Trust (Twisted Hearts Duet Book 3)

by Max Henry

  “I’m not getting the hours at the yard,” I throw back. “How the fuck am I supposed to save anything when I can barely support us as it is?”

  She sets Bradley down. “Why do Anderson and McConnell have to be your only source of income?”

  I squint at the blonde bombshell and wonder if her peroxide has finally sizzled too many brain cells.

  “Do you have an exclusivity clause in your contract?”

  “A what?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Is there a paragraph that says you can only work for them?”

  “I don’t know.”

  One arm after the other, she slowly folds them across herself. “Did you not read it before you signed it?”

  “Nope.” They’re all the same. Why bother?

  Jodie shoves a hand through her shoulder-length waves. “Tell me you at least have a copy.”

  “Yeah. In the box of documents in Sera’s wardrobe.”

  She doesn’t wait for an invitation, spinning on her heel to retrieve it herself—good thing I have no secrets from my ex.

  “You seeing this, baby girl?” I ask Sera as she plops herself on her butt to watch me.

  “Ma?”

  Fuck’s sake. “No, sugar. Dad. Daddy.”

  She awkwardly pulls herself to her feet, arms reaching for me. “Ma!”

  “Is it this one?” Jodie returns, the old file box cradled in her arms.

  “Yeah.” I scoop Sera off the floor. “She doesn’t even know my name; I’m not home that much.”

  “Oh, get off the grass.” Jodie sets the box on the coffee table and promptly removes the lid. “She’s barely six months old, Zeus. She knows, like, three or four words.”

  “She should know my damn name by now.”

  Leaning back on the sofa, she rests the stack of papers in her hands atop her lap and sighs. “Once she starts in daycare, you’ll be surprised how fast she develops simply by associating with other kids her age.”

  “Yeah, I hope so.”

  “Stop being so damn pessimistic.” Her focus has already returned to the documents. “What am I looking for? Is it in an envelope?”

  “Nah. Should be loose near the top there.” I don’t have many papers to my name. Mostly finance documents and ownership papers for various vehicles.

  “Found it.” She slides the contract free, Bradley tugging on her sleeve. Without looking away from the paper, Jodie scoops Bradley around the waist and sets him down beside her.

  For the briefest second, I wonder what it would have felt like to see her doing that with our kid. Had things been different, this would have been the norm. Maybe life would be easier, considering Jodie holds down a steady job, but I can’t say it would have been happier.

  I love Jodie but as a friend. It took me far too long to see that.

  “From what I can tell skimming it,” she announces, “you’re good to work elsewhere if you wanted.”

  “When would I fit it in, though?” I seat myself on the armchair, Sera on my knees. “Last time I checked, labouring was a full-time gig.”

  “I don’t think so.” She returns everything to the box and slides the top on. “Eric has a few guys that only do a couple of days a week.”

  “A couple of days, sure. But I can’t imagine anyone offering a couple of hours on the odd occasion.”

  “So get a job doing something else.” She shrugs. “You’re a physical guy. You could do anything that required manual labour.”

  “Maybe.” I still think she’s got her head in the clouds if she believes I can find anything that versatile.

  “Are you home for good now?”

  “Yep.” I nod my head toward the window. “Rained out. Again.”

  She scowls at the steady, fat droplets splatting against the glass. “Ugh. Great. I had washing on the line.”

  “Guess you’ve got it indoors now,” I jest.

  She huffs in reply, collecting Bradley as she stands. “I’m going to head off anyway. I need to swing by the chemist on the way home.”

  “All good.”

  She flits around collecting her things while I play with Sera, tickling her with the ends of her fine hair and grinning like the lovestruck fool I am each time she giggles.

  “Catch you later!” Jodie pulls the front door open before adding, “Say bye to Belle for me too.”

  I frown at my daughter as the door shuts. “Trust me when I say this, baby girl.” She wriggles her nappy-clad arse on my leg. “Goodbye is one thing I’ll never say to your mumma.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Belle

  Dad and I haven’t spoken a word to each other since we got back in the ute after loading my new equipment. The ride was so freakin’ riddled with tension that I cracked the window just to feel as though I could breathe.

  He reverses up our driveway, but the first thing I notice isn’t that he still doesn’t speak to me when he gets out and starts unloading—it’s that Jodie’s car is gone.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter, stepping out into the steady rain without a care.

  Why did she leave?

  “Jodie?” I shove the front door open and come to a grinding halt when Zeus lifts his palm to me.

  “Sera’s asleep.”

  I check the time on my wrist. “Now? It’s almost dinner time. You should have made her stay up.”

  The arsehole says nothing. Just stands there in a T-shirt that sits a little too short on his torso, revealing a hint of the muscles pointing down into his sweatpants. The slightest tilt of his lips on one side grows until he stares at me with a shit-eating grin that dares me to challenge him.

  “How was your day out?” he asks with thinly veiled sarcasm, turning for the garage at the sound of Dad moving around.

  “Fine.” I trail him through the house, frustrated that he no doubt deliberately used Sera sleeping as a way to shut me up.

  I peek my head in her door on the way past, relieved when I spot her little frame diagonal across her cot mattress. It won’t be long, and we’ll need to get her a proper bed.

