Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Miles
I’m too fucking old for this shit.
Never in my life would I have imagined that, at thirty-two, I’d be too old to put in a solid weekend of hard drinking and still be able to function at work on Monday morning. Or Wednesday afternoon. I honestly don’t even know what day it is anymore.
“Your new phone?” Erin asks stalely.
A FedEx box lands on my desk in front of me. The thud and slide of the small box echoes through my head, a dull ache settling behind my left eye.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
Any hope that Erin might take pity on me and walk on by goes to shit when she leans her hip against my desk and folds her arms over her chest. She waits patiently—or maybe not so patiently—staring me down.
“Enough of this, Clark.” She nudges the box toward me.
Clearly, I’m supposed to open the thing and get it up and functional. I palm the small rectangle of cardboard and turn it, finding a taped end. My thumbnail rhythmically scrapes across it, and I pick until a sliver of tape curls up. I pinch the free end and pull, the odd line of tape doing nothing to free the flaps of the box.
With a huff from Erin, the box flies out of my hands and reappears seconds later, empty with the contents set before me. Powered on, and the activation process started. “Are you going to finish setting this thing up, or do I need to have Chance hack your password and do it for you?”
The answer is no. I don’t even want to think about the shit that would end up on my phone if those two did the setup. Porn and God knows what else from Chance, and I’m sure a tracking app from Erin.
I don’t say a word. I just pull the phone toward me and tap in my email and password at each prompt. Sadly, my diligent focus on the task doesn’t discourage Erin from getting comfortable. Instead, I’m treated to twenty minutes of getting my ass handed to me by my boss. And more importantly, by my friend.
“I can’t keep lying for you,” Erin says.
“Can’t or won’t?” I ask. The look on Erin’s face leaves no doubt that there’s little difference. With my elbows propped on my desk, splayed wide, I scrub at my face. I’m sure my overgrown beard is wild. “I never asked you to. You want to talk about me? Go right ahead. I don’t give a shit, Erin. I don’t fucking care.”
“That’s the thing.” Her voice softens with concern. Concern I don’t want. Concern I don’t deserve. “I don’t want to talk about you. I want to talk to you. With you. I want you to trust in the people around you, who care about you.”
I glance up to see Jason give me a tight nod as he slips into his office. Even Chance tosses a look my way.
“Erin,” I sigh heavily and throw my hands in the air, exasperated.
“You’ve become an important part of the team here. Fire Born Security… It’s more than a job, and you know it. We’re a family.”
I hit her with an exaggerated slow blink and raise my brow.
“Fine. It’s a fucked-up family, and we’re ridiculous, embarrassing and completely inappropriate most of the time. But when things are tough or shit goes south, we’re here. We’ve got your back, and we want to help. We just need you to be present. To talk to us.” Her body is tense, eyes sternly serious, but she’s leaning forward, eager, wanting me to buy in and embrace what she’s saying.
“I get that, but?—”
“Sometimes, superheroes need saving, too. Three days in your fortress of solitude is enough. A chapter of your life is over. It’s done. That doesn’t mean the whole story is. You have an amazing opportunity here, not just your job—your job is fine—but you have kids you’ve coached, a damsel you’ve saved.” She pauses to let her meaning sink in. As if I could have possibly missed it. “And you have Chance.”
“Chance?”
“Yep. We took a vote and decided he’s your responsibility. No one else wants to hold his hair back when he pukes. You’re stuck with him.” She glances over her shoulder and then pins me in place again as she stands. “And I’m not your secretary. I was fine telling Tyler you needed him to coach on Saturday, but from here on out, you need to take care of your own communication. Maybe leave a little early today to weed through all your messages.” With that, Erin walks away, leaving me to a killer headache and a phone bouncing across my desk with incoming notifications.
“What was Erin all up your ass about?” Chance asks, twisting around to keep a set of perky tits in his line of sight for as long as possible.
I drag the last of my fries through a smear of ketchup and toss them in my mouth. I wash them down with the rest of my pint. “Love, support, and a little bit of get your shit together .”
“Just a little?” He lifts his empty glass and points to mine, wordlessly ordering us another round.
“And I guess I officially have custody of you, so you need to get your shit together, too,” I say, pushing my empty plate away.
