Page 2 of Dart to Me
I nod, feeling the weight of his words. This job is my second chance, maybe my last. Thompson motions for me to follow him down a corridor lined with framed architectural plans and photographs of completed projects.
“Your predecessor left rather... abruptly. Construction management requires a firm hand. Our crews need someone who commands respect.”
What he’s not saying hangs in the air. My reputation precedes me – they know exactly why I left Houston, why my knuckles are still healing from the fight that cost me everything there.
“I understand, sir,” I reply, keeping my expression neutral. “I’m here to work, not cause problems.”
He stops at a window overlooking a construction site where men in hard hats scurry like ants around the skeleton of what will eventually be a shopping complex. “That’s our Meadow View project. Your project now.”
“When do I start?”
“Tomorrow, 6 AM sharp. The foreman, Mack, will show you around. He’s good people, been with us twenty years.” Thompson turns to face me directly. “One more thing, Evans. This town has been good to me. I protect what’s mine. Cross me, and you’ll find yourself wishing you’d stayed in Houston.”
I meet his gaze without flinching. “Understood.”
The ride back to my place gives me time to think. I need this to work. The boxing career is over—doctor’s orders after that last concussion. Construction management isn’t glamorous, but it’s honest work, far from the underground fights that nearly destroyed me.
When I pull up to my house, I spot Ellie again. She’s sitting on her porch swing, reading a book, a glass of something that catches the late afternoon sun beside her. When she notices me, she offers a small wave.
“How’s the book?” I ask, nodding toward the paperback in her hands. It has a man half-dressed on the cover.
“Predictable, but sometimes that’s comforting.” She closes it, using her finger to mark her place. “How was your first day?”
“Orientation. The real work starts tomorrow.”
“Who got their teeth into you?”
“Thompson Development.”
“Lonnie Thompson has quite the reputation around here.”
I didn’t like the way she said that. Maybe I should have done some research on the company before accepting. “Good or bad?”
“Depends who you ask. The farmers whose land he’s buying up might have a different opinion than the town council that approved his tax breaks.”
I tense. Office politics already, and I haven’t even started the job. “I’m just here to manage construction sites.”
“Of course.” She steps closer to the railing. “Look, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just... people talk in Lawson Ridge, and you seem like someone who might appreciate a heads-up.”
I study her face, trying to detect any hidden agenda, but all I see is sincerity. “I appreciate that. I’m not looking for complications.”
She smiles, and something in my chest tightens. “Few people are, Mr. Evans. Yet they find us anyway.”
“Julian,” I correct her. “Mr. Evans was my father, and trust me, I’m nothing like him.”
“Well, Julian, if you ever need someone to show you around town or recommend which diner actually serves edible food, my door’s always open.”
I nod, already backing away. Getting tangled up with a neighbor is exactly the kind of complication I don’t need.
“I should finish unpacking.” I gesture toward my house.
“Of course.” She picks up her book again, but her eyes remain on me. “Welcome to Lawson Ridge, Julian. I hope you find what you’re looking for here.”
Back inside my empty house, I dump the remaining contents of my duffel onto the bare mattress. Clothes, toiletries, a worn boxing glove I couldn’t bring myself to toss, and a foldedphotograph of my mother—gone five years now. The rest of my life fits in a single cardboard box being shipped from Houston.
I shower in the lukewarm water of an ancient plumbing system, watching dirt spiral down the drain. If only the past could be washed away so easily.
That night, I dream of the fight that ended everything. The crack of bone beneath my fist. Blood on the concrete. Sirens. And eyes watching me from the shadows.
