“Palmer?”

I want to say no. I don’t want to go all the way to Skoolie’s because Burt is a dick. But I also don’t want to cost Kirk a deal or a customer. That would do no one any favors, and I like my job—minus Burt.

“You know what bothers me about this?” I ask, my mouth moving awkwardly in my hands.

“No. Tell me. I mean, I’m sure I can guess, but I want to hear what you have to say.”

I get to my feet. “Do you know why Burt went behind my back and moved it to today?”

“No.”

“Because it was convenient for him.”

Kirk sighs. “He’s selling Agnello one of his personal cars, isn’t he? I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yeah, he is, and he wants the cash for that this weekend. So when I told Burt that Agnello was set up for Monday, it infuriated him. So fuck professionalism or respecting me and my job—Burt gets what Burt wants. He just rescheduled Agnello so it fit his agenda. If I go in today, he wins, and that’s what bothers me.”

“He doesn’t win. Trust me.”

“I kind of have trust issues, but thanks.”

A gentle pause drifts between us.

Kirk knows what I mean—at least vaguely. He watched my relationships with both Jared and Charlie burn to the ground. He’s heard me complain about not being in a situation to have more children and about going home to an empty house when Ethan’s at his dad’s. If anyone knows my frustration with never being taken seriously, it’s him.

But he always has treated me that way.

He could’ve fired me so many times for coming in late or looking like a swamp monster held together by ungodly amounts of dry shampoo. And heaven knows that I’ve had to leave work early multiple times to pick Ethan up from school, since Jared lives in Forest Falls and routinely doesn’t answer his phone.

So Kirk knows what I mean when I say that I have trust issues. But I also know that he means it when he says to trust him.

“Fine,” I say, my voice void of all enthusiasm. “I’ll go in. But I’m doing it for job security, and I’m still pissed about it.”

His laughter is a mix of relief and amusement. “Your job isn’t going anywhere. We’d fall apart without you.”

Don’t I know it.

“And you better deal with the moo man or I will,” I say.

“The moo man—oh! Because of that damn game.” Kirk bursts out laughing. “That’s gold, Palm.”

I grin. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes, and I’m bringing my boxing gloves just in case.”

“Palmer—thank you. For real.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I end the call. “You’re lucky you are one of the few people that I like, Kirk.” As I say those words aloud, I think about the other people I didn’t necessarily dislike this week.

Like the sexy baseball player from Fletcher’s.

His simple, four-lined text message kept me up late into the night.