Caveman (Wild Men 1)

A mistake.

But life goes on, like before, and it’s up to me to change it around.

Chapter Three

Matt

Once I’ve managed to locate and pull on a marginally clean shirt, once I’ve put on shoes and raked a hand through my wild hair, I grab the kids and go leave them with a neighbor for the day.

Not the one across the street who’s turned out to be a chain-smoking granny, about a thousand years old, lost in a web of wrinkles and attitude. No, a young mom of three, five houses down, who looks hurried and overwhelmed in a flowery dress and a scarf wrapped around her head.

I pay her a big wad of dollars to keep an eye over the little brats while I work. It’s the fifth day in a row, and it feels wrong.

And expensive for my limited funds.

Cole clings to my leg as I turn toward the door to go. Guilt stabs sharp teeth into my soul. I shove it deep and ignore it, detaching my son from my leg and setting him aside.

Mary watches me from a few feet away, accusation in her eyes, her small mouth tight.

Hell.

“It’s okay, Mr. Hansen. I’ve got them,” the woman says. Her name is Sally, or Dolly, or something equally unimportant to me.

I nod, a dark thread of worry winding its way through the tangled mess of my thoughts. “I’ll call at noon.”

As I walk to my truck, I think again how much cheaper hiring a nanny would be. Better for the kids, too. More… stable. God knows stability hasn’t been part of their lives so far.

Yeah, I know, I’m failing as a father.

Then again, what’s new? What the fuck ever. I just need a nanny to keep an eye on the kids while I’m away at work, but the two who applied for the position earlier this week didn’t even look at my kids when they entered the house. It was obvious they didn’t give a fuck.

Instant disqualification.

So okay, I’ll keep looking. There are bound to be more women looking for a job in this town. I’ll find another.

Just… not her.

Not Octavia.

She’s not suitable. Not acceptable. Not… I dunno. She’s way too young. And headstrong. Not what I had in mind.

So that’s that. End of story.

Jasper’s Garage is on the other side of the town, a ten-minute drive. I could have walked, but I’m late as it is. Not giving the best of impressions during my first week of work.

What do I care about impressions, though? As long as I keep the job, I don’t give a damn, and Jasper Jones won’t kick me out. Good mechanics are hard to come by in this neck of the woods, it seems, and the money he’s paying me is good.

Or… I could let him kick me out. I could walk away. Take the kids and keep moving, keep searching for salvation. But the scary thing is… I’m not sure I even fucking care anymore.

There’s a guy I don’t know smoking right outside the garage door. I stride inside and check the tasks of the day, then head over to the bays and locate the car I’m supposed to work on.

Jasper’s right hand, Evan, nods at me without a comment, and I get to work. I like the fact he’s a man of few words.

My words are few, too. Not many to start with, and they’ve dried away over the years.

Which is just as well.

I lose myself in my work. Rivets, chassis, rumbling engines. All this is so familiar it almost feels like home.