Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Eight: Try to Fail Upwardly

Hawk and Piper drove through the night toward the Nevada border, where his business was based. For once, they barely spoke. Piper messaged Sofie to apologize for Brody’s behavior. Sofie replied with kindness, understanding Piper’s position and offering forgiveness without hesitation. Brody, on the other hand, didn’t reach out at all. Piper assumed he was with his men’s-club buddies—probably drinking, probably bashing her. It was their favorite pastime and, as far as she could tell, the only thing they ever seemed capable of.

As they neared the final stretch of the drive, Piper began to take in the details of Hawk’s truck. In the back seat, the upholstery dipped slightly, as it had once held a booster seat. On the passenger-side visor mirror, there was an old lip-gloss smudge, faint but unmistakable. Dena had been right. Hawk had some explaining to do.

“There’s a park nearby,” Hawk said after a while. “We could stop and check it out.”

Piper agreed, secretly relieved. They were pulling over just as the sun began to rise.

They turned into an isolated, nearly forgotten bird sanctuary—off the beaten path, quiet, and unexpectedly beautiful. Aside from an elderly wildlife photographer, they had the place to themselves. The cool morning air felt cleansing, as if the weight of the last few years was slowly lifting, dissolving into a fragile, welcome forgetfulness.

Hawk tried to break the silence. “That was crazy back there, right?” he said lightly.

Piper shrugged. “If you knew Brody, you’d expect it. The narcissism. He always has to be the center of attention. It’s what got me fired—and what got me stuck with him.”

Hawk kept pace beside her. “Why not be with someone who isn’t like that?”

She hesitated, then answered honestly. “I was waiting it out. Waiting for a better job, or somewhere I could afford on my own. Brody and I are more of a partnership than a couple. You know?” Hawk looked like he had something to say. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. “Hmm,” was all he offered.

They walked the two-mile loop around the marsh in silence after that. Piper didn’t want to risk an argument—or worse, a conversation that would force them back into the mess she’d left behind. She chose not to ask Hawk the hard questions: where he’d been, what he wasn’t saying, who else existed in the quiet spaces of his life.

For once, she wanted to be agreeable. She wanted to feel the way she had when they first met—when everything seemed possible, when she believed she’d be rising, not just surviving. She didn’t want to admit she was juggling three part-time jobs and still barely scraping by.

Hawk filled the silence with a story about how he’d found the place years ago. A road closure, a wrong turn he’d thought was a detour, and suddenly he’d ended up here. Before Piper realized it, they were standing at the end of the trail, on a small viewing deck overlooking the marsh. Fog clung low to the ground while the sun pushed through lingering clouds.

Wanting to avoid a question she might regret, Piper chose a safer one. “So,” she said, “what’s the story with your company?” Hawk scoffed softly, the way he always did when he didn’t want to answer directly. “When I got out of the Marines, none of those so-called cushy federal jobs were hiring. Same with the contractor gigs. I thought I was just unlucky—until I realized everyone had the same story.”

He stared out over the marsh, lost somewhere in the past. “I started doing construction work just so I wouldn’t have to re-enlist. One thing led to another. I hired one guy, then another, because I was sick of seeing vets living like beggars. It’s dehumanizing. I kept taking on more work for them. Eventually, I used the contacts I’d built to cut out the middleman. And now… here we are.”

Piper considered that. “You make it sound like it snowballed on you—like it wasn’t something you actually wanted.” Hawk pulled his phone from his pocket and showed her the screen. “I’ve got 137 missed alerts since last night alone. It never stops. I’m exhausted all the time. And with this economy, if I don’t keep expanding, the whole thing could collapse.” She looked at him. “Do you want that?”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “I’d feel like a failure if I didn’t.”

The truth of it landed sour between them. They turned back toward the parking lot without another word. Inside the truck, Piper leaned her seat back to get comfortable. As she did, a sippy cup rolled out from behind the floor mat. Hawk reached for it, but Piper picked it up first and handed it to him. “And here I thought I could sneak that past you,” he said with an awkward laugh. She smiled faintly. “I already knew.” Then she pointed to the small scuff marks along the armrest. “You know, for the longest time, I wished it were you. That you’d come out here and stay with me. But you never did. Why didn’t you want me there?” Hawk frowned.

Piper could have listed a million reasons. She didn't want to get married or have kids among the top priorities to bring up. Instead, she said, “Because we aren’t a real couple. We’re friends with nothing in common. That’s why we fight when we’re together too long.”

Hawk interjected, “You don’t know that,” he said. “You never gave me the chance to try.”

Piper met his eyes, steady and certain. “If you had, I’d resent you the way I resent Brody. You’re burned out—but you love your family. That’s why you pulled it together. That’s why you took those first jobs. You built all of this for them. Not for me.”

She exhaled sharply. “I know I’ve been bad to you. That’s on me. But I don’t understand your life, and I don’t know how to support you in it. And if I stay too long, I just make things worse.” Hawk sat there with the ignition off, quiet and still, as if absorbing the inevitability of it all. Piper rested her hand on his shoulder. “We both have to go home.” He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I guess this is it.” She nodded. “It is.”

It was bittersweet—but clear. Piper didn’t need every detail of Hawk’s life. She knew enough to understand they were never meant to fit. Hawk drove her a few miles off the freeway to a rental car place and paid for a car so she could get herself home.

They hugged one last time—this time knowing they couldn’t be friends without hurting each other, or themselves.