Page 18 of Drilled

“You’re dangling access to my own money just to get me to change my career? That’s your big game plan?” My eyes instinctively flickered around my empty office, looking for anyone who might overhear the shakiness in my words. I lowered my voice, closed my eyes and tried to ground myself in reality.

Rose hadn’t had a hand in my life for most of it. I’d built everything I have now on my own, and I wasn’t going to let her make me feel small for it. Not again, not anymore.

“I know that you think little of what I chose to do with my life. But at some point you’re going to just have to accept it or stay out of it,” I ground out.

“My. You sound just like your father,” she said.

The words were a sucker punch. I wished more than anything that I could know what that even meant, whether an insult or a compliment and I knew that coming from my mother, it could honestly have gone either way.

“Dreams are fine when you’re just starting out and have the safety net of naivety. But you’re twenty-eight, Lane. I think it’s long past due you start taking yourself more seriously,” she said.

“I do take myself seriously. You don’t, don’t get that mixed up,” I reminded her. Despite my attempts at trying to remain calm and impassive, I couldn’t do it. I couldn't let this woman talk and drag me back to that insecure little girl I used to be but as always, when it came to Rose, my spine just seemed to dissolve. I could wrangle men twice my size and three times my weight who’d been caught up on battery charges, and yet I couldn’t stand up to my own mother.

I hated this part of myself.

“I’m not quitting my job. I’m not going to change my life just because you’re ashamed of me. Drop the probate petition, I mean it,” I said.

There was a brief pause.

“We’ll see what the judge says about your uncle's state of mind, Lane. Eat a proper lunch. You sound hysterical.” The line went dead in my ear.

I threw my phone down onto my desk and dropped my head in my hands, trying to steady myself. There was a sinking pit in my stomach, a slow-rising panic that I’d thought I’d managed to smooth out over the years of hearings and depositions. But despite my title, I could never defend myself against her in a way that held weight.

I would always be on trial when it came to Rose Whittaker.

*

The walk home felt ten times heavier than the morning commute had and it didn’t help that the weather was still as shitty as expected. Everything was tainted in slate gray—relentless, ugly, depressing gray. Not to mention the slush left behind the snowbanks that melted into dirty, toxic icy puddles.

It was like I had pounds worth of mud and cement tracking in my boots as I dragged them across the threshold and shrugged off my coat. I was immediately greeted by unexpected warmth from the heart of my living area, evidently coming from the brick chimney heart that anchored the space.

Someone had lit a fire inside, and there was a small pile of waiting logs at the base of it. It didn’t take long for me to figure out who’d done it because Silas walked out, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw me, then lighting up as he beamed.

“Lane!” he said, wiping down his hands on his work pants. “You’re home. I hope you don’t mind, I thought the house could do with some heat. I checked the flue parameters first and cleaned the grate on my own dime so it wouldn't back-draft into Sandy's place. One less thing for you to worry about.”

“Thank you, Silas. I really appreciate that,” I said, hanging up my coat and instantly moving to the fireplace. I held out my palms to try and soak up as much of the warmth as I could, staring into the flames.

Silas came up to stand beside me, a respectable distance away. Even though I wasn’t looking directly at him, my peripheral view caught his hands fidgeting at his sides, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

Ironic for the man who was essentially the do-it-all fixer of the crew.

“Uh, I don’t mean to push for information that’s none of my business. But are you alright? You don’t sound like yourself tonight,” he said softly and I finally turned to look at him.

His blonde brows were knotted in genuine concern, his face looking softer and younger in the flickering firelight. My heart clenched at the gentleness in his voice, but even his kindness felt blunt against what I was wrestling with.

There wasn’t an easy way to explain everything, and honestly, it wasn’t even something I’d shared in detail with Nance. She knew just enough to mark out which parts of my life were to be sealed up entirely.

“No, I’m not okay. But I will be, I just need some time to get over it,” I said.

His frown deepened. “But I don’t think you should keep this kind of thing to your—”

“Sy, I need you to help me move this heavy vanity top,” Bear’s voice came from the end of the hallway.

Silas spun around and I saw Bear standing with his hands on his hips, his face impassive and his aura letting us both know that it was less of a request than an instruction. But when his eyes met mine, there was an understanding there that I appreciated more than I could express right now.

Silas gave me one last worried glance before lightly touching my elbow and then listening to Bear. I stayed near the fire for a few more moments and then made a beeline for the kitchen. This was the kind of day that called for something red and deep and preferably French.

I pulled a gorgeous bottle of Pinot Noir from the cabinet and was settling in to pour a generous glass when Dax suddenly popped into the kitchen. I was perfectly content with ignoring him until he sauntered up to me and slid my wine glass away from my reaching hand.