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He was ready for scoffing, because there was absolutely nothing around, but Michael put a hand to the ground and tilted his head. “I don’t feel anything malicious.” He paused. “But I’ll pay attention.”
Hunter kept his senses wide open now, laying stones as Michael directed, but focusing most of his attention on the road.
Michael glanced over. “Does this have something to do with the fight you didn’t have?”
Hunter didn’t look at him. “No.” He shrugged. “I’m just on edge.”
Another stone went on the wall. Michael wiped his forehead against his sleeve. “Does this have something to do with why you were ready to level the Home Depot?”
Hunter’s hands went still on the rock in front of him.
Michael didn’t say anything else, just laid another one without stopping. He flung the stones like they weighed nothing, and they slid into place perfectly. Hunter would have called him a perfectionist, but he’d bet Michael did it without thinking.
Another stone hit the wall, and Michael glanced over. “Think and work at the same time.”
Hunter grabbed a stone, letting a slow breath out. “I wasn’t going to level the Home Depot.”
“Maybe not intentionally.”
Hunter ran through the last twenty-four hours. Calla. School. Kate. His grandfather. Spending the night in his car.
Jesus, his throat felt tight again. He slammed the stone into place, feeling the impact all the way up to his shoulders.
Michael flung a stone next to his and remained silent.
And after a minute, Hunter realized he was going to stay that way. Michael wasn’t going to push. Hunter relaxed into the rhythm of the work again.
o;You look.” The man flung the stack of cash into the drawer. “Forgetting the fact that you’re underage, I’ve got guys coming in here with families to feed. You want me to turn them down because some kid wants money to take his girlfriend to the prom?”
Hunter glared at him. “I need a job.”
“Join the club.” Then the phone beside the register rang, and the man turned away to answer it.
Hunter stood there, feeling the air bite at his cheeks. The fluorescent lights in the warehouse ceiling seemed to be buzzing more loudly than normal, but maybe it was just his shot nerves.
At this rate, he’d have to drop some of his remaining cash on a bottle of Motrin.
Then he realized that the man had left the cash drawer open, and he was now facing away, flipping through a binder full of laminated pages.
Hunter stared at the cash. He’d watched the man count it—a big stack of twenties. There had to be several hundred dollars there.
The store wasn’t even that crowded. He could grab a twenty and run.
He’d never stolen anything in his life.
The lights buzzed more loudly. Hunter wanted to rub at his head, but he was afraid if he lifted a hand, it would grab the cash almost against his will.
“Hunter?”
He turned his head, feeling like he’d lost a minute of time.
Michael Merrick stood there, two rolls of something green hooked under one arm. A red shirt with the Merrick landscaping logo stretched across his chest, already sporting a fine layer of dust, and a stain near the hem. He had a couple inches on Hunter, but that might have just been the work boots on his feet. It was the first time Hunter had ever seen Michael clean shaven.
Hunter had no idea what Michael thought of him, but considering the way his younger brothers were treating him, it probably wasn’t good.
Then again, Michael wasn’t swinging a fist or openly mocking him, so maybe this was better.
Michael said, “Why aren’t you in school?”
