Some part of me knows he’s not coming back.
I hear a moan from another room, and I know I could join another couple here, make the most of my time. Some would happily invite me in, but I’m not feeling it. I want the omega with different colored eyes and changing scents.
So, I wait to see if he returns, but he never does. By nightfall, I give up, dressing and packing my small bag of things, and I make my way out to my truck.
And as I drive away from The Den, I tell myself I’ll get over it.
He’s just an omega. I’ll find another. This possessiveness I feel is just a one-off. It will fade.
Even so, there’s a small part of me that questions if it will. Maybe I’ll see those different-colored eyes and smell the varying scents of him for the rest of my boring fucking life.
CHAPTER
ONE
GLENN
Three monthslater
“Hey, Glenn. Do you know if we’re getting a new superintendent on this project? Thought I heard we were,” Fisher says, adjusting his hard hat and glancing at the empty trailer sitting across from the houses we are currently building. “You know, because Declan isn’t here anymore. I mean, he was shit at his job, so I’m not surprised he’s gone, but yeah, you know anything?”
My mind shifts to two months ago, Declan meeting with someone on the edge of the worksite. His body hunched down as he spoke to someone in a sleek silver car. He caught me staring, his hands slipping an envelope into his back pocket before moving toward me and shouting at me to get back to work.
I thought little of it at the time, just thought he was meeting up with a friend, but now that I think about it, that’s when things really went downhill. The project was already riddled with compliance issues and controversy, setbacks popping up far too often.
But maybe that had something to do with the claims we are building on sacred land. Since the project began, a small group of protestors has been showing up now and again, chanting something in a different language, signs above their heads.
Not sure why they’re here when the land’s been purchased legitimately, but then again, maybe it really is sacred. Either way, we’re building on it.
As fucking sad as that is.
“Think we have a new one coming soon,” I say, not allowing myself to go down a conspiratorial hole, thinking about Declan and a payout he may have gotten. “Jericho was supposed to call, but I haven’t gotten a message yet.”
“Hm, I mean, fuck him for not telling the site supervisor what’s going on, you know what I mean?” Fisher frowns and then scrubs at his face, his unruly beard abrading his palm. “Anyway, guess we better get back to work.”
“Yep,” I say, and then grab the nail gun, moving to the joists that need to be secured in the homes we’re constructing. It’s a thirty-home project that’s part of a large residential neighborhood, and it’s run by the Timberwood company. They’re a reputable organization that, at one point in time, pushed the bounds of what was seen as ethical a little too often. But in the past few years, they’ve rebranded and have been trying to walk the straight and narrow. The protestors have thrown things off a little, but I appreciate the effort Timberwood has put in to mitigate it. Because if they continued to operate the way they had been, I’d have to find someone else to work for.
I’ve been in construction since I turned eighteen. I love the physicality of putting something together, love that I’m part of making something new.
And to be honest, the job is easy for me, so my work ethic and personal skills led me to become a site supervisor in my early twenties. Hopefully, the new superintendent they bring ondoesn’t step on my toes and appreciates what I can bring to the table. Don’t need someone coming in from upper management and messing shit up. My men respect me, and we have a flow.
We’re making good progress, even with a previous shitty superintendent and all the setbacks that, looking back, seem a little too well-planned.
I have a feeling this is why Declan was fired, or why he finally left, but pulling in a new superintendent at this stage is always a little frustrating.
But I’ll get through it. We’ll find a way to work together and get shit done on time.
I focus once more on the joists, the sun beating down and making me sweat. I can’t wait for late fall when things cool down. It makes everything easier. Doesn’t help that we have the occasional thunderstorm these days, and they can throw off an entire day of work.
As lunch approaches, two cars pull into the dirt lot near the trailer. One is a large SUV, belonging to Jericho, the man in upper management. The other is a fancy sedan, one I don’t recognize. It looks well taken care of. Expensive, freshly waxed. It certainly won’t look like that at the end of the day. Jericho exits the SUV, and a man I don’t know steps out of the expensive car.
Both are wearing suits, their leather shoes not meant for this place.
And that haircut the new man is sporting is way too fucking expensive for this kind of environment. Short on the sides, long on top. Blond and perfectly coiffed.
My eyes narrow as I watch them speak to one another, Jericho pointing at different things around the site, the other man nodding and looking around. He’s wearing sunglasses, so I can’t quite make out what he’s looking at, but I know by the crane of his slim neck that he’s assessing the build of the housesbeing constructed. Probably trying to remember everything before he hits the ground running on this project.
They get closer, approaching at a leisurely pace, and I realize some men working under me have stopped to watch their approach. I shout at them to get back to work, and my raised voice catches the attention of Jericho and the other man.
