Page 8 of Running Risk

CLAYTON: NOW

My thumbs tap on my knees as my eyes follow the swirls in the design on the carpet.

The gray swirl overlaps with a beige one.

Anytime I’m here and have too much on my mind, I can’t help but trace the swirls with my eyes, helping me focus on something other than the overwhelming thoughts running amok in my head.

“Clayton, you’re especially quiet today,” Dr. Wilson says, holding a clipboard with a pen ready to mark her comments.

I’ve been seeing Dr. Wilson for a few years now, and she’s helped me cope with my anxiety and past traumas.

I never knew how valuable a psychologist could be until my mind finally was able to quiet down after using her techniques.

But sometimes, my brain isn’t able to shut off enough for me to compose a solid thought.

Those are the times I am the quietest and focus on her rug.

“This week—” I take a breath and then another, closing my fists. “Rylee,” I say the last word like it’s the answer to everything. The answer to my problems. The answer to my thoughts. The answer to what my life has been missing .

She nods, understanding who Rylee is and how much she affects me. “I see.”

I stand up, walk toward the window, and hope the landscape outside will help.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I saw her.

Nothing has changed. Why did my subconscious assume that maybe, after all this time, she would be ready to move on?

She didn’t even want my help with a fucking watermelon.

Gripping the trim on both sides of the window, I say, “She still hates me.”

She writes something on her clipboard. “I’m sure seeing her was—” she pauses, wanting me to finish the sentence for her.

She always does that. Doesn’t want to put words into my mouth, so she starts the sentence and waits for me to finish it. “Dumbfounding.”

Her eyebrows raise at my response, and I take a deep breath before returning to my chair. If I’ve learned anything about Dr. Wilson, it’s that my last response just earned me a healthy round of follow-up questions.

For the remainder of my scheduled time, I do my best not to talk about Rylee, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t on my mind for the rest of the hour.

After this therapy session, I’m more raw emotionally than I usually am, but I make it to the jobsite to get to work. Thankfully, my crew can start work without me on the days I have therapy. Today, we have a side job scheduled, and I’m always happy to do work for this couple anytime they need.

“Clayton, I have sweet tea ready for your men when you have time for a break,” a woman with an elderly voice calls from downstairs.

I grin and shake my head, hammering in another plank of luxury vinyl flooring.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller hire us when they save enough money to pay for the project without going into debt.

I usually prefer bigger projects, but this family has always supported me since I took over the business.

There’s no way I’m turning them away. They also spoil us every time we’re on-site, making the men eager to do a better job.

These are the customers I love. The ones we build a connection with.

It’s what I would like this company to be known for.

“Five-minute break,” I announce.

The crew cheers, and Avery comes over, slapping me on the back. “I think Mrs. Miller has a thing for me.” Avery grins like he just won the lottery.

I scoff. “If you could be so lucky.” Mrs. Miller is an almost eighty-year-old woman. She’s always dressed to impress with some type of pearl jewelry to match her dress. Her graying hair is always curly, and she has the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on a woman.

He grips his chest. “Ouch. Is she really that far out of my league?”

Avery jumps when a large, rough hand grabs him on the back of his neck. “Yes,” Mr. Miller’s gravely voice says before chuckling as he walks toward his wife, placing a kiss on her temple.

I smile, watching the couple. I can see the love they have for each other, and it’s contagious to everyone around them.

It makes me not want to settle and to strive for a life like they have.

I’ve never seen a couple so happy except for Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, but there’s something to be said for a couple like the Millers who have been together over fifty years.

Just as the crew gets back to work, I place my cup in the sink, and Mrs. Miller comes closer. “So tell me, Clayton. What has you all glum?” Mrs. Miller crosses her arms, leveling me with a look.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I turn toward her and grin.

“Don’t think you’re fooling me.” She points her wrinkled finger at my chest. “ I see it.”

“Oh, leave the poor man alone. He doesn’t need to be crying in front of his workers.” Mr. Miller wipes down the counters with a rag.

Mrs. Miller waves off her husband. “You know, in my knitting circle, we find out a lot of things that happen around town.” She fidgets with her dress, acting like it isn’t already perfect.

“We may also have heard about a certain man carrying a watermelon as a young lady stormed after him . . . yelling.” She raises her eyebrows, trying to hide the smile playing on her lips.

I rub my hands down my face, sighing out a breath. Perfect. This is exactly what I need. Little old ladies gossiping about me in their knitting circles. That’s great for business.

Mr. Miller barks out a laugh. “I heard about that at the hardware store. I didn’t know it was you, though.”

I point over my shoulder. “I better get back to work.”

The Millers continue their chuckling before Mrs. Miller’s hand grabs my forearm. “I thought it could be the start of a beautiful love story.”

I scoff.

“Oh, you might want to listen to her.” Mr. Miller slings the rag over his shoulder. “It sounds a lot like how I picked up this fireball all those years ago.”

“You hush.” Mrs. Miller points at her husband with a twinkle in her eye. “If it’s the right person, it’ll be meant to be. Sometimes it just takes a little bit more work to make it happen.” She squeezes my arm.

Footsteps come barreling down the stairs, then Avery’s wide eyes meet mine. “Everything’s alright. I’m fixing it. Just don’t listen to the guys.” He takes off back up the stairs, and the Millers look at each other, looking like they want to laugh again.

“You definitely have your hands full with that one already,” Mr. Miller says.

I sigh. “You have no idea. I’m going to go make sure nothing’s broken.”

Mrs. Miller laughs. “You do that.”

Once upstairs, the entire crew stands around the doorway of a walk-in closet in the hall.

They get out of my way long enough for me to see that Avery is pulling up the flooring that we’ve already laid.

I take a closer look and see that two planks with the same pattern are right next to each other.

We have to remove almost the whole closet just to get to the two planks.

“What happened?”

“Avery fucked up,” the crew says in unison, pointing to Avery.

“I gathered.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Get back to work,” I say a little louder so we aren’t wasting any more time.

“I’ll fix this myself.” Avery continues removing the flooring, laying it in stacks so we can reuse it once we replace one of the planks.

“Yeah. What happened?”

He shakes his head. “It was my fault. I gave the guys the boxes but didn’t make sure they weren’t the same.”

Avery seems playful all the time, but he cares about his work.

I’m usually harder on him because one day, I would like him to become a partner in this business with me.

I don’t want all the hard decisions to be only on my shoulders forever.

He still has a lot to learn, but he’s one of the fastest learners.

These types of mistakes cost us time and money, though. Two things we don’t have.

“Get it fixed, and I’ll go pitch in with the others and make sure it doesn’t happen again.

” My fist taps his shoulder as he kneels down, continuing to gently take the flooring apart.

Thankfully, it hasn’t happened in a larger area, and it can be fixed within an hour or so, but it is going to set us back.

“Well, if you’re going to take over for me in the other room, we were just about to start a dance-off. You can go first. I know the guys will love to see you break it down.” He can’t hold back the smile from his face, knowing I would never be caught dead doing that.

I don’t doubt that’s exactly what they were getting ready to do.

Avery always brings fun to the jobsite. I shake my head, grab a rubber mallet, and walk into the other room to lend a hand.

It will be nice to get to do the physical work for once and not just the paperwork part of the job.

A lot of the time, I miss being just one of the crew, especially being able to go home without thinking of how I’m going to bring in more money so the business doesn’t go under.