Chapter 3 Wesley
Wesley
“Congratulations, Mr Parker, on the sale of your house.”
Lidia, the sales assistant, pushes the final papers over for me to sign. I should be happy the sale went through as quickly as it did, but there’s no denying the ache in my chest, knowing it will no longer be a part of my family name.
I’m going to have to get used to living a stone’s throw away from my new neighbours.
Sharing part of my space with strangers isn’t my idea of rural living.
Gone are the days when I could sit outside in my boxers, drinking coffee or sipping on a beer in the summer, enjoying the views of endless fields with only a couple of outbuildings breaking up the view.
The other house has an acre of land, divided into two sections, one at the back, wrapping around to the far side, hidden from my view.
My hand trembles as I pick up the paper.
“You okay, mate?” Tristan asks, he thought it would be a good idea to come with me rather than going to work.
“You don’t have to stay; you can go back to work.” He leans back in the chair and shoves a hand through his thick dirty blond hair.
“Hey, I’m here to support you in your time of need.” He’s only here to check out Lidia, who wasn’t interested the first time he tried to convince the poor girl to go out with him.
I inherited my parents’ house when they passed away.
Mum died seventeen years ago when I was twenty and Dad, four years ago.
Although the divorce was granted a year after Dad died, we’d been separated longer, which Dad never knew.
I never wanted to hurt him. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them.
I’m thirty-seven, living alone and throwing myself into work, because it’s the only thing I can count on to keep me going.
My safety net.
While Lidia is most likely thinking about her commission, I’m stuck dwelling on the fact that I had no choice but to sell off the little house my parents worked so hard to keep. We built memories there as a family.
I swallow the lump lodged in my throat as I scrawl my signature across the final paperwork, telling myself I didn’t have a choice. But it still feels like I’ve let them down.
Moving into the old farmhouse where I grew up was never my intention, but after my ex and I divorced, it seemed like the right decision.
The clause stated she got a percentage of the inheritance because we were still together when Dad was alive.
You’d think after what she did, she’d just walk away and let me get on with my life.
But no, she had other plans, like coming after me for more money.
She’d already taken half my savings, so here I am, signing over part of my memories for a woman who’ll spend it sipping cocktails at some fancy five-star luxury retreat while I struggle to make ends meet after renovating the house next door to the one I grew up in, just so I could pay her off once and for all.
Because, of course, she managed to sink her claws into the house we bought together as well.
She walked away with a nice fat cheque, leaving me with nothing but my business as a builder, without a pot to piss in.
My parents’ home is the only thing standing that I have left of them.
She can get fucked if she thought for one minute I’d sell it to pay her off.
But of course, it left me with no choice but to sell the little house next door.
Pushing the papers across Lidia’s desk, I watch as she scans the sheets before adding something into her computer. She’s a nice girl, but her perfume is giving me a headache. I can already feel the pressure building behind my eyes.
“So, what’s the plan after we’re done here?” Tristan nudges me while reading something on his phone.
“Some of us have work to do,” I grunt. It’s not his fault but I’ve had enough and just want to get out of here.
Sometimes I envy his laid-back approach to life, then I remember he’s a player without a care in the world. Don’t get me wrong — he’s always honest with everyone he meets.
“I get the message. I’m out of here. I’ll call you later,” he says, getting up from his chair and tipping his imaginary hat to Lidia.
“Offer still stands, Lidia?” He flashes her a knowing grin before making his exit.
“When do the new owners get the keys?” The words taste bitter, but I have no intention of sticking around when they do move in. I’d sooner not mix. I even thought about putting up a fence, but Tristan said I was being a wanker. He was probably right.
“Hmmm… actually, the buyers are coming in to sign any minute now.” Her smile is wide with excitement, but it makes my stomach drop faster than a rollercoaster.
“We done here?” I don’t want to be here when they arrive; exchanging small talk has never been my thing.
She glances over my shoulder, then back at me, leaning in slightly.
“So, what are you going to do to celebrate your sale, Mr Parker?” She practically purrs my name, tilting her head to the side.
“I mean... I finish work at five?” She tugs her lower lip between her teeth, a blush creeping over the apples of her cheeks as she waits for my reply.
She’s not going to like my answer, but it’s the best I can give her.
“Good for you, but I’ll be working. If that’s all, I take it we’re done here?” She nods frantically before turning away, and I practically storm out of the office, heading straight for my truck.
“Wesley?” Someone calls out my name as I’m about to hop in my truck.
I spin around to see Jake from the paper shop.
The lads only got to be about eighteen, I don’t have time to stop and chat.
I just want to get the hell out of here before the new neighbours show up to sign the papers.
Since my truck is the only one parked in the estate agent’s car park, it won’t take a genius to work out who I am.
“What’s up, Jake?” The lad looks a little awkward, eyes flicking down at his feet. One hand rubbing the back of his neck, his red shaggy hair falling into his eyes.
“Uh, my dad… I was wondering if this…” He pulls out a scrunched-up newspaper from his rucksack and points to the circled ad.
“Is the labourer job still going?” He's a good kid. Little timid but keeps himself to himself. He’s great with the customers when I’ve popped in for a few bits.
Technically, interviews are left to my site foreman.
I know I should be telling him to call Frank, but something tells me to give the lad a break, he clearly needs to be mixing with people his own age.
I’ve never seen him in the pub or with his mates.
His dad once mentioned he hardly leaves his room, always gaming.
Or as he put it, glued to the fucking computer.
Thinking back, maybe his dad was trying to ask me subtly if I had any work for him. I should have picked up on it.
I take a proper look at Jake and think that this could be good for him.
Might help him come out of his shell a bit.
“It’s still going, mate. You want to pop by in a bit?
” His whole face lights up, like I’ve just offered him the world.
His pale cheeks flush red and yeah, this kid needs to get out in the fresh air and daylight.
All my labourers can work their way up if they work hard.
“Really? Like, are you serious?” I chuckle.
His reaction lifts my deflated mood without even trying.
I’ll give him a trial run, let him see for himself. I’ll just have to let Frank know to remove the ad.
“Why don’t you come to the site? You know where we’re working?” He nods, full of enthusiasm. I tap his shoulder, then look at my watch. “Come and see me around 3pm.” I glance down at his feet — bright white Lacoste pumps won’t survive a builder’s yard. “Change your shoes for boots.”
“Thanks, Wesley. I… I won’t be late.” I ruffle his head and watch him walk off, grinning from ear to ear. It’s easy to forget how good it feels, giving someone a chance — like my dad gave me.
A car rolls into the car park. Knowing who it is, I jump into my truck and get out of there.
I’m not in the mood to mingle with the neighbours.
I’ll have enough time to meet them once they move in, plus if I want to be back at the yard in time to meet Jake later, I need to get the rest of my errands done.