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Bryn waves her hand dismissively as she slings her duffle over her shoulder. “Meh, she can try…” She smiles like the cat that ate the canary and continues, “But I’m sure you’ve already got him.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
MADDEN
“The fuck, Mad. You’re gonna destroy the sheetrock before we even get the fuckin’ wall built.” Maverick laughs, but he’s right. I’m not an aggressive guy, but after another sleepless night and being exhausted, I’m a grumpy asshole. Too much weight on my shoulders pulling my smile into a frown.
And that statement makes me sound like fuckin’ pussy.
Belle had another night terror last night, and even understanding the source of her fears, I feel helpless. The night terror last night was different, as it wasn’t Casey who Belle was crying for. It was me. Daddy, don’t leave me, she cried out, over and over again as she clung to me for dear life. How do I take this fear from her? I need to spend more time with her, but I can’t afford to work less.
I can cut back on my workouts, and that’s really the only room in my day to day that I can work with. I’ll have to talk to Jo on Monday when I go in for training. Maybe she can suggest ways for me to get workouts in while spending time with Belle. I spend thirty minutes of every training session on the treadmill or elliptical, so maybe I need to start cardio at the beach.
“Hey, fucker. Nail gun broke?” Maverick breaks my concentration, and I turn to look at him, confused.
“What?”
“You in your head again, Mad? I asked if the nail gun is broke?” He nods toward the hammer in my hand.
“I think he wants to show off his muscles.” Fifty laughs at his own joke, which ain’t funny in the least.
“Whatever. Just trying to get this wall up. Does it matter what tool I use as long as I get the job done? Besides, who the hell’s the boss here?”
“Actually, I am, asshole.” Maverick points at me with a pencil, measuring a two-by-four. He’s right, but I won’t tell him that shit. Since Dad’s death, managing Davenport Construction has been a huge undertaking, but I’ve been pacing myself to figure out all elements of the business. I refuse to let my dad’s company fail, so having Carter and Maverick manage projects while I oversee operations is the best solution.
“Sorry, guys.” I sling the hammer in the toolbox. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.” I head out the front door and make my way to my truck, my hands laced together overhead. Sudden panic attack clutching my chest.
“Wait up,” Maverick calls from behind. “You good?”
I nod, inhaling deep. Maverick drops the tailgate on the truck and parks his ass, watching me pace and breathe. When the restriction dissipates and my breathing is calm, I grab two bottles of water from the cooler in the bed of truck, offering one to Maverick before downing the contents of my own.
“Got shit weighin’ on ya, man. Ain’t good for you to be on site when your head’s loose. You of all people should know this.”
I scrub my hand over my face. I don’t need to hear a damn lecture from Maverick or anyon
e else. I’m here to do a job just like he is. “Your site. I get it, man. Just trying to offer a hand until I feel that you’re ready to manage a project on your own.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Maverick deadpans, pulling back a drink of water. “Your headspace, that ain’t got shit to do with my performance of managing a project. You wanna micromanage, go for it. You’re only wasting your time and mine too because you’re getting under my crew’s feet. I can deal with it, no matter how fuckin’ annoyin’ it may be, but what’s more of a concern to me is what has you so preoccupied. You need a break from all the shit cloudin’ you.”
My inward groan escapes on its own volition. “I’m good, Mav. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
He nods, accepting my dismissal of his opinion. It’s a nice fall day, the temps finally ebbing into comfort. The perfect day to be at the beach. I look down at my watch. “You good here for the day?”
“Fuckin’ finally. Take off. Gotta trust me, Mad. I ain’t gonna fuck shit up.”
“I do trust you or I wouldn’t have considered making you project manager, Mav. Call if something comes up.”
“Yeah, probably won’t, but if it makes you feel any better, just imagine I will. What’cha gonna get into?”
“Head to the beach. Maybe go for a jog.”
“Damn. Proud of ya, man. Lookin’ good. Almost as sexy as me.” Maverick smirks and grips his chin, mock-posing like a damn GQ model. And he sure as fuck could be one, but I’d never tell the fucker that. Instead, I nod.
“Tomorrow night, Skybox? Drinks are on me if you’ll drink anything other than a damn light beer.” Mav jumps down from the back of the truck and folds the tailgate.
I chuckle and head to the driver’s side. “See ya there, asshat.”
After stopping by at home to change into running clothes, I head to the beach and hit the ground runnin’, “Numb” by Linkin Park blastin’ through my earbuds. But no matter how loud the music is or how hard I pound the ground, the thoughts never seem to cease.
