Nolan

The concrete is still wet when my phone rings. Usually, I'd let it go to voicemail, we're on a tight schedule, and even though I'm the boss, I like to work alongside my crew. Leading by example and all that shit. But when I see Annabelle's name on the screen, something in my gut tightens.

"Take over," I tell Marco, wiping my hands on my jeans and stepping away from the pour.

He nods, used to my occasional need to handle business calls. But this isn't ...