“Shut up.” A sick feeling rolls inside me, twisting my stomach. Ice slithers up my spine. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Or what? What will you do, huh? It’s only the truth. Who do you think your daddy is?”
Jasper isn’t telling his son to shut up. He doesn’t look surprised by what Ross said, either. He is observing me, as if looking for something. God knows what.
Then he snorts as if he’s failed to find it, and that pleased him.
I can’t stay here a second longer. The spell is thankfully broken, and I might puke if I stay a second longer.
But as I step back, Ross grabs my arm in a hold of steel. “We’re not done talking.”
“Yes, you are.” The low, gravelly voice from behind me makes me jump a mile in the air.
I spin around, grateful for anyone coming to my rescue, and as I do, I already know who it belongs to.
Matt is back, his shoulders filling the narrow doorframe, his gaze hot with something that looks like fury.
“What the fuck?” Ross hisses, his hand clamping harder around my arm, forcing a whimper through my lips. “Are you that stupid?”
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Matt says, his voice so low it’s like the distant roll of thunder. “Back off, now.”
He doesn’t wait for Ross to obey, instead getting into his face and pushing him until my arm is released.
I stumble backward, rubbing at my bruised flesh, my heart hammering.
“What do you care, boy?” Jasper drawls, a flicker of interest passing over his wrinkled, leathery face, although he doesn’t make a single move to help his offspring.
Matt glares at Ross who looks ready to jump and pummel him to the ground before he grinds out, “She works for me.”
Chapter Seven
Matt
What the fuck am I doing?
What in the fucking hell am I doing?
And it gets worse, because as I stalk out of Jasper’s office and into the car bay, certain I’ve lost my job due to my unbelievable stupidity, she follows me.
“Thanks,” she says quietly. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. About me working for you. But I’m grateful—”
“Be at my house at eight AM,” I say and march off to finish fixing the Toyota I’d been in the middle of repairing when I saw them enter the office.
If Jasper doesn’t kick me out today.
Goddammit, yeah, of course this is much worse. Something’s wrong with me. Why did I tell her to come to my house? Why did I come out to tell Ross to shut up in the first place? Why did I follow them into Jasper’s office?
Why do I keep noticing her, why am I so aware, so protective of her? She’s none of my business. She can’t ever be.
But her wide eyes keep flashing in front of me, full of questions. Shocked. Afraid.
So damn pretty they won’t let me focus on the task at hand. My hand slips in engine oil, and I slam my head into the underbelly of the car because I try to sit up while still wedged underneath it all when my cell dings with a message.
So fucking distracted.
It’s just a line from Dolly the neighbor looking after my kids, reminding me that I need to pick them up earlier today. Something about a bachelorette party. Or a birthday? As if I give a fuck.
This is why I came here, to this town. To escape humanity. To avoid people and the impact of their miserable little lives on mine. I should have gone for a cabin in the woods, but that wouldn’t work with the kids.
My kids mean the fucking world to me. Although the world has lost its shine, they’re part of me.
And part of her, of Emma, so even as the reminder hurts, I’d never give up on them. I only hope they won’t give up on me.
Over the next hours, I have plenty of time to consider my idiocy—for instance as I ask Evan if I can take off earlier to pick up my kids, and he glances nervously at the office.
Evan runs the shop in all but name, especially when Jasper isn’t around, and he isn’t around much, unlike his dick of a son.
I hate to put Evan in a spot. He’s is the closest to a friend I’ve made in this godforsaken town. He doesn’t annoy me, mostly because he’s so quiet. And he doesn’t seem annoyed by my usual silence and dark moods.
Yet he hesitates. “Old man ain’t too happy about you right now, buddy. What he wants is to make your life harder, not easier, at least for a while, until his anger cools. He’ll have my balls if I even hint at giving you preferential treatment.”
I shove my hands in my pockets. “Look, man, I get it. But I need to go.”
He sighs. Glances again at the office. “Your kids. That’s important, I know. Can’t you tell your nanny to, I dunno, keep them busy half an hour longer?”
I scowl at the stains on the floor and say nothing.
“Look,” he tries again, “I heard what happened in there. Hell, I saw how Ross grabbed her arm, how he has always treated her. You did the right thing. But the boss is pissed today, okay?”
I shake my head. “I’m going.”
Another sigh, more heartfelt this time. “You need this job, don’t you? It’s good pay. Christ, Matt.” He paces in front of me, two paces in one direction, two in the other. He stops. “I’m gonna regret saying this, but yeah, okay. Go.” He waves a hand at me, shooing me away. “I’ll cover for you.”
Shocked, I just stare at him. Can’t remember these sorts of small kindnesses, although I’m sure I’ve experienced them in my life. I’ve been sitting in the dark for so long, the memories have sunk deep, like stones, all the way to the bottom of my mind, and are gone.
“Go before I change my mind,” he says darkly, and this time I don’t have to be told twice.
With a nod of thanks, I turn about and go.
Cole is having a hissy fit, writhing on the floor and screaming his lungs out—and I don’t even get what the hell is the matter with him.
“It’s just the terrible twos,” Dolly says consolingly, and I step back before she pats my arm, because fuck no. “You know how it is.”
Not really. “He’s three. When will it stop?”
She shakes her head.
Right.
“Why is he crying now?” He keeps wailing and thrashing on the floor. An attempt to pick him up earns me a kick in the stomach, but I hold on to him, determined not to let go.
“He hasn’t had his nap.”
“Why not?”
“He was crying. Wanted his mommy.”
Hell. I suck in a breath and it sticks in my throat. “Where’s Mary?”
I want to grab both my kids and get the fuck out of here right now, before my brain starts properly processing what Dolly said about why Cole was crying.
The same reason why Mary has bad dreams, and why I can’t sleep at night.
We find my daughter in the next room, a messy kitchen. She’s under the table, sucking on her thumb, rocking back and forth, tear tracks on her cheeks.
“What the hell happened?” I grind out, a hammer pounding inside my temples, as I try to ignore the stab of fear in my chest.