Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Riven

Igot up thirty minutes earlier than I needed to for work. I wasn’t taking any chances of anything going wrong. After getting dressed, I put my black ball cap on backward the way I liked to wear it. I had two of them, one for work and one for everyday wear. I didn’t feel like myself without them, and I’d missed them when I was locked up.

Keeping with the time schedule, I arrived at the office thirty minutes before I was supposed to as well, and sat waiting in the truck.

Apparently, I made it there before my new boss, because he pulled up next to me a few minutes later and walked over. I rolled down the window, and he asked, “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m Riven McKenna. I’m supposed to start work today.”

He looked startled for a moment, but recovered quickly. “You’re here early. I like that.”

“Thank you, sir.” Six years ago I would have skipped the honorific. Prison got me tougher in some ways, but I became more settled down and grown up in others. The first year was tough. I had to detox from alcohol and drug use. I got into trouble for fights and shit like that before I learned to keep my head down. I didn’t play games anymore because that hadn’t gotten me anywhere but to the worst six years of my life.

Harold stepped back, so I got out of the truck. The door squeaked when I closed it. Harold led me into the trailer he used for his shop, and there was a large storage building to the left of it, where I assumed the equipment went.

“Thank you for giving me a chance. I really appreciate it,” I said when we stepped inside. I didn’t figure a lot of people were willing to work with ex-cons.

“People deserve a second chance. Just don’t let me down.”

His way of thinking was so foreign to me—giving people chances—but then around here, if employers didn’t hire people who’d been in trouble, who’d had to blow into a breathalyzer to start their car, or who’d never gotten into a drunken fight at the Homestead, there wouldn’t be a whole lot of people left to hire. “I won’t. You can count on me.”

He sat me down at a computer and had me fill out the paperwork. I looked up when the door opened, and my blood ran cold. Parrish Hunt was standing there in a pair of faded jeans, work boots, and a T-shirt. His blond hair was a little shaggy and messier than it used to be. He had scruff along his jaw, and though he’d been twenty-three the last time I saw him, he hadn’t had it yet.

He didn’t see me right away, heading straight for the boss. “Morning,” he told Harold, his voice rough and raspy, making me wonder if he still smoked.

“Hey, Parrish. Just the man I wanted to see. I have someone new for your crew today.” He pointed to me, Parrish’s pupils blowing wide the second his gaze landed on me. His jaw tensed, and even from a distance, I could see the pulse there. What the fuck he had to be pissed about was beyond me. I’d spent years in prison for his brother. I figured Frank and Rex had let the youngest Hunt in on the truth. “Parrish, this is Riven. Riven, this is Parrish. He’s the best guy I have out there and runs one of the two crews. You’ll fit well with him.”

The fuck I would. My feet itched to run for the door, to tell him there was no way in hell I could work with Parrish Hunt, but I needed this damn job. It was a good chance, and I’d make decent money for around here.

Parrish looked at me as if he’d rather be anywhere else too, but he recovered first. “Hey, Riven. Been a long time.” He walked over and held his hand out for me.

My legs didn’t want to do as I told them, but eventually I was able to make myself stand and force my hand out to shake his. “Parrish.”

“Oh, I forgot you fellas are both from Clayton, so you likely know each other.”

“Acquaintances,” I said.

“Great. I’m gonna head out. I have an estimate to take care of. Parrish can help you with anything you need, and when the other guys get here, you can be on your way. Let me know if you need anything.” Harold gave us a wave, the bell on the door dinging when he walked out.

“I heard you were back.” Parrish took a few steps back and crossed his arms.

“Yep,” was all I said because I worried if I let myself say too much, I was going to ruin this job before I got the chance to work my first day.

“Don’t fuck off on this job.”

“Kiss my ass, Parrish.” Jesus, what was his problem? But then, the Hunts had never needed much reason to hate anyone. Despite what I’d done, I was likely on their shit list now because they didn’t like anyone who had something that could be held over their heads.

“I’m serious. Harold is good people. I know you, Riven. You’re just like my brother. You have no loyalty to anyone, and if you screw him over, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” I asked, my throat tight. This was the last thing I needed. No way would this work. I should cut my losses and walk out now, but damn it, I wanted this job. Wanted to work with my hands. Why did the Hunts get to take this away from me too?

