Caveman (Wild Men 1)

Goddammit, yeah, of course this is much worse. Something’s wrong with me. Why did I tell her to come to my house? Why did I come out to tell Ross to shut up in the first place? Why did I follow them into Jasper’s office?

Why do I keep noticing her, why am I so aware, so protective of her? She’s none of my business. She can’t ever be.

But her wide eyes keep flashing in front of me, full of questions. Shocked. Afraid.

So damn pretty they won’t let me focus on the task at hand. My hand slips in engine oil, and I slam my head into the underbelly of the car because I try to sit up while still wedged underneath it all when my cell dings with a message.

So fucking distracted.

It’s just a line from Dolly the neighbor looking after my kids, reminding me that I need to pick them up earlier today. Something about a bachelorette party. Or a birthday? As if I give a fuck.

This is why I came here, to this town. To escape humanity. To avoid people and the impact of their miserable little lives on mine. I should have gone for a cabin in the woods, but that wouldn’t work with the kids.

My kids mean the fucking world to me. Although the world has lost its shine, they’re part of me.

And part of her, of Emma, so even as the reminder hurts, I’d never give up on them. I only hope they won’t give up on me.

Over the next hours, I have plenty of time to consider my idiocy—for instance as I ask Evan if I can take off earlier to pick up my kids, and he glances nervously at the office.

Evan runs the shop in all but name, especially when Jasper isn’t around, and he isn’t around much, unlike his dick of a son.

I hate to put Evan in a spot. He’s is the closest to a friend I’ve made in this godforsaken town. He doesn’t annoy me, mostly because he’s so quiet. And he doesn’t seem annoyed by my usual silence and dark moods.

Yet he hesitates. “Old man ain’t too happy about you right now, buddy. What he wants is to make your life harder, not easier, at least for a while, until his anger cools. He’ll have my balls if I even hint at giving you preferential treatment.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Look, man, I get it. But I need to go.”

He sighs. Glances again at the office. “Your kids. That’s important, I know. Can’t you tell your nanny to, I dunno, keep them busy half an hour longer?”

I scowl at the stains on the floor and say nothing.

“Look,” he tries again, “I heard what happened in there. Hell, I saw how Ross grabbed her arm, how he has always treated her. You did the right thing. But the boss is pissed today, okay?”

I shake my head. “I’m going.”

Another sigh, more heartfelt this time. “You need this job, don’t you? It’s good pay. Christ, Matt.” He paces in front of me, two paces in one direction, two in the other. He stops. “I’m gonna regret saying this, but yeah, okay. Go.” He waves a hand at me, shooing me away. “I’ll cover for you.”

Shocked, I just stare at him. Can’t remember these sorts of small kindnesses, although I’m sure I’ve experienced them in my life. I’ve been sitting in the dark for so long, the memories have sunk deep, like stones, all the way to the bottom of my mind, and are gone.

“Go before I change my mind,” he says darkly, and this time I don’t have to be told twice.

With a nod of thanks, I turn about and go.

Cole is having a hissy fit, writhing on the floor and screaming his lungs out—and I don’t even get what the hell is the matter with him.

“It’s just the terrible twos,” Dolly says consolingly, and I step back before she pats my arm, because fuck no. “You know how it is.”

Not really. “He’s three. When will it stop?”

She shakes her head.

Right.

“Why is he crying now?” He keeps wailing and thrashing on the floor. An attempt to pick him up earns me a kick in the stomach, but I hold on to him, determined not to let go.

“He hasn’t had his nap.”

“Why not?”