I gaped after the vehicle, my heart in my throat as I silently wished him to stop, to turn around and return to me but he had already vanished around another curve, leaving me alone with an overwhelming sense of loss and relief simultaneously.
My dream came flooding back to me.
He wasn’t Sir but something told me he could be just as dangerous.
I had to keep going.
Even if it killed me.
Because home had a fate worse than death awaiting.
3
Harding
The bite in the air never quite left from the previous night although, at work, it didn’t affect me in the least.
My job as a roughneck had me running around, ensuring the health and safety of all decks.
It could be grueling and exhausting but it had almost become second nature to me after two years.
I was lost in my own thoughts as always, my mind on the renovation and some of the things I needed.
At noon, I took my lunch in my truck as I always did, making a list of supplies I would need.
Most of the crew remained on the rig but I preferred the solitude of my truck, even though I wasn’t a smoker like some of the others.
I’ll stop on the way home, I decided. Hit the hardware store and get working on the extension this evening. I must set up the framework, put up the sheetrock and the insulation.
I was off on Sunday so I could get a head start but I wanted to put in whatever I could that night also.
If the temperature was any indication of what was coming, I didn’t have the luxury of time.
A knock on the driver’s side window caused me to look up at rig manager, Jeff Morley.
I rolled down the window and peered at him speculatively, one hand reaching to turn down the radio as I did.
Keith Urban’s voice faded out as I stared at Jeff inquisitively.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I was just wondering if you want to work tomorrow. Charles’ wife just went into labor. He’s having twins.”
Always a source of too much information, Jeff Morley was.
What the fuck did I care why Greg Charles wasn’t coming into work on Sunday?
I shook my head, even though my mind was yelling at me to say yes. Sundays were double pay, after all, but I knew I couldn’t afford to leave the house a minute longer.
“I wish I could,” I replied truthfully. “But I have something I need to deal with.”
Morley snorted outright.
“Yeah, right, Jackson. Like what? A hot date?”
I felt my temper flare but I maintained the stoic expression on my face as I stared at him.
A coldness emanated from my eyes as I stared at him and he physically stepped back as if I had pushed him.
“Something like that,” I replied flatly.
He lost the smirk on his face and shook his head.
“All right,” he grunted. “Just thought I would ask you before I asked the others. I know how much you love your overtime.”
“I appreciate you thinking of me,” I answered lightly.
And fuck you, Morley.
The manager spun and left me to my list but suddenly I was annoyed.
It was no secret that the crew found me odd but I didn’t care about that. I had been working as a roughneck for two years, in line for a promotion to motor hand any day. I knew my job and did it well, no fuss, no complaints.
All day long I heard men pissing and moaning about their wives, their kids, their girlfriends, their cars. They even bitched about their jobs in front of Jeff.
Nothing was ever good enough for any of them and frankly, I had nothing of any value to contribute to their “conversations.” I kept my head down and did my work, trying to block out their negativity and get through my shift.
They thought me standoffish, a redneck mountain man without a brain.
No one knew me, not even the men from Cedar City.
I had lived in Iron County probably longer than any of them but they didn’t know who I was and I preferred it that way.
I wasn’t looking for friends. I had my dogs and even when Rufus was howling his bag off, he still wasn’t as obnoxious as Jeff Morley on a good day.
But I was irritated that they made assumptions about me, about how I lived and what I did with my spare time.
Just because I didn’t go to Wendy Lou’s Bar after shift and pick up one of the half dozen “oil babies” who seemed to live in the tavern, hoping for one of the crewmen to buy her a drink and fuck her until she forgot where she was.
I liked a beer as much as the next man, truth be told but I could do without the boisterous fights, the testosterone bubbling over the roof.
And the meaningless conversations.
I would sooner go home with a six-pack of Bud and sit around the fire with Rufus and Clayton or work on my house.
Shit, sometimes I even grabbed a twelve and fell asleep in the bed of my truck staring up at the stars.
