by Grey, R. S.
Our boots hit the dirt. Silence stretches on until he fills it.
“She reminds me a little of my daughter.” Then he snorts. “Nah, I take that back. My daughter’s a girly girl through and through. She’s never once asked me a question about a jobsite. Maybe I just mean that Taylor brings out some kind of paternal instinct in me.”
“Robert, are you going soft on me?” I smirk as we near the edge of the lake. We have soil engineers out here performing a secondary analysis before we continue leveling the ground.
He waves away my joke. “No, no, nothing like that. I don’t know.” He turns to study me. “She just seems a little…I don’t know, like a wounded bird. Don’t you think?”
I want to tell him it’s an act, that anything having to do with Taylor is a facade she erects for her own benefit. I saw that firsthand the night we met. She was the wounded bird then, too, and I wanted to be the one to rescue her. Turns out, I was the one who could’ve used a little rescuing.
* * *
I’m on the phone with Isla later that evening when Taylor peeks her head in the trailer and asks if I’d like her to bring me dinner since they’re about to shut down the kitchen. I didn’t realize it was so late.
“Yeah, I’ll be working for another hour or so.”
She nods and closes the door right before Isla nearly shouts, “That sounded like a woman!”
“It was.”
“Not just a woman, but a young pretty one!”
“How can you tell what someone looks like just from hearing their voice?” I mock, glad she can’t see my scowl.
“It’s a gift. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“This conversation is pointless.”
“Oh my god, I’m right! I knew it. Why didn’t you tell me there was a pretty woman working with you? Is she part of the crew?”
“She’s my assistant.”
“Oh, I see.”
I roll my eyes. “You see nothing.”
“What a scandalous turn of events,” she continues, grabbing hold of this stupid idea she’s gotten into her head.
“Goodbye, Isla.”
“Have fun with your new assistant!”
As soon as I hang up, Taylor returns balancing two plates and a can of Coke.
“They made tacos tonight and I wasn’t sure how you liked them, so I just put all the toppings on the side. Lots of guacamole, that’s a given. Some sour cream, lettuce, tomatoes. I didn’t go heavy on the hot sauce, but I can get more if you need it.”
She sets the plates down on my desk, careful not to put the food too close to the plans stretched out beside my keyboard.
Then she moves to leave.
“Taylor—”
Her name is tossed between us like a grenade. Silence follows. Then, I remind myself that usually when someone addresses another person, there’s a reason. I’m supposed to follow her name with something. Taylor, can you get me some water? Taylor, thanks for the tacos. Taylor, hi.
In truth, I said her name because I want to ask where she’s been sleeping the last two nights, but I stopped myself because I’m unsure I want to know the answer. It could be with that Max guy.
And if it is?
The thought doesn’t sit well with me. I wish I could say it’s because I’m worried about Max’s safety or wellbeing, but there’s no mistaking this twisting feeling in my gut.
“Did you need something?” she asks, brows raised with hope.
I look down at the food she carefully arranged for me. “No. That’s all.”
Chapter 16
Taylor
I’ve found that by making me prove my own usefulness, Ethan has likely turned me into a better employee than I ever would have been otherwise. I’m so determined to work hard and make him aware of how hard I’m working, I barely stop moving during the second week at the camp. If I’m not straightening up the trailer or cleaning the cabin, I’m making sure Ethan’s coffee is topped off (he does like it with sugar!) or that he hasn’t missed lunch or dinner. I run messages back and forth between Robert and Hudson and Ethan.
I don’t wait for him to tell me he needs his laundry washed again. I take the initiative and make sure it’s folded and back in his drawers when it’s all clean.
When Ethan has to go out and walk the property, I stay back and answer the central office cell phone. It rarely rings since most people who’d need to call have Ethan’s personal number, but when it does, I take thorough messages and leave them neatly on his desk for him.
