Page 103 of Trustfall

“I’ve made peace with you not going. It wasn’t the right path for you, and I get that now. I also understand that owning a construction company was my dream, not yours. So, I sold it. Half the money is yours. It was always meant to be.”

“Sold it? As in past tense?”

“James Anderson called me a while back to see if I was interested in selling. I said no at the time, but when I called him yesterday, he was still interested. He’s having papers drawn up, but we have a verbal agreement.”

Anderson owns several small businesses in town, and I guess now he wants to get into construction. But verbal agreement or not, I can’t let this happen.

“Break it,” I say firmly. “I’m not letting you throw away twelve years of hard work. And what about the guys? They’ve been loyal to you for years, and now you’re just going to leave them high and dry without jobs?”

“Of course not. One of my conditions is that Anderson keeps all of my employees. He was happy to agree to it, so he doesn’t have to find new skilled workers.”

“Still…this just…I’m not letting you pay for my fuck-up. I didn’t know what else?—”

“Not here,” Dad reminds me. “Luke, I was going to sell anyway. I told you, it’s just not in the cards for me anymore. Anderson is paying more than a fair price. Our client lists, all of the tools and equipment, and our reputation, he knows what it’s worth. It’s more than enough to pay for your bail, and I’ll have a little left over to help Mom with the bills.”

“What will you do, though?”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But I’m excited for the next phase. Whatever it is.”

“And Mom? She’s okay with this?”

“She’s more than okay. I think she likes being the breadwinner, anyway.”

I can’t help but smile at that. My mom has always liked flipping the script on what society expected. She hated being called a working mom. “Do people call men working dads?” she would ask. It was rhetorical. Of course, people never said that.

“Okay,” I finally relent.

“Lucas Collins,” a voice calls, and I see an officer walking toward me. I guess the visit is over. I give my dad another nod and put the phone down, standing up with my cuffed hands held out in front of me so the officer can lead me back to my cell. He leads me past the hallway where the cells are and up toward the prisoner intake area. I turn my head back and look over at the officer. Officer Patel, according to his badge.

“Sir?” I ask hesitantly. “Where are we going?”

I swear to God if they are putting me in solitary confinement or some shit…

We stop at the holding area where they put me when I was first transferred here. It’s where they gave me the jumpsuit I’m currently wearing after they took my street clothes and performed the strip search.

“You’re being released, Mr. Collins,” Officer Patel says.

Released? Did my dad already take care of the bail before he sat down with me? Why not wait to talk until after I got out, though?

“On bail?” I ask for clarification.

“No,” he answers flatly. “All charges have been dropped. We just need to process you for release. It should take about half an hour, and then you’ll be free to go. We can call you a ride, or you can use your phone when we return it to you.”

All charges have been dropped.What. The. Fuck. But I’m too grateful to ask any more questions right now. I’ll find out what happened later. Right now, I need to get my shit and get the fuck home to my girl.

34

EMORY

A low buzzingnext to my ear stirs me from my sleep. Who the fuck is calling me this early? Hopefully, it’s not the hospital. I asked Sandra if she could cover for me again, and she was happy to have the extra hours. I just need more time to deal with everything.

I groan and look at my phone to see that it’s not the hospital. Nate’s name and the dumb image of him holding me in a headlock that I set as his contact picture a while back light up my screen. It’s from when he came to visit me at college sophomore year. I can’t believe this is still the picture that comes up when he calls me. We both have dopey smiles on our faces. We hadn’t seen each other in a while, and Allie had snapped the picture when he put me in a headlock after I called him clingy for hugging me too long. My smile looks pretty genuine, despite the hell I was enduring.

I swipe my phone and answer. “Hello,” I say groggily.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble, it’s not even funny,” he says.

I sigh. He knows. I thought I would have more time. Everything that happened yesterday comes flooding back to me. My dad apologizing. My conversation with Jaxon…

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