“Hey.”
“Hey, beautiful,” I replied. “We’re home.”
His grin widened and I was helping him out of the ute and onto his scooter when Sparra came over. “Got your arm out, I see,” he said.
Justin glanced down at his arm in the cuff sling. “Yeah.”
He always moved and spoke so much slower when he was tired, and Sparra didn’t need to be told. He simply gave Juss a pat on the back. “Good to see ya, mate.” Then he gave me a quick nod. “Davo wanted to see ya when you got a minute.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back down.”
We got Justin to the bottom of the stairs but there was no way he could get himself up there. He stood up and took hold of the railing.
“Hang on,” I urged. “Let me carry you.”
“Carry me?”
“Yep.” I slung his left arm over my shoulder and slowly picked him up, bridal style. I had to be careful of his head and his leg and his right arm. It was the only way. “Hold on.”
Sparra dashed up the stairs and opened my door for me, then grinned as he came back down.
Justin chuckled and put his head on my chest. “Could get used to this.”
Yeah, he was shorter than me and smaller, and he wasn’t heavy at all. But carrying him up the stairs, kinda on an angle so his foot didn’t catch on the railing, wasn’t exactly easy. When we were inside, I gently set him down on his feet and righted myself with a groan. “Been a while since I’ve lifted weights or done cardio.”
He smiled sleepily at me. “Was fun.”
He hobbled to the couch, using his right leg as much as it would let him, and sat himself down. I got him a bottle of water while he reclined and got himself comfy. “Hey, Dall?”
I smiled at the name I hadn’t heard in far too long. “Yeah?”
“Sorry ’bout the journal,” he said, his eyes half-closed.
“What are you sorry for?”
“For not askin’ you.” His eyes drifted closed. “Just got no room for thinkin’.”
I flicked the blanket out over him and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t be sorry,” I whispered, but he was already asleep.
Chapter Four
Davo was busy under an ATV when I came down into the shop. I helped him without being asked, and together we pulled out the transmission. “How’s Jusso?” he asked, eventually.
“Good. Tired today. Doing too much knocks him around. He’ll be asleep for a bit now. Sparra said you wanted to see me?”
“Yeah, John Simpson called. Wanted to know if we’d still be right to take on his contract. Didn’t really know what to tell him. Wanted to say yes, but it’s a big job and we’re short-staffed.”
Shit shit shit. “I know. I’ll call him. I’m here for the rest of the week. Juss’s got no more appointments. Sorry for dumping all this on you.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I just didn’t want to tell him the wrong thing. I told him we were business as usual and that you’d call him back today.”
“Thanks, mate. I’ll go call him now.”
He scratched the back of his neck, nervous. “And, uh, the order for four-stroke oil didn’t go through. Something with the payment. I told them you’d call ’em back today too. We’re gonna need that by Friday.”
Fuck.
“Yeah, sure. I must’ve stuffed up the account or something. I’ll sort it out, thanks. I’ll go do that now. Then do ya need me to help you or Sparra? Or does something else need doing? Just tell me where we’re at.”
“If you wanna get started on the old Beemer. The driveshaft’s had the Richard, and the swing arm on the rear is out. He thought it was a torque reaction.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you could get it started, that’d be good.” He cringed. “Ah, boss. Thanks.”
He might have had issues with giving his boss orders, but I had no issue in taking them. “Consider it done.”
A quick phone call to John Simpson sorted out that spot fire. We needed that contract and I reassured him we’d be on top of it. He said he was sorry to hear about Justin, and I could tell he was genuine, but business was business. Something I understood well.
Then to fix the next spot fire, I logged onto my bank account. Because I wasn’t feeling like shit before . . .
I transferred what I could into the trading account and called the oil company to reconfirm the order, and that would have to do