Can't Let You Go: A Wheeler Brothers Novel (22 page)

My anger spikes as I think about Rita and all the trouble she causes.

"Did you tell your mom this?" I ask.

"No. She wouldn't care."

"She
should
. It's
her
damn fault you might lose your job."

"I'll find another one." She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, which is what she does to calm down. Her mom is stressing her out again. It's what Rita does best and I hate her for that.

Jen keeps her eyes closed so I take a moment to look at her. She's so beautiful, her long, dark blond hair splayed out over my pillow, framing her face. I want to lean over and put my lips to hers and kiss her. I want to slip my hand under the covers and feel her soft skin and touch her like I did last night.

Her eyes open and she smiles at me. "Did you sleep? When you finally got off the couch?"

"Yeah. I slept great."

"Me too." Her eyes catch mine and hold my gaze, and as always, I know what she's thinking. Like me, she wishes this could continue. That we could be a couple and have every night be like last night, with her falling asleep in my arms and waking up next to each other. But neither one of us comes out and says that because we know it won't happen. It's not meant to be.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Bryce

"Let's go have breakfast," I say, shoving the covers back and getting out of bed. If I'd stayed there a moment longer, I would've kissed her, or done more than that.

"I'll make it. You go get ready so you can go deal with the car."

I take a quick shower, then put on jeans and a long sleeve shirt and go out to the kitchen. Jen is standing in front of the stove, her sweatshirt on, still wearing her pajama pants, her hair in a ponytail. She's trying to make pancakes but they're sticking to the pan as she tries to flip them.

"We could've just had cereal," I say, coming up behind her and taking the spatula from her.

"I wanted to make pancakes." She turns toward me and I block her in, holding the skillet handle with one hand while flipping the now mangled pancake with the other. She smiles at me. "You gonna let me out?"

"No. I'm giving you a cooking lesson." I nod at the pan. "You gotta wait until they bubble on top before you flip them."

She turns back to the skillet. "I think I ruined them. Maybe we should just have cereal."

By flipping them too soon, her pancakes are misshapen lumps of half-cooked batter.

"Yeah. Cereal would be good." I turn the stove off and set the skillet on a different burner.

"I'll clean it up later," she says, taking the cereal from the cabinet. Then she gets out the bowls; a normal-sized one for her and a big plastic mixing bowl for me. When I said I eat half a box of cereal at a time, I wasn't kidding.

As we're pouring our cereal my phone rings. It's the people who own the home where I did the kitchen remodel. Shit. I hope I didn't screw something up. Or maybe they don't like the job I did.

"I have to get this," I say to Jen. I walk into the living room as I answer, "Hello, this is Bryce."

"Bryce, this is Lois Peterson. I hope I didn't interrupt your work."

"No, it's fine. I have today off."

"Oh, goodness, I don't want to take up your time. I just wanted to call quick and tell you what a wonderful job you did on the kitchen."

I smile. "So it turned out the way you wanted it?"

"Even better. You did a beautiful job. I cried when I saw it, I was so happy."

"And your husband liked it?"

"He was thrilled with how it turned out. And we were both impressed at how clean everything was. We couldn't even find any dust."

My dad is really strict about cleanup. He says we should leave our job site clean, if not cleaner, than when we started.

"We make it a point to clean up our mess."

"Well, I think you're the only contractors in town that do. This is by far the best experience I've ever had. My husband and I have owned several houses over the years and had numerous remodeling jobs done, but none could even compare with the high quality work you did and the professional manner in which you carried out the job."

Thank God she didn't find out about my original crew, out smoking weed in her yard. I hope her neighbors didn't see.

"I'll be leaving raving reviews for you online," she says. "And I'm going to tell all my friends. I've already told a few. You can expect to be getting a lot more business very soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Peterson. It's good to hear you're happy with the job."

"I'm more than happy." Her voice rises. "I'm elated!"

Mrs. Peterson is an older retired woman and really nice. When I first met her, I think she was afraid of me because of all my tats, but then we talked for a while and she relaxed around me. The tats do tend to scare people off, not because the tattoos themselves are scary, but because I have so many of them. When I walk in a room, people tend to back away, like they're afraid I'm going to go crazy and start yelling and screaming and throwing chairs around.

"I'll let you get back to your day," Mrs. Peterson says. "I'm going to go make something in my new kitchen, although it's so pretty I'm almost afraid to use it." She laughs.

"Go ahead and use it. You gotta break it in."

"Thank you again, Bryce. You're a very talented young man. And a hard worker. I wish you much success."

"Thanks. Enjoy your kitchen."

"Oh, I definitely will. Goodbye."

"Bye."

"Who was that?" Jen asks as I meet her at the breakfast bar. She has my cereal set up next to hers, the milk already poured.

"The woman who owns the house I worked on last week."

"What did she think?"

"She loved it." I smile. "She even cried when she saw it."

"Bryce, that's awesome. Don't you love doing work that people actually appreciate? I'll be doing work that nobody appreciates."

"That's not true."

"I'm going to be an accountant. Nobody appreciates accountants. And everyone makes fun of us. Says we're boring."

"You're not boring." I put my arm around her and hug her into my side, making her almost fall off her stool.

She laughs. "I didn't say I was, but that's the stereotype."

"You can't listen to other people. Everyone thinks I'm an ex-con or planning to kill someone just because I'm covered in ink."

"That's not true." She dunks her spoon in her cereal and scoops some up.

