“Just wanted to let you know you’re doing a good job, son. Some of the guys were worried about the transition, but you and Trip are keeping things going.”
All Aiden could manage was a single nod of his head. His dad was likely never going to be in a position to see how his sons were running the family business, but praise from the longest-serving Murdoch employee was a strong second place to that paternal approval.
The older man fell silent, and Aiden’s neck tightened as he waited for whatever complaint or problem was about to roll his way. Instead, Fitz’s eyes searched his face for a long moment before he said gently, “I’ve got a granddaughter. Nice girl. You let me know when you’re ready to get back out there, yeah?”
The clearheaded bliss of destruction faded. “Thanks.” He managed a semblance of a grin. “That’s… Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
He sure as hell wasn’t ready to move on with someone else, but unexpected emotion clogged his throat at the realization that Fitz considered him a worthy potential partner for a family member. Fitz clapped him on the back with a beefy paw and headed back into the house, leaving Aiden to trudge down the driveway to his truck. Once he was safely shut away inside, he dropped his veneer of normalcy and let himself sag into the husk of depression and anger that he’d become. He’d thrown himself into work both to keep the company humming and to bury any inconvenient shock waves of pain from his wounded, limping heart, but he still dragged around most days like the broken idiot that he was.
His muscles exhausted, his heart sore, and his brain empty, he drove to Murdoch Construction on autopilot. He parked and headed into the building where a sour-faced temp greeted him when he walked past the lobby.
“Mrs. Park dropped this off for you.” She waved a paint-sample card covered in sticky notes.
“Thanks. And did—”
The stony-faced brunette held up an imperious finger to silence him when the phone rang. “Murdoch Construction,” she said snippily, and he didn’t have the heart to stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.
From the quiet of his office, he added details to the new software about Lin and Mary Park’s color choices for their master bedroom and imagined a world where the front desk was staffed by someone warm and welcoming and goofy and beautiful. Instead, they were on their second temp this month as the company rotated through the available workers, and he was going to bed alone.
This would be the perfect night to pick a woman up at a bar and get his head on straight. He could probably use a couple of nights like that, frankly, and a couple of women. But none of that appealed to him. Not the bar scene, not the empty sex, and certainly not random women. Just a few months ago, he’d worried that he’d backslide into his womanizing ways, but it turned out the cure to that was falling in love. All he wanted was Thea, who’d burst in with her noisy sunshine and shown him that his life could be bigger and more joyful than he ever imagined.
Thea, whom he hadn’t heard a word from.
“Shit.” The word sighed out of his lungs, and he slammed his laptop closed. What had he done with his time before Thea? Surely it had been something more fulfilling than listening to the clock in his office tick down the seconds of his interminable life.
He reached for his phone to text Daniel, but hitting the gym and working his body until he couldn’t move didn’t sound all that appealing, especially because his shoulder had been throbbing since the wall teardown that morning. Plus Daniel was likely to either gloat over his heartbreak or offer way too much sympathy, and neither option sounded particularly appealing.
For similar reasons, he rejected calling Trip and Ash to see if they wanted to grab dinner or seeing if he could swing by the Chilton house to keep Dave company on daddy duty. He’d be terrible company for anybody, so he might as well drag his sorry ass home the way he’d been doing all month.
Of course, nothing improved once he was parked on his couch with his feet on the coffee table. Instead, he glared around his living room, irrationally angry at the boring gray walls and copper light fixture. He’d done all the work himself, and he hated every part of it because it wasn’t Thea’s house. Maybe it was time to list this house and start looking for another one to flip. Anything—fuck,anything—to keep his hands busy and his brain occupied and his body too tired to long for Thea’s touch.
He hadn’t gotten any further than plopping his computer on his lap and pulling up a browser to start looking at local real estate listings when a pounding started up on his front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but that didn’t stop him from tossing his computer aside and flipping on the outdoor lights. He pulled open the door to find Faith Fox on his doorstep.
“What the hell did you do to my best friend?” She pushed past him into his house, shoving a bottle of whiskey into his chest as she stormed by.
Without missing a beat, he cracked it open, took a long pull, and asked, “What the hell did your best friend do tome?”
Faith whipped around and ran judgmental eyes down his body. “Clearly you broke each other. When was the last time you shaved?”
He scratched his jaw self-consciously, grimacing when his fingers rasped along several days’ worth of stubble.
“And when was the last time you did something other than drink your dinner?”
He curled the whiskey into his chest, and she rolled her eyes. “Good God. Where’s your kitchen?”
Feeling distinctly sulky, he pointed the way, and she charged ahead. By the time he joined her, she’d located a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter.
“Sit.” She pointed to the kitchen island, and he did as instructed with a grumble.
“How do you even know where I live?”
“Like it was hard,” she scoffed. “I know people who know people.”
She slid a plate in front of him with a sandwich that she’d cut into four triangles as if he was a child. He picked up the first wedge and crammed it into his mouth, mechanically chewing and swallowing. It landed in his hollow stomach, and dammit, she’d been right. He’d spent most of the time since he’d slammed out of Thea’s house at work, and when he was home, most of his self-care was of the alcohol variety.
“Thanks,” he mumbled as he ate, and as soon as his sandwich was gone, she whisked away the empty plate and dumped it in his sink.
“I didn’t do it foryou.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter to glare at him.
