The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the light peeking through my window and that is a good sign that something is wrong. That I seriously fucked up. It is never bright like this when I get up in the mornings to get ready for work.

Shit. This can't be happening. I look for my phone in the pocket of my trousers on the pile on the floor and realize that it is nine o'clock and that I'm late for work. So fucking late. Dylan is going to kill me.

Secondly, I'm sweating and shaking, my stomach is in knots, and body confused with the strange position I slept in. I feel trapped, more alone than I had in my whole life. I forgot Maya's birthday. The guilt that consumes me constantly is overwhelming. I should've seen more of the signs and been able to save her. She was so close to freedom. So close to being an adult and being able to make it.

In my dreams, I'd been looking into her. She was smiling at me but then the smile turned into an empty black void that kept whispering failure failure failure then her face vanished and Dylan had taken place. Failure, he said to me too.

The ride to work is a blur but even half asleep I make it alive. Gravel crunches under my tyres as I pull into a parking lot already crowded with the construction crew's vehicles. I hop out and run quickly around the cabin in hopes Dylan still hasn't left his trailer for his morning rounds.

"You're late." I'm out of luck, of course. A scowling Dylan in front of me puts an abrupt end to the little hope I had.

"Sorry. Hit unexpected traffic." I say the most ridiculous thing knowing it will piss him off even more. I'm not sure why.

His silence is powerful. He seems even more imposing today. He picks up a few items from the workstation and takes long, measured steps toward me, his stare never leaving me. My breath is trapped in my lungs. I can't figure out why he had this effect on me. He was gorgeous, that much was obvious but I'd seen a hundred hot guys in my life, and this, looking at him, had nothing to do with sex appeal. He looks as lonely as I feel. Maybe lonelier. It is stupid to think that I can see that in him. I didn't know this man. But I sensed his fierceness, his detachment from the world and while that should push me away all it did was draw me in.

For the first time in a long time, maybe since I snorted coke up my nose or shot heroin into the veins those initial times, I was interested in something, felt something other than emptiness. And it happened when I was in the presence of this man.

My feet are rooted to the floor as he walks around me. Get it together, Noah. You're making a fool out of yourself.

"Pick up that flat cart and follow me."

I obey him.

"You'll finish the whole thing." My eyes are wide when I see the size of the material that has to be unloaded from our most recent delivery.

"I'm not your fucking slave. I can't possibly finish all this today." My pulse thrums in my neck but I do my best to keep breathing even.

"If you came to work on time maybe you would."

"You clearly get off on torturing me."

Dylan's head snaps up at my words. He walks towards me, towering over me. Fire buzzes in the tight space between our bodies, and I'm enchanted by the glimmer of bright blue eyes.

"When you finish the shift today, meet me in my trailer." He says in a voice as cold as the harshest winter.

"Why?"

"Just do as you're told. I'm done talking to you until then."

He steps back and my heart rattles in panic. As much as Dylan's bossy, angry voice is a turn on a regular day, today it affects me completely differently. This is not good. The rest of the crew keeps giving me looks as I bust my ass trying to finish.

By the time the clock ticks five, I'm sure I am going to pass out. I want to crumple into a heap on the floor. Sink and disappear into the earth. I'm pissed off and tired. Finally, I climb the metal steps, and without bothering to knock on Dylan's door I enter the trailer and stand right in front of his desk where he's working on his computer.

"Sit." He doesn't look at me.

"I'm not your dog, Dylan. I'm good standing."

He gets up from his chair, most probably to assert his authority. I won't take his ordering around anymore.

"After careful consideration, unfortunately we won't be able to continue having you on this project."

"What?" Each fast heartbeat pumps hot blood into my aching skull, making this moment feel like forever. What does he mean? I rub my face and look in trepidation awaiting another blow to my heart.

"You're fired."

"No. You're kidding me."

"Noah..."

"You can't do this," I think of Uncle Paul and Auntie Adel. How disappointed they will be in me after what they've been doing for me.

"You'll go to the town office on Monday to have a meeting with HR so you can get the money for the days you've been working here."

I shake my head but he doesn't stop talking. "I can't tolerate you coming to work late and drunk."

"I'm not drunk!" I seethe.

"I can smell it on you from over here." He says stiffly. Like he's embarrassed for me. "And that's not all. You've been distracted. You weren't able to complete simple tasks. I have to pull other people from their jobs in order to help you and I can't afford slowing the project down. We are a small team as it is."

His mouth is pressed into a thin line. "That doesn't mean you won't be good at some other job." He reaches for his notepad and scribbles something on it. "Here. I got a buddy in the next town over, owns a garage. He usually takes on apprentices, helps them get set up with a trade school. He'll do me a favor. I'll call him, set something up for you."

He passes me the paper with a name, address and phone number. "You can keep the truck."

I don't cry. I haven't in years. Not even on Maya's grave. But I am so close now, I can feel my eyes burning.

All I can do is run because letting Dylan see my tears would destroy me completely.

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