I learn how to use the scanner and have Hudson walk me through their preferred filing system. There’s apparently a ridiculous amount of paperwork involved in building projects. Ethan has started to leave me items he’d like scanned and filed on Lockwood’s online database. Since most of the time I have no idea what I’m looking at, he usually jots down where he wants me to store it. It’s a win-win for everyone because it gives me one more task and frees Hudson up to be out on the site more.
On top of being as useful as possible to Ethan, I try to do the same for everyone else at the camp as well. The catering team—a husband and wife duo they brought in from Austin—mostly keep to themselves, but I make sure to come early for meals and help with setup, and if they’re in the trenches during a lunch rush, they put me to work doling out food. Last night, I offered to help wash dishes, and I think I saw genuine tears in their eyes.
The subcontractors and crew have started to realize that the quickest way to get information to Ethan is through me, so I start to get waylaid with messages for him. It works well because Ethan wants me out of his hair so badly he’s quick to give me a response for them. They’re always grateful for the fast turnaround since time is money on a project like this.
Robert gets his own special treatment because I happen to like him. I’ve been sneaking him snacks from the mess hall in the afternoons and in exchange he updates me about what they’re doing on the site that day.
Basically, my goal is to become an asset to everyone I come across, that way when Ethan finally decides he’s had enough of me, maybe they’ll all revolt and demand justice on my behalf.
The only hiccup in my master plan is that I’m still sleeping in Jeremy’s truck at night. I’ve added a pillow and blanket I stripped from my bunk in Ethan’s cabin on top of what I brought from home in an effort to make it semi-comfortable, but let’s call a spade a spade. It sucks and I don’t think I will last much longer.
By Friday morning, I’m so happy about the prospect of going home. Not only will I get a decent night’s sleep, I’ll also have a break from incessantly attempting to please a man who is apparently un-pleasable.
I get the sense he’s not going to forgive me for my perceived grievances against him any time soon, and maybe I’m not all that angry about it because deep down, I know I deserve his anger. I did steal from him. I did use him. Just because I didn’t take the cash doesn’t mean I didn’t do anything wrong.
I thought perhaps he’d start to be charmed by my hardworking enthusiasm, but no.
It’d be different if I were making progress, if I saw a hint of a smile peek out from beneath his moody exterior, if even one kind word had been uttered in my direction, even once. Don’t get me wrong, we do talk, but it’s only if it pertains to work, and there’s no fluff around it, no blooming comradery among coworkers.
I watch him carefully whenever he interacts with other people to try to determine if I’m reading too much into his treatment of me. Like Max said, it could just be his personality. My findings are as follows: he’s not chummy with the crew, though that’s not all that surprising—no one wants to hang out with their boss after hours. With Robert and a few of the subcontractors, though, he’s relaxed and—dare I say—good-natured. Last night, he ate dinner outside with them and I saw him smile. The glorious sight threw me for such a loop that I tripped over my own foot and pitched forward onto the dirt. Fortunately, Max helped me scramble back to my feet and I brushed my jeans off quickly. When I peered back over in Et
han’s direction, he was back to scowling. Ah yes, that’s more like it.
But honestly…DIMPLES. I saw them!
Mr. I’d-rather-die-than-smile-in-your-vicinity has dimples!
If that’s not injustice, I don’t know what is.
I’m still thinking of that smile at quitting time on Friday. Truth be told, I’ve been carrying it around with me all day like it’s my little reward for a week of hard work. Why, you might ask? Why do I care at all about Ethan’s smile? Why, after everything we’ve been through, do I still think of him incessantly? Oh, it’s simple: despite his cold demeanor and bad attitude, I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting his attention. I know it’s purely physical. I know his muscular build and perfect jawline are catnip to my libido. I know, I know, I know, and yet I want, I want, I want.
I can’t turn it off. I can’t help the memories of our kiss that flood my mind.
Because that’s the thing I cannot quite comprehend: I KISSED THIS MAN.
