Page 10 of Because of Them

“Anytime.” Callum’s hands are shoved deep in his jean pockets. “We better go, let you get her dinner sorted.”

“Yes, thanks.”

Taking a step back, I pull my hand away from my stomach to wave an awkward goodbye before turning towards the house. Footsteps recede down the gravel driveway, but something stops me from going inside when I hear the car doors open.

“Wait,” I call out.

As I spin on my heel to face them again, Callum steps a leg back out of the car.

“What’s wrong?”

I jog a few steps towards them so they can hear me over the power tools next door. “Nothing, I was just wondering if you were still looking for a house?”

Callum turns towards his girlfriend. She tilts her head to the side and gestures to him.

“Maybe, why?”

“I found the perfect place for you.”

MICHAEL

“Oi Mikey, quit fucking around and bring me the nail gun. We need to get this frame up before the rain.”

Taking a final, long swig of my sports drink, I throw up the finger to Brendan. His eyebrows pinch together in a scowl darker than the clouds rolling over. He slams his finger out towards the truck yelling, “Now.”

Throwing the empty bottle in the rubbish cage, I hold out my palms in defeat. I jump down from where I was seated on the hood of the Ford Ranger and my work boots squelch in the clay that has somehow spilled off the site and onto the newly constructed road.

“Alright, alright.”

I don’t have the energy to deal with Brendan’s bullshit. The bloke gets made site manager for one job and he thinks he is theking. Walking around with his shoulders back like he owns the slab of concrete we are building on today. But I love him anyway, I’d just never tell him that.

After grabbing the gun and a box of nails from the toolbox secured to the tray of the ute, I step onto the concrete slab. Baxter follows close behind me. He likes to pretend he is some big working dog, but the truth is that he’ll find the sunniest spot on the slab and lie down to snooze the whole day through.

It’ll be a big house, this one. Fancy too, from what I could tell from the blueprints. Wide open hallways, more living spaces than bedrooms, and what I’m sure will be a beautiful outdoor living area. But right now, it’s just a slab on a pile of dirt and clay.

With the nail gun in hand, we go about fixing the pieces together like a puzzle. A connects to B, nails where everything joins together, and support posts for each section.

It’s easy, thoughtless work. At least with Brendan calling the shots.

The overcast sky has turned dark by the time we call it a day. The low sun fights to give light, and the air has a wet mossy smell. The ground floor frame is complete, and Brendan pulls out his phone to check the weather radar. I don’t need a fancy image to tell me the rain is coming. Plus, we all know the second story isn’t getting finished today, even if it wasn’t about to pour. We’ve been here since the crack of dawn, and there’s no chance Dad would approve overtime when the job is so far on schedule. Besides, the scaffolding hasn’t been delivered.

“Brendan, we’re done mate. Let’s pack up.” I throw my shoulder against his as I walk past.

He shoves his phone in his pocket and clears his throat.

“Alright boys, let’s pack up,” he calls out.

I ignore the uncomfortable itch that spreads along my back, the one that wants to call him out for following my lead when he is meant to be the one in charge. Never mind the fact he calledthe shots all day, a grumble rolls through my throat that he took the credit for ending the shift. I don’t want to be the one in charge, but it feels like crap knowing it’s Brendan who is.

We started as apprentices at the same time and have been mates since the very first day we were asked to fetch the left-handed screwdrivers. It’s great that he is stepping up and taking on some responsibility, he should have done it years ago. But I don’t like feeling as though I’m being left behind.

Rolling my shoulders, I pack the tools into the box on my truck. The only person to blame here is me.

I check Baxter’s feet, wiping away as much of the mud and clay from the fur around his paws as I can. Satisfied they are as clean as they are going to get without giving him a bath, I force him into the passenger seat before walking back around the car. I’m about to climb in, drive off without a hint of a goodbye when Brendan slams a palm on the passenger roof. Baxter gives a friendly growl through the half open window, and I jump a little at the clang, searching the sky for hints of thunder before I realise my mate was just being over enthusiastic.

“So, did you see that bird again? The mum?”

I suck in a breath. “No. I mean, yeah but it was terrible.”

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