"Are you saying you don't want to be an accountant?"

"No. I'm just saying it's nice to do something that makes people happy like that. I mean, that lady called you up just to tell you how much she liked her kitchen. That's gotta make you feel good."

"It does. It's one of the perks of the job, but I don't get those calls very often. Even when people are happy with a job, they forget to tell you."

We finish breakfast, then Jen goes to take a shower while I call Austin.

"Hey. You still in bed?" I ask when he answers.

"No. I'm eating breakfast. Why?"

"I need you to ride over with me to Jen's apartment. I'm going to try to fix her car, and if I'm able to get it started, I need you to drive it here."

"Okay, just let me change clothes. You coming over right now?"

"Yeah, so get ready. I'll see you soon."

When I get to my dad's house, my three cousins are all sitting in the living room watching some reality show. They love that shit. They're 14, 16, and 18. All girls.

"Hey, Bryce." My youngest cousin, Kaitlyn, jumps up from the couch and gives me a hug.

"Hey." I point to her sisters, Lisa and Mandy. "What about you two? You're not going to say hello?"

Their eyes are glued to the TV, and Lisa says, "We will during the commercial break."

My Aunt Mary appears. "Girls, get up and give your cousin a hug." She shakes her head at them as she hugs me. "They're obsessed with those reality shows."

I laugh. "It's okay. I'm just here to pick up Austin."

She steps back and smiles. "You get better looking every time I see you. Are you dating anyone?"

"No. Not right now."

"But Jen is staying at his apartment all week," Austin says, appearing behind her. I give him a look to shut up but I know he won't.

"Jen is such a sweet girl," my aunt says. "And so pretty. I don't know why you two aren't a couple."

"Because he's stubborn as a mule," Austin says, taking his jacket from the closet.

"You're gonna freeze with that hair," I tell him. His hair is still wet from the shower.

It must be a commercial break because Lisa and Mandy are now off the couch and both hugging me.

"Hi, Bryce," Lisa says. She's the oldest. She graduates in May, then she's going to beauty school.

"Why didn't Jen come over?" Mandy asks.

My cousins love Jen. When they were kids and used to visit us, Jen would come over and hang out with them because hanging out with us boys was no fun for three girls.

"She's working on a paper," I say. "But maybe I'll bring her over later."

"Bryce." My dad comes into the living room. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah."

Austin laughs. "You're in trouble again?"

"Shut up and go dry your hair." I follow my dad into the kitchen. "What's up?"

"I got a call from Mrs. Peterson." He smiles. "She called to tell me what a great job you did on the remodel."

"Yeah, she called me this morning."

"I've already had three calls from her friends who have remodeling jobs. I'll give you their numbers. I'm going to have you handle them."

"Why me? You and Jake always handle the new business."

"You brought this business in so I want you to take these customers as your own. Call them up. Assess the project. Make up an estimate and run it past me, then go talk it over with the homeowners. If they agree to it, you're in charge of the job."

He's really trusting me to be in charge of a job? And follow-up on job leads?

"Dad, I'm not sure I'm the best person to be sending out to customers. Jake looks the part. Just have him do the initial contact."

Jake doesn't have tattoos and he dresses in expensive clothes. He has that put-together, professional look that I don't have.

"These are referrals that came from Mrs. Peterson. She knows
you
, not Jake. Her friends will be expecting to see you, not him. But I do expect you to put on dress pants and a button-up shirt when you go on sales calls, just like Jake and I do." He pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. "Those are the people who called me. I told them you'd be in touch later today or tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll call them this afternoon."

"For getting us these referrals, I'm going to double your bonus on the Peterson job."

My dad always gives my brothers and me a bonus when we finish a job, as long as it's done well and the customer is happy. I already got a big bonus on this job so getting double that is a lot of money.

He hands me the check and smiles. "Go out and celebrate. You earned it."

"Thanks." I grin when I see the thousand dollar check written out to me. "And um..." I glance down at the check then back at my dad. "Thanks for giving me a chance."

"You earned that too." He pats me on the back. "Keep up the good work." He goes back to the living room.

"You ready?" Austin walks in, his hair now dry.

"Yeah, let's go."

As we're driving to Jen's place, Austin says, "What'd Dad want?"

"I got some referrals out of that kitchen remodel and he wants me to handle them."

"No shit?" He smiles. "You gonna turn into Jake now? Wearing fancy clothes and taking forever to do your hair?"

I laugh because the hair comment is so true. Jake takes at least ten minutes to do his hair. The rest of us wash it and let it dry. But Jake uses all these products, and I don't know what the hell he does with them but he takes way too damn long to do his hair. Then again, before he started dating Ivy, he got more women than the rest of us, so maybe all that time working on his hair was worth it.

"I won't be becoming Jake," I say. "But I do have to dress like him for the sales calls."

"I hope Dad doesn't make
me
do that. I like just doing construction. I don't want anything to do with the sales side."

"You should do the marketing. You're good at coming up with ideas. Must be that creative artist gene the rest of us didn't get."

"Yeah, must be." He taps his phone on his leg. "So how's it going with Jen?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Must be hard to live with her."

"Why would it be hard? We're best friends. We're used to hanging out together."

"Yeah, but not living together." He pauses. "Are you sleeping with her?"

"We
sleep
," I say, glancing at him. "That's it. I tried sleeping on the couch but I didn't fit."