At one point, this arrogant boss of mine wanted me so badly he followed me into a public bathroom and hauled me up onto the sink and kissed me like I was the sweetest damn thing he’d ever tasted. I get a tingle down my spine just thinking of it.
I wonder if he thinks about it too…
I shake the thought from my head when I spot Jeremy in the distance. I’ve been leaning against his truck for the past hour, expecting him to show up any minute. All my stuff is already tucked away inside due to the fact that the truck has been my bedroom for most of the week. All we gotta do is start ’er up and head home.
I can’t wait to get a tight hug from McKenna. I can’t wait to see my mom smile, happier than ever because we’re all three together again. Without a doubt, there’s a stack of pancakes in my future, and my stomach grumbles just thinking about it.
“Where’ve you been?” I ask as Jeremy nears.
It’s later than I was planning on leaving. All but a few cars have gone. Even Ethan already headed back home for the weekend—not that I noticed him driving off in his truck or the fact that he didn’t even wave as he passed me by.
That’s when I see Jeremy’s face and notice it doesn’t shine with happiness at the prospect of being reunited with his beloved Khloe in just a couple of hours. In fact, he looks shocked. His hair is standing on end like he’s been tugging his hands through it. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed.
“What’s going on?” I ask, right before he reaches out and pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
“Taylor…I’m…” He laughs and sounds absolutely deranged. Did someone slip him something during lunch?
“What? What’s wrong?!”
“I’m going to be a dad,” he finally forces out, barely above a whisper.
I jerk back, hands flying to cup either side of my face. “What?!”
What is he talking about? We were just at work. Dad? What? How? Who did he impregnate?
He claps a hand over his mouth and shakes his head. His eyes are welling with tears, and now the redness makes sense. He’s been crying.
From joy.
“Jeremy, that’s…” My voice breaks. “That’s really great news.”
More than anything, I want Jeremy to be happy, and he is happy right now. He’s over the moon about this news, news that is going to absolutely turn his world upside down.
“I can’t even believe it. I just got off the phone with Khloe. She’s been trying to reach me all day. She’s already six months along.”
“Six months?! Hasn’t she been showing?”
My heart races trying to catch up with all this news.
He nods, more tears running down his cheeks before he wipes them away. “She’s always been curvy and I guess I should have been paying more attention, but it doesn’t matter now. She says we’re having a little girl and she wants to name her Jacqueline after her grandmother. She was keeping it a secret because she wasn’t sure how I’d take it. That’s why she called me here instead of just waiting until I got home. She was nervous I’d want nothing to do with her or the baby.”
I can’t wrap my head around this. Jeremy had goals. He wanted to get out of debt and start building up a nest egg. I’m so happy for him—I am—I just…
What happens now?
Apparently, what happens now is that Jeremy is moving.
Khloe has family in San Antonio, an aunt and an uncle who want to help her out. Her uncle has work for Jeremy at a car dealership he manages.
“It’s a good opportunity for us.”
“Better than this?” I ask, feeling like a jerk for even bringing it up. I’m just still in shock.
His eyes find mine and pity settles there. I feel terrible. He should be getting to enjoy this moment, but how can he with me standing here like a joy-sucking leech?
“Khloe’s dead set on going to San Antonio, and I can’t abandon her. I have to do what’s best for my family.”
Family.
That’s right.
Khloe and Jacqueline are Jeremy’s family now, and just like that my safety net is gone, because if Jeremy is quitting, I can’t leave with him and drive back to Oak Dale. I’d have no way of getting back here on Monday. Max would be an option if Max had a car, but Jeremy says he’s been catching a ride with another guy. He isn’t sure on the details and he doesn’t even have Max’s current number and I feel like I’m on the brink of tears, but I can’t cry in front of Jeremy. I can’t cry and ruin his moment more than I probably already have.
“Hey, why don’t I just drive you back here on Monday?” Jeremy offers, but I shake my head.
