Page 32 of You Saw the Best In Me

I’m not used to being praised for anything, so this is unfamiliar territory.

“Of course. Anything I can do to help,” I smile, and he lets me go.

Hunter, I’m learning, isn’t a man made for small talk. He says what needs to be said, and that’s the end of it.

I appreciate it, considering I hate small talk and making friends.

My phone rings with a new text, and I know it’s from Harper.

I finished my work. Can I go with Karina?

Take the money on the counter. There should be plenty.

I got it. How much should I tip?

Give her everything I left.

Okay, thanks, Mav.

I shake my head. My little sister is growing up way too quickly.

I set up the camera and link it to my phone in no time. All I need to do is get the angle right once I’m home, and her car is next to mine.

I debate if I should tell her about the camera. I don’t want her to think I, too, am stalking her, but if she were to notice something, at least she’d have peace of mind knowing I caught it on camera.

Once we begin to talk again, I’ll bring it up.

I finish lunch and return to work, ensuring I’m on my game.

Adam comes out shortly after, telling us all to go home early.

“Thanks to the new kid for thinking ahead and having wood ready for today,” he yells, and everyone cheers.

“Beers are on the new kid this afternoon. Let’s go, boys,” Trevor, one of the older guys on the crew, shouts and grabs me by the arm.

“Where are we going?” I ask, getting in my truck.

“Bar down the road,” he says, telling me to follow him.

“I can only stay for one round,” I warn, and he laughs.

Following the guys to the bar, I have too much on my mind. I don’t usually socialize and can’t think of a way to escape it.

It is only a short ride down the street, and we all pile inside and sit in a booth.

The waitress comes over, greeting them all like they’re regulars.

Thomas, another one of the crew, orders two pitchers for the table, and the waitress heads off to bring us glasses.

“Nice work, new kid. I guess we can officially ask you what your name is,” Trevor asks, smiling at me.

“It’s Maverick,” I say, hoping the attention turns off me and onto anyone else.

“So, Maverick, what’s your story? You never really talk,” Andrew asks, and I guess I’m not so lucky.

They all look at me, waiting to say something, and I feel the spotlight beaming on me, my cheeks burning red, matching the uneasiness I feel in my belly.

“I don’t have one. I just work and go home. I’ve got family like you all do, and that’s about it,” I offer, hoping that satisfies the desire to get to know me.