“Get it figured out?” he asked. “Has he even been writing?”
No idea. I disconnected our sharing capabilities, so I had no idea if he’d written a single word, but I had a strong hunch he’d abandoned the series and wouldn’t write another book. Ever. “I’m sure he has. I’ll let you know, Mark.”
“When are you going—”
I hung up.
I grabbed my paperwork then took the golf cart to his warehouse. As far as I knew, his rocket program had been put on hold indefinitely, and he had his teams working on other things instead. It had been a test launch, so he shouldn’t take the failure so seriously, but he wasn’t my problem anymore, and I wasn’t going to try to change his mind. I just did my job then went home. This job no longer gave me personal satisfaction, so I couldn’t care less.
Derek Hamilton could go fuck himself.
I stepped into the warehouse and closed the door behind me.
The guys immediately looked up, like they hoped it was lunchtime, but it was too early for that. Jerome and Pierre both said hi to me then got back to work.
I walked to where Derek stood at his workbench, but instead of looking down and being focused on his work, he just stared at me instead. Even when I was thirty feet across the room and nowhere near him, he stared.
Lately, he could barely look at me when I was just a few inches away.
My heels tapped against the floor as I came closer, waiting for him to look down, waiting for him to silently dismiss me.
But he didn’t.
He was rigid and still, staring at me with wide and unblinking eyes, an intense expression that was indecipherable.
I stopped at the desk across from him and opened the folder. “We’ve gotten a lot of submissions for the internship program.” I picked up the papers, which were bundled together in different sections. “The ones on the top are the people I think are most qualified. The second are people who have great grades and a little bit of work experience. And the last pile is people who performed the worst academically, but they had very interesting letters. I wanted to leave them here if you’d like to give feedback. But if you just want me to handle it, that’s fine.” I had to interview these people and made sure they had the right personalities to work with the engineers here. Nothing would be worse than having an intern with a bad attitude who made the engineers irritated forty hours a week.
Derek didn’t say a word. His hands rested on the surface of the desk, his device and drawings in front of him, but he ignored them and gave me all his attention. His brown eyes watched me carefully, like he was looking at a TV screen instead of my face. Still, quiet, rigid, he was like a statue.
It was odd. Really odd. “Derek?”
As if he didn’t hear his name, he continued to stare.
Jerome and Pierre turned to look at us, probably expecting Derek to give another asshole outburst.
But Derek didn’t speak. His gaze wasn’t hostile, but he didn’t respond to any attempt I made to speak to him.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I just ignored it. “I’ll leave them here. Let me know.” I turned around and walked off, feeling his gaze drilling into my back, burning me from the rear, even when I was out of the warehouse and in the golf cart.
I sat in the stands with my mom, watching Lizzie play on the field.
Deacon had given her a black softball mitt—and she continued to use it. She was mature enough to still have affection for Derek’s parents even when Derek turned out to be a huge disappointment.
I was proud of her for that.
“What are we going to do about Lizzie’s grades?” Mom ate her popcorn from a cup, watching Lizzie at first base.
“I don’t know.” I’d tried to set her up with different tutors, but she said it didn’t help at all.
“She’s going to be in high school soon. Maybe you should hire someone from one of those private companies.”
“I know, but it’s so expensive. They’re like a hundred dollars an hour.”
“I can get a part-time job or something.”
“Mom, it’s okay.” My parents had done enough for me, and Lizzie was my responsibility. I would figure it out.
She continued to eat her popcorn for a while, cheering when Lizzie snatched the ball and got the hitter out in one swift movement. “You seem to be doing better.”
I kept my eyes on the field. “Yeah…a bit.”
She moved her hand to my arm and gave me a gentle rub. “Broken bones heal faster than a broken heart. You’ve just got to be patient.”
I was grateful that my mom didn’t say I told you so. She didn’t make me feel bad for being wrong, so painfully wrong. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not sure if I really have a broken heart anymore. I don’t miss Derek. I just…kinda hate him at this point. It was a stupid mistake, and I wish I could take it all back.”