  Where is my baby going?

  Zeus opens the internal door, pushing his hair out of his face with a rough shove of his hand as he crosses the floor to where Dad retrieves the next box.

  Neither man says a thing.

  I shut the door to keep the noise down for Sera and then prop a shoulder against the wall to watch the two of them work. Zeus lifts a larger box off the tray of the ute and takes it to where Dad has started a neat pile against the far wall. My father gives him a rather neutral side-eye and carries on with the next. The two of them unload the gear, Zeus standing aside while Dad pops the tailgate back up and secures the tonneau.

  It’s ridiculous. Childish.

  “Would you like a coffee before you go, Dad?”

  Zeus’s head snaps around as though he didn’t realise I was still out here with them.

  “Would you like me to help set any of this up first?” Dad gestures to what is essentially Christmas for me; shiny new things ready to be unwrapped and played with.

  “No.” I smile sweetly at my significant other. “I think Zeus can help me later if need be.”

  I get a grumble and folded arms in response.

  “In that case, then …” Dad makes his way over, passing by and slipping inside the house.

  I tip my head toward Zeus. “Are you coming or would you rather I left you out here to brood in silence for a while longer?”

  “I don’t need a coffee,” he mumbles, turning away.

  “You can still come to socialise,” I grit out through a stiff jaw.

  He plain ignores me, heading out into the rain and down to our letterbox. The mail doesn’t need clearing; the postie doesn’t come today. Either he’s desperate for distraction, or he’s completely lost what day of the week it is.

  Both are possible.

  I head indoors and join Dad for a hot drink, discussing the details of his upcoming nuptials for lack of anything else to talk about. I’d partially assumed he
’d leave without coming inside when I asked, especially after the way we travelled home.

  The idea was to get the guys inside and talking to one another. Some success that was—not.

  Fifteen minutes later, and Zeus still hasn’t come back indoors. I consider making another coffee but opt to stop stalling and start dinner instead. Dad gets the hint when I pull a pot out and drop some rice in, downing the last mouthful of his cold brew.

  “I’ll let Sharon know you’re coming,” he says, rising from the stool at the breakfast bar. “She’ll be glad to hear it.”

  “Tell her to message me,” I say, bent double while I select vegetables from the bottom of the fridge. “We can catch up one week.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Dad seems surprised.

  If he is, he does a fantastic job of schooling his features as he checks his pockets for his keys.

  “I think you left them in the ute.”

  “Right.” He pats his chest pockets one last time and then sighs.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I relent. “I appreciate the help today.”

  “No problem, honey.” He gives me a brief smile and then turns for the garage.

  I watch him go, waiting to see if the sound of the door closing will wake Sera. Sure enough, a disorientated garble follows the tiniest click of the latch. I check the stove and then turn to retrieve her.

  Zeus beats me to it. He steps in the internal door, pauses, and redirects into her bedroom.

  I’m already peeling carrots when he saunters into the living area with her in his arms. “Would you like help?” He jerks his chin toward my growing pile of diced vegetables.

  “No. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  Can I help? His way of saying, I’m sorry for being an arse before. God help the man if he ever apologised directly.

  “Let me know when you can spare a minute, and I’ll show you something.”

  The frown on his face concerns me. What now? A rat infestation in the garage? Something else wrong with my car?

  I slam the knife down beside the stack of vegetables and then turn the element down a fraction. ”Show me now.”

  He leads us out the way he came in, crossing through our garage toward the studio door. I don’t notice a thing, too lost in my head worrying about what he has to say until I step inside.

  The boxes are no longer in the garage, the items arranged around the room where they’ll roughly go. Zeus even unpacked the ink that arrived from the courier yesterday and lined the bottles up on the counter, ready for me to house in the wall racks.

  “I didn’t know what order you prefer the colours in,” he comments, watching me eyeball his handiwork.

  “Babe.” He’s never been the best with words; told me that from the start.

  But how could I hold that against him when he makes up for it with these little gestures?

  “I don’t know what to say.” I run my hand over the leather chair that he’s uncovered and dragged out from where we stashed it in the corner.

  “How about, you say you’ll promise never to doubt yourself and make this what you dreamed it to be?” Zeus sets Sera down.

  She promptly heads for the chair and sits on the opposite side to me.

  “I can’t promise that,” I say softly. “I’m artistic; it’s in my nature to doubt myself.” I round the seat, dodging our daughter, and step toe-to-toe with him. “I will promise, though, that we will make your dream a reality next.”

  “Don’t.” He shakes his head, black locks sliding free of his shoulder and curtaining his face.

  I reach up and tuck them behind his ear, then running my fingertips down his stubbled jaw. “You’ve never given up on me,” I say. “What makes you think I’d ever give up on you?”

  “Dove.” The pain slashes across his face. “Just focus on this for now, okay?”

  I relent, sighing as I slide my hands around his thick waist and band my hands on his lower back. He reciprocates, pulling me against his hard body.

  Even the loud “Ma” cry from Sera as she explores the room isn’t enough to pull me from this moment.