“Just don’t. And stay away from Rex and Becca. All they need is you bringing more drama into their lives. Rex finds enough trouble without you getting him into more. They’ve got two little girls. They can’t afford for you to take them down with the same old shit.”

Parrish had more fire to him than he used to. I remembered him hanging on to everything we did and said, trying to be like us. Looked like he’d found his footing on his own.

I rubbed a hand over my face, fingers pressing into my eyes. This was a mess. Could I do this? Could I work with Parrish? I never expected I’d see a Hunt here. I sure as shit would have never thought a legit employer would call a Hunt the best man they had. Before I’d gone inside, none of them had been able to hold down a job any better than me. “I just want to work, collect my paycheck, and find a way to get the hell out of this town.”

Parrish’s brows pulled together like he hadn’t expected that. Still, his scowl kept his lips in a firm line. Parrish was… Jesus, he was sexy, and I hated thinking that about him. If I didn’t hate him and his whole family, I’d want to fuck him. But I did hate him, and I didn’t have time in my life for shit like that. Outside of Grandma, I wanted no ties to this town.

“And Bec?” he asked.

“Becca made her choice a long time ago. As far as I’m concerned, he can have her. I don’t want shit to do with any of you.”

Parrish opened his mouth to reply, but the bell jingled again and a guy walked in. “I’m telling you, P. You better not go too hard on my ass today. I might have had too much to drink last night.”

“Fuck, Smitty. Again? You need to take this shit seriously.”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Idiot,” Parrish grumbled, which made me frown. I sure as shit couldn’t remember him or Rex complaining if someone drank too much the night before. Hell, they would have been there right along with them. Frank Hunt started getting us all drunk when we were ten years old.

“Who are you?” the guy asked me.

“Riven,” I said, not offering him any more information.

“New guy,” Parrish said. “He’ll be with me, you, and Wayne.”

“Hey, bro. Not gonna be the best company today, but nice to have you.”

I just nodded at him. I wasn’t there to make friends. I was there to work.

*

There was anew subdivision going in, and that’s where we spent our day. It was strange to see them try to build up Fulton, which was right outside Clayton. They didn’t have new subdivisions before I’d gone inside. People rarely moved in. Why the hell would they want to? The place didn’t have much to offer.

But according to Parrish, we’d be there for the next few months, working house to house. He hadn’t spoken directly to me all day, and I’d done the same. Wayne was a really talkative guy, and I liked him all right, but I just didn’t want to connect with anyone. I didn’t figure any good could come of it, and I just…fuck, I didn’t know if I even knew how to be friends with anyone anymore. Relationships in prison were strange, and except for Grandma, no one had come to see me when I was inside. Wayne likely thought I was a dick, and honestly, I was, but for whatever reason, he’d kept trying.

“Good work out there today, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Parrish told us after driving the work truck back to the shop where we’d left our vehicles.

“Hey, Riven. You wanna go grab a beer?” Wayne asked, and fuck, he was nice, I could tell, but I didn’t know how to be around nice guys. I hadn’t had many of them in my life.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

I accidentally caught Parrish’s eye and saw him frown. Did he think I couldn’t say no to hitting the bar, or what? My ass didn’t plan to step foot in another bar around here, and definitely not after what happened. I’d be sure to run into Bill, Frank, or Rex.

“Boss? How about you?” Wayne said to Parrish. He’d been calling Parrish that all day, which was strange.

“I’m good. Thanks, Wayne.”

I leaned against my truck, waiting for Wayne and Smitty to leave, wishing like hell I didn’t need to ask Parrish to sign my PO’s form. Parrish had talked to Harold earlier in the day, and I’d heard my name, so I was sure he knew what I needed him to do for me.

When the other guys were gone, I grabbed my paper and a pen from my truck and headed to him. Not all the POs did this, but Tom seemed to be pretty hands-on, which I figured a lot of the guys needed, but I didn’t.

“I need you to sign this.” I shoved the paper at Parrish. What were the odds? I went to prison for his brother, and now he had to sign off for my PO that I went to work every damn day.

“Say please.” Parrish didn’t move to sign it.

My whole body tensed up, anger setting my insides on fire. “Sign the paper, Parrish.”

He sighed but did it, then shoved it back into my hands.

This was so fucked up.

Without another word, I got in my truck and drove away.