Page 47 of My Soul for Sale

“Sit, pretty girl. Let us handle the heavy lifting," I suggest, guiding her to a porch chair and handing her a bottle of water.

"Thanks, Daddy," she responds with a playful wink, taking a sip.

My cock jumps, but I quickly push away any inappropriate thoughts. Sloane is Atlas' girl now, and I need to respect that boundary.

With Sloane settled and everything unloaded, I wave the delivery guys off, and we get to work. We start by removing the old trim, the sound of splintering wood echoing through the air as we pry it from the walls.

Once it’s cleared away and piled by the curb, it’s time to get the new pieces up.

It’s the afternoon and while it’s not hot in Detroit yet, working in the house with no air conditioning has both of us dripping in sweat. Simultaneously, we pull our shirts over our heads, welcoming the warm breeze against our bare skin.

A sudden gasp from behind has me twisting around to find Sloane standing there, her eyes wide with admiration as she takes in the view. Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, a subtle gesture that doesn't escape my notice.

Despite the heat, a shiver runs down my spine at the intensity of her gaze. With a playful smirk, Atlas catches her eye, teasing her with a knowing glance. "Like what you see?" he jests, his voice laced with amusement.

Sloane's cheeks flush pink, but she doesn't look away. Instead, she meets his gaze head-on, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Maybe," she replies coyly.

As we continue working, I steal glances at Sloane whenever I can, unable to resist the magnetic pull.

With each piece of trim we install, the house begins to transform, shedding its old skin and revealing a new, refreshed home. And as we step back to admire our handiwork, I can't help but feel a swell of pride.

The trim is done and it’s getting dark. Tomorrow we’ll come back and do the floors, but I’m hungry, and I’m sure Sloane and Atlas are too.

“I’m gonna get packed up to head out. I’m starving. Do you guys wanna get some food?”

“We’ll help you pack up, but I already told Sloane I’d take her out for subs. You wanna come with?”

Well, shit. They made plans without me. Which is what I wanted. Right? I want Atlas and her to have their time together. Sloane in his.

“No. I’ll take the van and get something on the way home. I’ll see you later, son. Sloane, see you tomorrow.” I grab the few tools with Atlas’ help and get them down into the van.

I shut the back doors and am met with my son leaning against the side.

“You’re jealous. Just come with us.”

“I’m not jealous. Just surprised that she so easily fell back into this comfortable space with you. But you have a history, so I shouldn’t be.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” He claps me on the back. “Don’t wait up.”

I drive home alone in the van, the silence like a heavy blanket.

I should have gone with them to dinner, I berate myself, replaying the events of the day. It was just dinner, nothing more, yet the regret gnaws at me.

With a sigh, I pull into the drive-thru lane at Taco Bell. I place my order and drive forward to the window to collect my meal. While waiting for my tacos, I pull up the app we use to communicate with our employees.

Me: Sorry to bother you on the weekend. But Atlas and I will be off site this week. We will be at another job, helping a friend. If you need us call and if it’s an emergency here is the address.

I type in the address and hit send. Instantly, thumbs-up emojis and OKs come through. Now Atlas and I can spend the week working on Sloane’s house while she is at work, or before, so it’s done and she doesn’t have to live in it for long while it’s under construction.

Arriving at the house, I park and make my way inside. I settle at the counter, my meal spread out in front of me, but my appetite is lacking. Instead, my thoughts drift to Sloane. How sexy she looked today and how eager she was to help instead of just sitting back and watching.

I eat, not even bothering to turn on the TV or play any music. The only sound is the crinkle of wrappers when I clean up after myself. With a heavy sigh, I head to the bathroom, stripping off my dusty clothes and stepping into the shower. The warm water cascades over me, washing away the sweat and grime of the day, but it does little to ease my mind.

Dressed in clean sweats, I climb into my empty bed and flick on the TV. Hours pass as I half-ass watch Gold Rush, waiting for Atlas to return.

Finally, surrendering to exhaustion, I turn off the TV and close my eyes. But just as I begin to drift off, I'm jolted awake by the sound of the door opening and voices drifting through the house.

I strain to listen, my heart pounding in my chest. Atlas speaks in a hushed tone and it’s followed by Sloane's soft laughter. They're here, together, and suddenly the pieces fall into place. Sloane must be spending the night.

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