  I realise, as I stand there familiarising myself with his dips and swells all over again, that it’s been far too long since I just held Zeus. Since we did nothing but enjoy what we have: each other.

  I don’t want the time between to stretch on like that ever again. I made a promise to be with this man forever, and I plan to not only keep it but honour it.

  “As much as I love this,” he rumbles above me, “you probably need to check dinner.”

  Fuck it. I tug myself away from Zeus and turn for the door. He catches me by the elbow, and I barely have time to note Sera heading for the opening before Zeus’s mouth crashes over mine. With a firm palm splayed against my cheek, he sweeps his tongue slowly across mine, once, twice, parting with an unspoken promise to continue this later.

  “I may get mad at times, dove, but don’t you ever doubt how much I love you.”

  I wish I could say that I don’t, but when you care so deeply for something or someone, it’s only natural to believe that it must be too good to last.

  “This is a new leaf for us, babe,” I say instead. “It won’t be long, and we would have already forgotten how shit these past months have been.”

  His eyes don’t carry the same sincerity as his words. “I know.” With a pat on my arse, he turns me for the door. “Go check dinner and I’ll round up the rascal.”

  I believe it to my core—this is our turning point, our fork in the road. I know that come hell or high water, I’ll make this business work because there’s nothing else I’d rather do.

  What I don’t know, though, is how long it will be before Zeus comes around and stops seeing this as a competition between us. This isn’t just my career. This is our future.

  I’m prepared to sacrifice plenty of things to get this studio humming. But what I won’t sacrifice is us.

  EIGHTEEN

  Zeus

  We agreed to meet on neutral ground.

  Bells go off in the gaming room as some mug wins himself enough back to buy his next round. The woman behind the bar looks as though she’s on her third shift straight, the light long extinguished from her eyes as she pours another tap beer for the guy on my right.

  To the left, a group of five young tradies strut around the open pool table, drawing attention to themselves as though anybody gives a shit.

  There’s a reason why I don’t come to the pub much anymore, and it’s not having a woman and child waiting at home for me. It’s the excessive amounts of testosterone that flow as freely as the drinks across the bar.

  An invitation for trouble. An excuse for a guy such as me to find a little stress relief.

  I pop another pastille of gum in my mouth and bite down hard, aiming to get some respite from the crack of the hard shell. Nope. Nada.

  My hard stare sits trained on the cockiest of the group, shoving his friends around to prove he’s the alpha in the pack. I consider my options, check how many pieces of gum I have left, and expel a loaded breath when my saving grace arrives.

  Or should I say my distraction? I wouldn’t give the arsehole that much credit—it’d probably go straight to his already over-inflated head.

  “Zeus.”

  “Eric.” I don’t bother to shift my elbows off the bar or turn to address him.

  He settles on the stool beside mine and orders a drink. Bourbon on the rocks. Still the same.

  “Can’t say I thought I’d see the day when you’d be back in my yard,” he states, staring straight ahead.

  I glare down at the half-drunk dark ale in my hand. “That makes two of us.”

  “How many hours you need, then?” He empties his pockets onto the bar for comfort: fat wallet, smokes, and keys.

  I guess he can’t shake all of his vices.

  “Whatever you have spare outside of my regular.”

  “Five until two, right?”

  “Jodie been saying a bit then?” I say casually before taking a
limp-wristed swig of my beer.

  “You know her better than I do,” he bites back.

  I snort. “Oh, I don’t think so, mate.” Otherwise, I would have known she was fucking him behind my back.

  “I can give you three until seven, Monday to Thursday.”

  “Taken.”

  Eric slowly turns to face me. He rests a shirt-clad elbow on the bar. “Just so we’re clear.” Here it comes. “You have Jodie to thank for my generosity. If it were up to me, I would have laughed in your goddamn face.”

  I match his stance, an inch on height over him and a darn sight more intimidating in a tank top, my overalls rolled down to my waist. “I still can’t figure out what your issue with me is.” I lean in close for dramatic effect. “After all, man, you were the one who fucked my wife while I was in prison. If anyone should be holding a grudge, don’t you think it should be me?”

  He flinches yet holds his ground. Guy earns half a point in respect. Still miles off sliding back into my good books, though.

  “Don’t push it, Meyers.” He slings my surname like a curse word as he turns, drains his drink, and collects his things. “Twelve hours a week.” Eric stands, sliding the possessions back in his pockets before he adds, “At apprentice rates.”

  Cunt.

  NINETEEN

  Belle

  The first night, I figured he hung back to talk with the guys. The second, I wondered if he got held up in traffic. By the fourth night without Zeus at home for dinner, I straight up asked him where he was.

  “Working,” was the only response I got.

  So, I drove past the Anderson and McConnell yard with Sera tucked up in the back seat to confirm my suspicions. So, sue me. The yard sat darker than a new moon without a single sign of life.

  And yet, Zeus still wasn’t home.

  I caved, opening the tracking app on our phones to see where he was only to find his location switched off.

  Now, there comes a point in a woman’s mind when all rationality flies out the window, and she’ll assume the worst. Most women wait until they find hard evidence—a message to an unknown number, different perfume, or articles of clothing that most definitely aren’t hers.