After all, I had everything I ever needed in my remote part of the mountain. There was nothing those men or anyone else could provide that would make my life more fulfilled.
I have everything I need, I thought again, watching Morley disappear toward the rig as I finished my coffee and sandwich. What the fuck does he know about my life?
Maybe that was the problem; no one knew anything about my life.
I had deliberately kept everyone at bay but what if something were to happen to me if I were to drop dead one day working on the roof? Would anyone know where to find my body?
The fatalistic thought made me raise my own eyebrow in surprise.
The lack of sleep had certainly affected my mood.
As I tossed the silver thermos onto the passenger seat, I pulled my keys from the ignition and hopped out of the high cab, slamming the door behind me.
I noticed a group of drillers eyeing me as I ambled back toward the site and I got that familiar feeling that they were talking about me as I wandered by.
Honestly, it didn’t bother me in the least; I expected nothing less from men like them.
When I had first started on the crew, they had gone out of their way to make my life miserable, something which Jeff Morley explained was a “hazing” ritual.
“Everyone goes through it, Jackson,” he growled, exasperated when the third man had been sent home with a broken nose. “No need to take it so personally.”
It was hard not to take damage to my truck, locker, and property “personal.”
When it became obvious that I was not beyond defending myself and my belongings, they eventually left me alone, only to gossip like a bunch of teenaged girls behind my back.
Suited me better than fine; I had no use for friendships like that.
Every so often, one of the men would try some dumb shit with me and I would react the same way, putting a fist through their cheekbones.
Lately, they seem to have mellowed though, leaving me in peace the way I preferred.
All except Aaron Jessup.
“Hey Harding!” the man chirped. “All finished your lunch?”
I glanced at the pleasant-faced boy and nodded.
Boy was an unfair assessment as Aaron was probably twenty-three but he acted much younger.
Like me, he was a roughneck and despite the years between us, I liked the kid for his work ethic.
I didn’t much care for the way he followed me around like a puppy dog but compared to the other assholes in the crew, he was a breath of fresh air.
“I’m going to work tomorrow for Greg. His wife just had twins,” Aaron volunteered and I stifled a sigh along with the urge to say, “Who the fuck cares?”
Instead, I nodded again, picking up my stride and hoping to leave the boy in my wake.
But that was not apt to happen.
“What are you doing this weekend? Want to grab a drink with me after work tomorrow?”
“Can’t. Working on the house,” I replied and I cringed at my reply. Why had I offered that part? There was no need for Jessup to know my weekend plans.
“Are you still doing renovations?” he asked, his voice rising in surprise. “What are you working on now?”
I didn’t want to tell him anything but it was my own fault for bringing it up.
“The second floor,” I answered begrudgingly.
“You need some help?” he asked and I shook my head.
“No.”
I hurried away before he could say anything else, disappearing into the locker room to lock up my keys and wallet before heading back on deck.
I had done my speaking quota for the day.
I hoped the rest of the afternoon would go by quietly.
My day ended at three o’clock and I went directly from work into Cedar City for supplies.
I was looking forward to returning home.
Somehow, I felt like the day had been longer than others even though the hours were the same as any other workday.
It just seemed that talking to people drained me and I had been forced into more conversation than usual that Saturday.
Even on the way out, Aaron had managed to corner me and offer his help yet again.
For a fleeting second, I had considered accepting it.
Another set of hands might move things along after all and the kid wasn’t so bad.
Immediately, I wondered what the hell I was thinking.
The kid would drive me crazy if I accepted his help. He would talk my ear off and I would end up snapping at him, even though it wouldn’t be his fault. It was a recipe for disaster.
And, I didn’t want anyone in my haven.
The cabin was for me and the dogs, no one else.
“Harding!”
I couldn’t stuff back the groan as I heard my name and I looked up as Old Man Cane shuffled along the side of the counter at Able Cane’s Hardware.
“Hey, Cane,” I offered, turning toward the shelves, hoping he would leave me alone to find what I wanted.