“Seriously, Dad.” Tessa rejoins us at the table with a pot of tea and three mugs. “You work so hard, and from what I saw last time I was over at your place, you’re not exactly the most organized person. I don’t know how you find anything in that mess.”
Again, I growl and scratch at a mark on the table top. She’s not wrong. I’m excellent with numbers, investing, and making money for myself and others, but organization isnotmy strong suit. I rely on memory, instinct, and a system that makes sense to me and no one else. And more and more lately, not even to myself.
“I find things,” I mutter. “Eventually.”
Tessa lifts a brow. “Eventually?”
“I was late tonight because I couldn’t find a file I’m going to need for a meeting in the morning,” I confess. The words taste like defeat on my tongue, especially when I see the way she’s looking at me. “Okay,” I admit. “Sometimes my office gets a little out of control, and I spend twenty minutes looking for something that should be right on my desk.”
Holt doesn’t bother hiding his laugh. “And?”
I scowl in his direction. “And it was,” I admit. “Just under a different pile than it should have been.”
“Dad, there shouldn’t be any piles,” Tessa says gently. “Piles aren’t a system. It’s chaos.”
“It works.”
“Clearly.”
Again, I glare at my buddy.
“Seriously, Luke. From where I’m sitting, you look like you could use a little help.”
Help?
He fucking knows better.
I shove my chair back from the table. “I’m not going to sit here and?—”
“I know you don’t want to hear it.” Holt jumps to his feet and stands in front of me. “And you know I wouldn’t suggest such a thing lightly.”
“You shouldn’t suggest such a thing,period.” My voice is low and heavy with warning.
Holt doesn’t back down, not that Iexpect him to. “All we’re saying is that maybe you could benefit from an assistant.”
“No.” The refusal comes automatically, the same way it always does. Letting someone into my workflow means trusting them with information that isn’t mine. It means letting some into my life. And that’s a no.
Not happening.
“Dad,” Tessa says softly. “Don’t say no right away. I have an idea that might actually help you, and I don’t think you’ll hate it completely.”
“No.” I turn to grab my jacket and get out. “Thank you for dinner. I have meetings in the morning, I need to go.”
They don’t try to stop me, and it’s not until fifteen minutes later when I’m turning down the snow covered gravel road that leads to my own cabin, that I start to feel like an asshole.
I know they’re only looking out for me, even if it pisses me off.
My tires crunch over the snow, the sound unnaturally loud in the dark, quiet forest. There are no other vehicles way out here. No lights. No sign of life at all.
Exactly how I designed it.
How wealldesigned it when we’d moved to the mountain all those years ago.
Hell, if it wasn’t for my business, I wouldn’t even have cell service or internet capabilities either. The state-of-the-art system I’d installed on the mountain was a necessary evil to work, and stay connected with the guys in case of emergency, but I’d happily turn it off if I could.
The cabin comes into view, a dark shape set against the darker trees. No patio lights strung on the porch, no welcoming glow of a lamp inside, no smoke curling from the chimney. Just a cold, empty house alone in the mountains.
At Holt’s place, there had been noise. Laughter, movement, and life.Love.
