“You’re surprised? We are talking about Aidan Michaels, a man who shot his own wife.”
My eyes widened further. Jeb knew about Evelyn? Had she told him or had Frank?
“Are you going to pursue it?” I asked.
“I built this inn on a parcel that’s been in the family for generations. You can bet I’m going to fight for it.” His tone made me jump. “Michaels has taken enough from this family, don’t you think?”
I nodded. “I know Everest was probably killed by the Creeks, but do you think Aidan had a hand in it?”
“He owns a hotel on Creek territory. Is it so farfetched to think they owed him a favor, and he collected on it?”
No, it wasn’t. It absolutely wasn’t.
“Have you told Liam about your theory?” I asked, stretching my arms over my head and yawning.
“Yes. And he’s looking into it.”
I wondered if Liam had found out anything. Wouldn’t he have called a pack gathering if he had, though?
That night, I dreamed of Liam. But suddenly, Liam morphed into another man.
One who looked so much like him.
Heath.
I woke up with a scream that had Jeb crashing through my bedroom door.
“Sorry,” I rasped, trembling all over. “Just a nightmare.”
Jeb’s eyes, which had started glowing like his wolf’s, dimmed. “Got plenty of those myself.” He turned to go but paused. “Want to talk about it?”
I tucked my frigid hands under the pillow. “No.”
I hadn’t spoken about the night I’d posed as an escort to get access to Heath with anyone but Everest. I’d hoped that not speaking about it would somehow erase the memory, but it had simply repressed it.
“Wake me if you change your mind.”
I closed my eyes, willing the nightmare to vanish when the sheets rustled. Jeb pulled the comforter over my shoulders and tucked it around me. And then he placed a palm on the top of my head.
“I hope better dreams find you. You deserve better dreams. You deserve better everything.” His eyes shone like freshly buffed bone.
Once he left, I watched the wall that divided our bedrooms for a long time, finally understanding why my mother had listed him as the emergency contact on my school forms. She’d known that if I ever needed saving, he would come through for me.
I was supposed to start at the Watts’ the following day, but August texted me that it would be better if I began once his mother was released from the hospital. He’d have more time to show me the ropes.
So another day passed before I drove myself to my new job.
Jeb sat in the passenger seat. Where Sarah liked to tell me every little thing I could do better-she was annoying but thorough-he offered advice sparingly. Mostly he complimented my driving, which felt incredibly empowering, and then he told me Greg would come over that evening to give me an eye exam.
“Greg’s an ophthalmologist?” I asked, sliding to a stop in front of the Watts’ warehouse.
“No. But our eyes… our eyesight… it’s not quite the same as humans.”
My mouth rounded. And here I’d been ready to book an appointment with any old eye doctor. Good thing I hadn’t.
Jeb got out of the Boulder Inn van and walked around the bumper. I took off my seatbelt and hopped out. As he took the seat I’d just vacated, he said, “You know, I could give you an allowance.”
“And you know I would never accept it.”
“Just as stubborn as Maggie.”
Proud, not stubborn, although I would take any comparison to my mother.
“Call me when you’re done,” he said. “I’ll come pick you up.”
“Jeb?”
Although he clutched the handle, he didn’t swing the car door shut. “Yes?”
“I’m happy I forgot to collect my high school diploma.”
His forehead grooved, but then it smoothed, not entirely but a little; too much grief left indelible traces. “I’m happy you forgot too.”
We smiled at each other a moment, then he tipped his head to the warehouse. “Scram, kiddo. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”
I backed away from the van and strode toward the warehouse. The second I set foot inside, memories of the last trial came pouring down over me. It was as though the semi-circle of men glaring down at me, the girl who’d challenged their boy, was still here. I looked away from the sawdust-covered floor and scanned the brightly lit space with its aisles upon aisles of tall metal shelving and its enormous worktables upon which carpenters were measuring slabs of wood or sanding them down.
I felt like a kid again, visiting my father at work. August would pick me up from school, then, after a pitstop at the ice cream parlor, he’d drive me over here. I wondered if the ice cream was as good as I remembered.
“Ness.” A gravelly voice jerked my mind off the past.
August was standing by one of the aisles, an electronic tablet clutched beneath his arm. I walked over to him, garnering quite a few curious gazes from the employees.
“How’s your mother?” I asked, tucking strands of loose hair behind my ears.
“Already on her feet when she shouldn’t be.” There was a startling gruffness to his tone, as though he was angry with his mother. “Let’s get you set up in the office.” He strode toward the glass enclosure at the back of the building without uttering a single word to me.
Once we reached the deserted office, I hooked my bag to the peg by the door.
“Dad jotted down some adjustments a client of ours requested. I need you to pull up the quote we gave that client, check what we’re taking out, type in what we’re adding, then look through our list of suppliers, call them up, and find us the best and timeliest deals.” August handed me a stapled printout, turned on the office computer, and pulled up a file that listed all the amendments that were to be made.
I took my seat on the wheelie chair. “Do I factor in any commissions to the prices I obtain?”
“No. We charge a rate on the overall project.” He stared at the huge beige printer in the corner as though it had wronged him.
“Are you okay?”
His green eyes flashed to mine, then to the computer keypad. “Just tired,” he said before returning to the door. With an almost clinical detachment, he added, “Once you’re done updating the quote, email it to me. August@Watt. com.”