Page 48 of Saved By the Boss

It is also fleeting. Not ten seconds later, there’s a sharp rap at the door, and I roll my eyes when I see Tawny standing there, her hands planted on her hips.

“I just heard a storm’s coming through, and this place isn’t remotely ready for it. Come on.”

She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the house, barely giving me time to lock the door before we’re speeding down the mountain, into the town below.

2

Declan

The drive into town feels longer than usual, but that’s probably because I’ve spent most of it trapped in my own head. The mountains blur into a monotony of white snow and green pines, their beauty dulled by my wandering thoughts. It’s always the same these days, like an old movie reel playing on a loop: voices I’ll never hear again, places I’ll never go back to, decisions I can never change.

The tires crunch over gravel as the cabin disappears behind me. Snow flurries scatter across the windshield, clinging for a moment before melting into streaks. It’s peaceful out here, in the middle of nowhere, but peace is a double-edged sword. It gives you space to breathe but also space to remember. And I’d give just about anything to stop remembering.

The town comes into view as I round the final bend. It’s small, just a handful of streets fanning out around a quaint downtown strip, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, or at least thinks they do. I keep to myself as much as I can, but a stranger living alone in a cabin tends to raise eyebrows.

When I first arrived, the local women tried to throw themselves at me, always making excuses to talk me up when they saw me at the tiny grocery store or in the diner. They would make excuses to come up the mountain to my cabin and make sure I was okay all alone up there. Maybe I would have even taken them up on their offer if I wasn’t so consumed with my own grief, but the names and faces all blurred together, and I didn’t want to get myself tangled up in anything.

Thankfully, they started to take the hint, and now most people leave me alone. They might wonder why I show up once or twice a month for supplies and then disappear again, but they’ve never asked.

I pull into the parking lot of the hardware store and kill the engine. Snow crunches underfoot as I step out, the cold biting at my face. The bell above the door jingles as I push it open, and the warmth inside hits me like a wave.

“Morning,” Ron, the owner, says from behind the counter. He looks up from his crossword puzzle, his wiry frame hunched over the counter like usual. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Morning,” I reply, giving him a nod. “Just need a few things.”

He waves me off, already returning to his puzzle. That’s one of the reasons I came to the hardware store first. Ron doesn’t engage in small talk and he doesn’t ask questions. He’s the kind of guy who is content to mind his own business and let others do the same.

I grab a cart and start down the aisles. Duct tape, nails, some replacement lightbulbs, batteries. Nothing exciting, just the basics to get me through the next few weeks and the storm that’s coming. As I move through the store, a feeling creeps over me.That prickling sensation at the back of my neck, like someone’s watching. I glance over my shoulder, but the aisle is empty.

Stop it, Declan. You’re being paranoid,I think to myself.

Still, I can’t shake it. I keep moving, forcing myself to focus on the list in my head, but every so often, I catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, and I lose track of what I’ve gotten and what I need. When I finally reach the checkout counter, I feel like a rubber band stretched too tight, ready to snap.

“All set?” Ron asks, barely looking up as he rings me up.

“Yeah.” I pull out my wallet, my gaze flicking toward the door. It’s quiet outside, just the usual trickle of townspeople going about their business, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.

As I step back outside with my purchases, I quickly scan the parking lot. My truck is parked where I left it, the snow piled a little higher on the windshield. A couple of cars drive by, their tires hissing over the wet pavement. Nothing unusual. No one I don’t vaguely recognize from my previous trips into town.

“Pull yourself together,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head as I load the supplies into the truck. The problem with living like a ghost for five years is that it makes you see things that aren’t there.

I slide into the driver’s seat and let out a slow breath before pulling out my phone. A handful of new messages light up the screen, most of them junk. But one stands out:

Call me. Urgent.

It’s from an old friend. Or what passes for one in my world. I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen. Instead of calling, I open the message thread.

Your brother’s looking for you. He’s not happy.

I stare at the words, my grip tightening on the phone. Of course, Patrick’s looking for me. He’sbeenlooking for me, even if he pretends otherwise. He can’t stand the idea of me being out in the world, away from his influence, living my life on my terms.

And he’s not happy? When has Patrick ever been happy? Even when we were kids, he carried bitterness around like a badge of honor. It only got worse after Dad died, leaving a void that neither of us could fill.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and start the engine. The road stretches out in front of me, empty and endless, but my mind is stuck in the past. I try not to think about it too much, about the business, about Patrick, about the mess we made of everything, but it’s harder now as I get older.

I was never supposed to be the one in charge. That was Patrick’s role. He was supposed to be the golden child, the heir to the McGregor legacy. He was the one Dad groomed, the one who knew every detail of the family business inside and out. Me? I was the kid with his head in the clouds, more interested in computers than in running a criminal empire.

I still remember the look on Dad’s face when I told him I wanted to go to college. He laughed like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke.

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