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Parrish’s brows pulled together like he hadn’t expected that. Still, his scowl kept his lips in a firm line. Parrish was… Jesus, he was sexy, and I hated thinking that about him. If I didn’t hate him and his whole family, I’d want to fuck him. But I did hate him, and I didn’t have time in my life for shit like that. Outside of Grandma, I wanted no ties to this town.
“And Bec?” he asked.
“Becca made her choice a long time ago. As far as I’m concerned, he can have her. I don’t want shit to do with any of you.”
Parrish opened his mouth to reply, but the bell jingled again and a guy walked in. “I’m telling you, P. You better not go too hard on my ass today. I might have had too much to drink last night.”
“Fuck, Smitty. Again? You need to take this shit seriously.”
“I’m here, ain’t I?”
“Idiot,” Parrish grumbled, which made me frown. I sure as shit couldn’t remember him or Rex complaining if someone drank too much the night before. Hell, they would have been there right along with them. Frank Hunt started getting us all drunk when we were ten years old.
“Who are you?” the guy asked me.
“Riven,” I said, not offering him any more information.
“New guy,” Parrish said. “He’ll be with me, you, and Wayne.”
“Hey, bro. Not gonna be the best company today, but nice to have you.”
I just nodded at him. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to work.
*
There was a new subdivision going in, and that’s where we spent our day. It was strange to see them try to build up Fulton, which was right outside Clayton. They didn’t have new subdivisions before I’d gone inside. People rarely moved in. Why the hell would they want to? The place didn’t have much to offer.
But according to Parrish, we’d be there for the next few months, working house to house. He hadn’t spoken directly to me all day, and I’d done the same. Wayne was a really talkative guy, and I liked him all right, but I just didn’t want to connect with anyone. I didn’t figure any good could come of it, and I just…fuck, I didn’t know if I even knew how to be friends with anyone anymore. Relationships in prison were strange, and except for Grandma, no one had come to see me when I was inside. Wayne likely thought I was a dick, and honestly, I was, but for whatever reason, he’d kept trying.
“Good work out there today, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Parrish told us after driving the work truck back to the shop where we’d left our vehicles.
“Hey, Riven. You wanna go grab a beer?” Wayne asked, and fuck, he was nice, I could tell, but I didn’t know how to be around nice guys. I hadn’t had many of them in my life.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
I accidentally caught Parrish’s eye and saw him frown. Did he think I couldn’t say no to hitting the bar, or what? My ass didn’t plan to step foot in another bar around here, and definitely not after what happened. I’d be sure to run into Bill, Frank, or Rex.
“Boss? How about you?” Wayne said to Parrish. He’d been calling Parrish that all day, which was strange.
“I’m good. Thanks, Wayne.”
I leaned against my truck, waiting for Wayne and Smitty to leave, wishing like hell I didn’t need to ask Parrish to sign my PO’s form. Parrish had talked to Harold earlier in the day, and I’d heard my name, so I was sure he knew what I needed him to do for me.
When the other guys were gone, I grabbed my paper and a pen from my truck and headed to him. Not all the POs did this, but Tom seemed to be pretty hands-on, which I figured a lot of the guys needed, but I didn’t.
“I need you to sign this.” I shoved the paper at Parrish. What were the odds? I went to prison for his brother, and now he had to sign off for my PO that I went to work every damn day.
“Say please.” Parrish didn’t move to sign it.
My whole body tensed up, anger setting my insides on fire. “Sign the paper, Parrish.”
He sighed but did it, then shoved it back into my hands.
This was so fucked up.
Without another word, I got in my truck and drove away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Parrish
I was surprised when Riven showed up for work on time the next day, and then the one following that too. He kept to himself, didn’t talk unless someone spoke to him or he had to because of the job. He kept his head down and stayed busy. I was still trying to fit this piece of him in with whom I’d known Riven to be my whole life. He’d moved to Clayton to live with his grandma when he’d been about five and I was three. He and Rex had become friends in first or second grade, so there wasn’t a time in my life that I remembered not knowing him.
