Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(82)

She nodded, not returning my smile. “I need to get used to sleeping alone. Either that, or start taking pills, which I don’t really want to do.” She smiled faintly. “Off to work? I remember the days.”

“Soon enough, you’ll be back.”

She nodded again. “Have a good day, Cory.”

“You too, Alex.”

In my truck, I rested his head on the steering wheel and closed my eyes, which burned from lack of sleep.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I muttered.

But she could. She was trying to sleep on her own, to wean herself from me, and if I had half a brain in my head, I’d do the same. I regretted now, more than anything, agreeing to move in to her place. “I could have figured it out,” I said, my words nearly drowned by the roar of my truck’s engine coming to life. “I could have stalled for time at the hearing, found a place and…”

And never seen Alexandra again.

I revved the engine mercilessly, no doubt waking all the nearby homeowners in their Craftsman bungalows and angular Eichlers and rounded Spanish-style villas. Not mansions, but comfortable homes, family homes, and as out of reach to me as if they had been mansions.

“So get to work,” I muttered and tore the truck out of the neighborhood just as the sun dragged itself out of the eastern horizon.

#

The job was a big one for Martin Construction: basic remodel of a small, bank-owned foreclosure they wanted to spruce up before reselling. Nothing complicated, but every room needed an overhaul and the plumbing and electrical weren’t even close to code. It meant at least two weeks of solid work, and that’s just what I needed right then. My boss, Randall Martin, wasn’t yet on the jobsite, as per his usual routine. But Vic Ruiz and all the guys were already there, just starting up when I came into the kitchen. It had been stripped down to the studs.

Vic stepped over a stack of tile to greet me with a fist-bump. “Hey, man.”

“Hey, Vic.” I looked to the others: Rob, Jose, Miguel and Doug. The same crew I’d been working with for two years. “Where’s the boss?”

“Getting his beauty rest,” Vic laughed, though he kept his voice low. “Speaking of which, you look like shit. Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Cory said. I’d been assigned to fix the house’s varied plumbing issues, and I slid under the sink while the other guys got down to their tasks in different parts of the house. “Still can’t sleep and when I do, it’s not pretty.”

“Sorry to hear that, man.” Vic—a master electrician—began sorting through a tangle of wires in a square hole they’d cut in the drywall. “So how is it? Living on the beach? With her?”

I was grateful the fat coil of black piping under the sink hid my face. “Keep it down, will you? It’s fine. Not that it matters. I won’t be there much longer.”

“Call me crazy,” Vic said, “but if someone offered me their house by the beach for a dollar a month, you couldn’t pry me outta there with a crow bar.”

“Doesn’t feel right.” I lined the interior edge of a new pipe with yellow PVC glue. “It’s not my house.”

Vic blew air out his cheeks. “Whatever you say.” There was a pause as we worked, then Vic said, “Hey, your birthday is Saturday, right? The big three-oh.”

Doug Liman came in and resumed his work on the floor, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Hey, yeah, we gotta celebrate, man. Get some beers, maybe catch the game. Dodgers have a double-header in town this weekend.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, sliding out from under the sink. “Who against?”

Vic and Doug and exchanged looks. “Since when do you not have the Dodgers’ schedule memorized?” Vic laughed.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, back off, Vic,” Doug said. “Cory’s been too busy being the Hero of United One to keep up with baseball.”

“Shut it, Liman,” I muttered, retreating under the sink. The guy was a prick, the kind of cocky, lazy bum who talked twice as much as he worked and then say you were a kiss-ass if you called him on it.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Doug persisted. “I heard you got grateful women throwing themselves at you. Seen any tail? What about that pretty redhead from the hospital? The one with the cupcakes? She looked pretty goddamned sweet, herself, am I right?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I slid out from under the sink. “I said, shut the f*ck up, Doug.”

“Touchy,” Doug chuckled. “You got a hard-on for her?”

I surged to my feet, my hands balled into fists.

Vic held out his hands. “Hey guys, let’s be cool…”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do.” Doug didn’t look up from his work. “Like I said, pretty f*cking sweet. I’d like to lick her frosting…”

A red haze descended and in the next instant I flew at Doug. The pile of cheap tile toppled, some shattering, as we grappled on the unfinished floor. I gripped Doug by the collar, lifted him up, and slammed my fist into his mouth.

“You don’t talk about her,” I seethed as Vic and someone else—Miguel Fuentes, maybe—hauled me off of the bastard.

Doug scrambled to standing, touching a hand to his bloodied lip. “What the f*ck is your problem, man? Jesus!”