Chapter 2
Kade
“I’m heading over to see Trent now. He’s at the private school we’re working at. After that, I’ve got a meeting with a potential new client. I told you all this this morning.”
The control freak that Brandon is, can’t help but blow up my goddamn phone again, confirming shit I've already told him about.
“Just make sure you’re not fucking about while you’re with Trent. He’s the foreman now, he’s meant to set an example, and you’re his boss.” His stern tone instantly pisses me off.
“Yes, Dad.”
“I’m serious, Kade. New client meetings are important. If you're early, you're on time; if you're on time, you're late.”
I let out a frustrated breath before replying, “You do know Dad can’t hear you, right? You don’t have to crawl up his ass right now.”
“We have a responsibility, Kade. This is Dad’s legacy. Our legacy.”
“You think I don’t know that? I was in the same conversation you were when Dad retired. I get it. So, you can stop trying to be the chief. We’re equals, and I know how to do my fucking job.”
“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence, and I hear his breath on the other end, almost a hiss. I know he’s holding back.
“You done? Or was there anything else?” I snap.
“No. Just let me know how the meeting goes. I’m still looking for someone to fill the admin role, it should lighten the load a bit.”
“Maybe the extra help will lighten you up a bit, brother. I hear that time spent with the opposite sex is a great way of relieving stress. You should try it sometime.”
“Not all of us think with our dicks, Kade.”
“Well maybe you should. You know what sex is, right, Brandon?” I joke, picturing his face turning ten shades of red.
There’s a beat of silence.
“I have a fucking daughter, Kade.” His voice is low and sharp. I bite back the laugh rising in my throat. It’s not funny, really, but the way he says it makes it almost impossible not to.
“Just checking,” I taunt. He makes it too fucking easy. “Look, boss, I just rolled up on-site and I’ve got a meeting to get to after this. My time’s valuable, and you're wasting it.”
“Very funny, asshat. I’ll see you at Mom and Dad’s later.”
I end the call with my brother as I kill the engine.
My eyes flick to the box of cupcakes in the passenger seat, teasing the hell out of me.
My sister Aubrey made them with strict orders not to touch even one.
She owns a bakery and always packs extras when I’m visiting a site we're working on. Says a happy man is a fed man. She’s not fucking wrong.
I grab the box and climb out of the truck just in time to see Trent heading my way, hard hat on his head, spare in his hand for me.
His eyes widen as a grin spreads across his face when he spots the box of cupcakes in my hands.
“You’re sister bake those?” Trent asks, eyes sparkling like he’s just found a secret treasure.
I shoot him a grin. “You already know the answer to that.”
He shrugs. “I mean, you never know. Maybe you’ve got a secret side hustle as a baker. This could be your soft launch.”
I shake my head, laughing. “I think I’ll leave the baking to Strawberry.”
He grins. “Yeah, probably for the best. That woman’s got a real talent for whipping up the perfect flavors.”
I follow Trent as he heads toward the small container we have on-site that doubles as a makeshift break room. Inside, I set the cupcake boxes down on the table and drop into a chair with a sigh.
Through the window, I spot the team scattered across the site, some up scaffolding, others working on the diggers. The place is buzzing, and I can see just how far we’ve come.
I let myself smile.
Trent slides a mug of coffee across the table towards me before sitting down himself.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Just checking in. Progress looks good, man.”
It’s the biggest project the company’s taken on since Brandon and I took over. The school’s old, outdated, and long overdue for some care and attention.
A rich family bought it recently and came to us with plans to knock down half of it and rebuild. They wanted new dorms, state-of-the-art sports facilities, the works. It’s ambitious as hell, but it feels like more than just another job.
It means something. To me. To Brandon. To Trent too, honestly.
“It’s good. The boys have been working their asses off. I’m proud of ‘em, that’s for sure,” he says, shoving half a cupcake in his mouth.
“Fuck, these are good.” He groans, eyes rolling back like he’s seeing God.
I level him with a flat look. “Don’t make that face again.”
He grins, a shit-eating grin that says he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Don’t worry, it's not my sex face. I’ll save that for your sister.”
“You say ‘sex’ and my ’sister’ in the same sentence again, asshole, and you’ll be living off a diet of puréed food.”
“So fucking sensitive,” he laughs, wiping crumbs off his chin.
“Get up and make yourself useful. I’ve got a meeting to get to, and you still owe me the grand tour.” I smack the top of his hard hat as I head out of the break room.
Outside, Trent hands me the extra hard hat he’s been holding and leads me around the site, stepping carefully over scraps of wood and stray nails.
“We gutted the old wing first—ripped out walls, rewired everything, upgraded plumbing,” Trent says, nodding toward the scaffolding.
I glance up at the exposed pipes and tangled cables. “Bigger job than we thought, huh?”
He laughs, kicking a loose board lightly. “Something like that. The foundations were worse than expected. Set us back a couple of weeks.”
I look around, impressed. “It looks damn good from where I’m standing, man.”
We reach a corner where fresh concrete is still drying, and Trent stops. “Once all that’s wrapped up, we’ll move on to expanding the gym. New courts, locker rooms. It’s gonna look fucking beautiful when we’re done.”