“No, that’s silly. You’ve got a lot to do with…everything, and I don’t mind staying here. I just need to grab my stuff out of your truck.”
He frowns. “Where are you going to sleep? You can have my bunk now.”
I could, but I’d rather not have to sleep in the bunkhouse and use the communal shower without Jeremy there to stand guard.
I guess it’s probably time to head back to Rose Cabin.
* * *
The camp is a ghost town. Everyone’s left. The cars that were parked beside Jeremy’s drove away soon after he did. Now it’s just me…me and a deer munching on some grass a couple yards away. I try to get it to come closer, but it gets spooked and flees. So yeah, it’s just me. I didn’t really think my plan through. I’m not even sure we’re allowed to stay at the camp on the weekends, though if no one is here, who’s going to report me?
I haul my stuff back through camp and out to Rose Cabin. It reminds me of the first day I arrived, quiet and secluded. The door creaks and I glance down at Ethan’s bunk, still perfectly made from when I tidied up the cabin earlier this morning. He didn’t take all of his things with him. There’s a baseball cap on the dresser and some clothes still in the drawers. I unpack my duffle bag—for good this time—and then try to call my mom. Three attempts and no successes have me ready to throw my phone clear across the forest. I curse phone carriers and their lack of forethought in putting cell towers out here in the middle of nowhere.
Then when that doesn’t soothe my anger enough, I storm out of the cabin, haul butt down the stairs, and let out a soul-on-fire, life-cannot-be-this-unfair scream. Birds shoot up out of the surrounding trees, apparently terrified of me. I would be too.
There’s such a thing as too much crap.
One person can only handle so much. I have a breaking point, and apparently, I’ve reached it.
That first scream felt so good, I release another.
There.
That’s for our car falling to pieces and the zero dollars in my bank account and the bleak state of my future job prospects if things go south with Lockwood Construction. That’s for the loser guys I’ve dated and the loser man who cared enough to get my mom pregnant but not enough to stick around. That’s for Mr. Harris and his leering stares at the motel. That’s for Jeremy leaving. That’s for Ethan being in that bar the night I was at my most desperate. That’s for me choosing him over
every other man. That’s for the fact that I wish I could hate him as much as he hates me.
I pull in oxygen like I’ve been held under water for hours. My lungs swell and then empty while my heart pounds against my ribs.
I feel better.
Those screams were good for my soul.
I look down at my phone in my hand and don’t even bother. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I have things to do. I’m going to turn this cabin into a home, and I’m going to start by picking wildflowers. There are a million around me, more than I’ve ever seen. I go for the big fat yellow ones and pluck up as many as I can hold in one hand, then I start in on some tiny white ones that look like miniature daisies. There’s a bucket in the mess hall I fill with water and carry back to the cabin. Once it’s overflowing with flowers, I plop it down in the center of the desk.
I arrange my toiletries in the bathroom, claiming half the counter space on the sink and making it perfectly obvious that I’ve returned and belong here. I might as well have drawn a lipstick heart on the mirror.
My bed is made with clean linens and looks so inviting, and because I have nothing better to do and haven’t had a decent night of sleep in what feels like years, I climb up onto that bunk, close my eyes, and am dead to the world in a matter of moments.
I sleep hard and wake up so early Saturday morning, it’s still dark outside. All the troubles I ran from last night come rushing right back, so I have no choice but to get moving in the hopes that they can’t keep up. I turn on the lantern, make my bed, shower, and head toward the mess hall. From helping out around mealtime, I know how to find what I’m looking for. There’s some cereal and milk and I pour myself a small bowl, feeling guilty for taking any at all. Surely they won’t mind, right?
I eat it outside while the sun starts to rise.
Then, I try to call home once more, and it connects and starts ringing! But then, no one answers, and hope slips right through my fingers. How dare they sleep at a time like this?! So what if it’s ungodly early?!