“Yeah? So, you’re saying I need to find myself a nice little mommy like you did? How’s that going anyway? She’s sick of your sorry ass, right? That’s why you’re hanging out with me again.” There’s no subtlety in the way Chance rakes his eyes up and down our waitress when she delivers our beers. “Thanks, doll. You’re free later, yeah?”
“You’re a fucking pig,” I say on a laugh.
“Whatever. Seriously though, you done with the single mom?”
I shrug in answer.
“So, you don’t care if I step in? Take a turn and tap that?”
Fucker is making plans for tonight with the barely legal waitress and disrespecting Chloe in the same breath.
“Off-limits,” I growl.
Chance flexes, rubbing a freshly inked hand over his chest, and winks as another server passes by. “You don’t want her, but no one else can have her. That’s some shit right there, son. Bad fucking form.” He just laughs at the scowl I throw him and continues, “I told you not to mess with the single mom, told you that was a bad idea. You went and caught feelings, both of you, and now, you’re ghosting. That’s fucking low class. She deserves better than that.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“Then, give it to her. Commit or don’t, but don’t fuck with her head. Or her kid’s. Man up, Clark.”
The time I’ve spent with Chance this week, the more I’ve realized, I hardly know him. Since when is Chance Robinson the voice of reason?
The scent of fresh cut grass fills the air, and I wonder how the hell I ended up sitting in my truck, checking to see if Jake has mowed the lawn. He leans into the slight incline and stops to wipe the sweat from his face when he hits the crest.
The fact that I’m awake and out in the world this early is strictly attributable to Chance being in full mission mode last night. Not wanting anything to do with him getting his dick wet, I actually went home at a reasonable hour and got some sleep.
“Miles,” Jake yells, letting the mower engine die. He bounds across the street and bounces on his toes a handful of times before catching himself and crossing his arms low over his chest. “You’re finally back. Are you coming to hang out today? Mom’s inside. You want me to tell her you’re here, or do you wanna surprise her?” He takes a step back, his huge grin stabbing me in the heart.
“Watch it.” I dash my arm out, pulling him back to the side of the truck and out of the street. “I’m not staying, just wanted to see if you were keeping up with your end of our deal.”
The kid looks over his shoulder at the yard, only a few rows left to be mowed. “Uh-huh. I even trimmed the edges last week. Wanna see?”
I can see it from here, the jagged lines along the curb. “Can’t. I’ve got to…” There is nothing I need to do today. Shifting in my seat, I pull my wallet from my back pocket and rifle through it. I pull a wad of cash out, a couple hundred bucks, and hand it to him.
Jake’s brows pinch together, and his chin juts forward.
“That should cover the summer,” I say, glancing at the sideview mirror of my truck.
I want to jet before Chloe wanders out. I’m managing, but if faced with seeing her, I’m pretty sure I’ll crumble and beg for forgiveness. She definitely deserves better.
“So, you’re done with us? What about the rules?” Disappointment winds itself around Jake as he turns away from me. His shoulders slump, making him look small and vulnerable.
I want to tell him to stand up straight, make eye contact, but any reference to the rules of being a gentleman would be hollow now. “Take good care of your mom,” I say, willing him to look at me.
He doesn’t. Instead, Jake takes a bracing breath, squares his shoulders, and stands tall, offering, “I will, sir. Thank you for the time you were able to give us.” He thrusts his hand out, and when it’s firmly grasped within my larger palm, he shakes strong and with purposeful confidence.
Watching him turn and walk away makes my chest swell with pride. He’s so different from the attitude-filled, snot-nosed kid I first met months ago in the convenience store. Much as I don’t want to risk seeing Chloe, I stay where I am and watch as Jake starts the mower and finishes the last strips of longer grass. He doesn’t acknowledge that I’m still here as he wheels the mower to the side of the house, thoroughly cleaning it off. Not even a glance as he pushes it past me and stows it in the garage.
But when Chloe steps out onto the patio to admire his work, my heart stutters to a stop.
She looks exhausted, her skin pale, her eyes swollen and red. She hugs Jake to her, holding him tight. When she pulls back and cups his face between her hands, concern pinches her eyes. A small smile. A single nod and a kiss to his forehead, and then she turns and ushers him into the house.
The last thing I see in my rearview mirror as I drive away is Chloe leaning against the sliding glass door, a hand pressed against her stomach and the other pressed to her lips.