I smile, proud of what my best friend and the boys have pulled off. From the moment Brandon and I took over, I knew Trent would make the perfect foreman. This place proves it. “Sounds like you’ve got it all under control.”
I snap a few pictures and pause to catch up with a couple of the guys.
Dad always hammered home the same lesson: take care of your crew, and they’ll take care of you.
Keep them happy, they’ll bust their asses.
Sure, the only blood family working for him was me and Brandon, but he treated every one of these guys like they were his own.
Once I’ve seen everything, I say my goodbyes and head back to my truck. I watch as everyone descends on the break room, filing out moments later with cupcakes in hand, stuffing their faces like vultures in high-vis.
A quick glance at the clock tells me I’ve got half an hour to get to a property that’s only fifteen minutes away. Plenty of time.
I smirk to myself as I throw the truck into drive and pull off-site.
Fuck you, Brandon.
It’s after six by the time I pull into my parents’ place for family dinner. The meeting I had ran over, turns out the client had way more work than they let on. But at Jenkins Construction Ltd., we love a challenge.
It does throw off the timeline and budget, though, so tomorrow’s going to be spent pricing up new quotes and reshuffling the diary to squeeze the project in. I’m hoping we’ll find someone soon to fill our admin position because I fucking hate that side of the business.
Right now, I’m just glad I had time to swing by home, grab a shower, and make it here without holding everyone up too much.
I knock twice, then push open my parents’ front door. The second I step inside; I’m hit with the familiar smell of Dad grilling. It’s mouthwatering enough to make me forget how hungry I am, until I’m blindsided by a small human missile.
“Uncle Kaaade!” my four-year-old niece, Avery, screams as she barrels down the hallway and launches herself at me.
I catch her midair, laughing as I spin us around on the spot. The hallway fills with her squeals and giggles, sweet and wild, echoing off the walls as I slow us to a stop.
“Hey, Bug,” I whisper, pulling her in for a cuddle just as Brandon appears in the hallway.
“Avery, what have I told you about running in Mimi and Pop’s house?”
She lifts her hands and covers her eyes, like that somehow makes her invisible. My shoulders shake with the laughter I’m trying to hold back.
“We can still see you, Bug. And your Dad asked you a question.” I slowly set her down on her feet and gently peel her hands away from her face.
Avery glances between me and Brandon, then shrugs her tiny shoulders like the world’s most innocent criminal.
“You told me not to run,” Avery mumbles, cuddling into my side as Brandon crouches down to our level.
“That’s right.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she whispers, hanging her head low like she’s on trial for war crimes.
Honestly? This kid knows exactly what she’s doing.
Brandon and I exchange a look, no words, just that silent, brotherly understanding. When it comes to this family—and this little girl right here—we’re all wrapped around her tiny finger. And she damn well knows it.
“It’s okay, kiddo. Come on, let’s go make sure Pops hasn’t burnt the steaks.”
Brandon stands to his full height, we’re pretty close in height, though I’ve got him beat by a little, and he holds out his hand to Avery.
As they walk ahead of me down the hallway, Avery keeps turning to make sure I’m following, her big eyes locked on me instead of where she’s going.
“Uncle Kade,” she says, sweet as anything, “what’s a pain in the ass?”
We hit the kitchen right as the words leave her mouth, and I nearly choke on air.
“What did she just say?” Mom asks as she walks over and presses a kiss to my cheek. “Hi, honey.”
“She asked what a pain in the ass is,” I say, deadpan.
Mom swats my arm. “Why would she ask that?”
Before I can answer, Avery tugs on her hand, pulling her attention downward.
“Daddy said Uncle Kade is a pain in the ass,” she announces sweetly.
I lift my eyes and find Brandon already watching me, wearing that sheepish, busted look that makes my lips twitch despite myself.
“Did he now?” I smirk, watching my brother squirm under the weight of his daughter’s very honest confession.
Mom crouches down to Avery’s level and gently takes her hands. “Honey, we don’t say that word, okay? It’s not a kind word.”
Avery gasps, loud and dramatic—the cutest sound in the damn world—before turning to glare at her dad with a full-blown Jenkins Scowl.
“Daddy, that’s not a kind word.” Her tiny hands land on her hips like she means business.
I cross my arms over my chest, smug as hell, watching my niece defend my honor like a tiny warrior princess.
“Uncle Kade will be sad now,” she adds with a huff.
Brandon stands silently, letting his four-year-old daughter scold him like he’s the child.
Aubrey walks into the kitchen, giving me a quick hug before raising a brow. “Why is Uncle Kade sad?”
“Strawberry,” Avery says solemnly, using the nickname her dad and I gave Aubrey when we were kids, “Daddy said a mean word, and now he has to say sorry.”
Aubrey’s eyes flick between me—smirking—and Brandon, who’s steadily turning redder by the second.
Finally, with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Brandon mutters, “I’m sorry.”
“All better now, Uncle Kade,” Avery says with a big smile.
I crouch down, arms outstretched. “Yeah, Bug. All better now.”
She barrels into me, and I hug her tight to my chest, feeling her little arms squeeze around my neck. Over her shoulder, Brandon’s scowling at me like he’s the one who's four.
When I pull back, I hold out my fist. Avery bumps her tiny knuckles against mine, and I flash Brandon a smug little wink, all victory and no shame.