward the back hall.

Dad doesn’t look up. “She didn’t.”

That’s not the point. My boots hit the concrete a little harder than necessary as I push back into the tool room. The air smells like sawdust and metal, familiar enough to settle things usually. It doesn’t.

“Guy shows up at the gym, now he’s here,” I mutter, scanning the shelves. “That’s not normal. I should’ve been out there.”

From the front, Ruby’s voice carries enough to reach me. “Do you think it’s him?”

I don’t answer right away. My hand drags along the shelf, shifting a box of fasteners out of the way. Drill bits. Anchors. Spare blades.

“Maybe it was a coincidence, and I’m making more out of it than it is.”

I turn to face her, noticing Dad’s left the room. “I don’t know. It would be a ballsy move to show up here the day after breaking into your house. And he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who has that kind of nerve.”

She glances over her shoulder and then back at me. “You’re right.” Her spine straightens as if she’s decided something I’m not going to like. “It’s probably not him.” She straightens even taller and marches back to her desk. “That’s it. I’m done letting whoever it is intimidate me.”

Great. Fearless and reckless Ruby is worse than a scared Ruby. Not that I want her scared. Jesus. I rake my hand through my hair as my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Travis: Heading to Oak. You coming?

“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath, thumbing out a quick ‘On my way’ before shoving the phone back in my pocket.

My hand grazes over the next shelf. It reaches, then stops. There should be a wrench set sitting there, but all I find is empty space. I shift closer, scanning again. Move a box. Check behind it. Nothing.

A slow exhale leaves my chest. Not again. Footsteps behind me.

Dad leans in the doorway, arms loose at his sides. “What’s missing?”

“A wrench.”

He studies the space, then looks back at me. “It’s not like you to misplace things. Tape measure’s one thing. Now tools in the shop?”

I rotate my head, popping my neck. “One of the guys probably grabbed it.”

“Without checking it out?”

I don’t answer.

From the front, Ruby steps into the doorway, arms folded tight across her chest, hands sliding up and down her upper arms like she’s trying to warm up from the inside out. All the bravado from a few moments ago is gone.

“Do you think something’s going on here?”

I’ve changed my mind; I’d prefer fearless and reckless over scared any day. “No. Someone probably borrowed it.”

Even as I say it, I’m already moving. I cross to the opposite wall, reach for the box cutter I keep near the workbench, and close my fingers around it. Right where it should be. I hold it there a second longer than necessary, then set it back down.

But the tension doesn’t ease. If anything, it sits higher now, sharper, like something just out of view.

“She was supposed to be fine here.” The words are said to the room rather than to either of them.

Dad shifts his weight, expression unreadable.

Ruby’s arms tighten across her chest. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

But my gaze drifts past her anyway, toward the front door, the windows, the space between the desks. Running through it. Entry points. Sightlines. Timing. Nothing out of place. Nothing I can point to. Which is worse. Or maybe it’s nothing. At this point, we might all be jumping at shadows.

“Lock the back door when you’re done,” I say, already striding for the front.

“It’s always locked,” Dad calls after me.

I don’t answer. As I shove the front door open, cold air cuts through the heat of the shop, sharp and clean. Tools don’t disappear. And people don’t show up by accident.

I pull the door shut behind me with a snap.

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