“You don’t even fucking know me!” he shouted.
Stepping back, I gave him just enough space to breathe. “Then let me in, man. I can’t do this on my own.”
I hoped he would say something—anything to show me I was making progress, but he just stood there, staring off in the distance as if I didn’t exist.
Sighing, I knew we weren’t going to move mountains tonight. For now, I just needed to get him home. “Come on. I need some shut-eye before work tomorrow. And you have school.”
“I fucking hate school.”
“No one likes school, kid. Only the nerds.”
Sighing, he grudgingly followed me, but his eyes kept flicking over to where Wyatt stood by the truck.
“Hold up. I need to find out what’s wrong with the truck.”
Like I suspected, he followed.
“Any idea what’s wrong with it?” I asked Wyatt as he bent over the engine, examining it. I knew a little about vehicles, but not enough to figure out what the hell was wrong.
“Yeah, it’s a piece of shit. You should have retired it a long fucking time ago,” Wyatt grumbled.
“It was making a clanking noise,” Wes said, drawing Wyatt’s attention.
“Doesn’t sound too good,” Wyatt sighed. “I’ll have to get her up on the lift and take a closer look. Can’t see jack shit out here tonight.”
“Wes, go check on Blake,” I ordered, not bothering to look at the kid.
“But—”
“Go.”
Sighing, he walked away, and when he was out of earshot, I went to work. “I need a favor.”
“Not interested.”
Wyatt put up a good front, but he was nothing like his old man. Bailey only had good things to say about him, and that was enough for me. Liam had excellent taste in women, and if she trusted Wyatt enough to work for him, there had to be some redeeming quality to him.
“That kid is interested in cars.”
“And?”
“And I want you to put him to work.”
A slight grin pulled at his lips, but it wasn’t because he was happy. “What the fuck makes you think I give a shit if that kid likes cars?”
“You don’t, but this kid needs some guidance. He’s all over the place, but he seems to be interested in what it takes to fix this. All I’m asking is that you make him work to fix the damn thing.”
“That sounds more beneficial for you than for me,” he answered. “Like I said, not interested.”
He slammed the hood on the truck and started to walk away.
“What will it take?”
His footsteps faltered slightly before he turned back to me. “Give the old man his land back.”
“I can’t do that. It’s not mine to give.”
“You can talk to your Pop,” he snapped.
