#goldmining

Walking out of the trailer, the smell of diesel smacked you in the face. You headed into the mess hall, quickly grabbing a breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee before heading back out and towards Hell’s Kitchen to start the day and try to distract yourself. 

After reaching the excavator and doing your walk-around, you got in and fired up the beast. As the machine warmed up, you started to enjoy your breakfast. 

This was how all your work days started. A gas-station-equivalent sandwich and coffee while everything in the excavator got ready for the day. 

In the middle of your second bite and with zero sips of coffee, your radio crackled. 

“I don’t pay you to sit in there and have breakfast. Get to work.” 

Parker. His voice was firm and rough. The roughness in his voice caught you off guard. It was usually filled with kindness and, honestly, curiosity.

With your sandwich still in your mouth, you looked up at the ridge, and there he was. Leaned up against his truck with his arms crossed, hat pulled down, and radio in his hand. His jaw was clenched, posture stiff, and overall very mine-boss Parker. It felt like a staring contest for how long you just looked at him while he watched you. 

You finished your bite, crumpling up the rest in the wrapper and tossing it into the small garbage bag. Taking a sip of coffee to wash it down, you cleared your throat. 

“Copy that,” you said firmly. “Boss.” 

With that, you started moving the excavator to the new mound to dig for pay dirt. 

Lunch came faster than normal, probably because you were too lost in your own thoughts to notice time going by. Instead of being weird about everything, you decided it’d be best to do things as you normally did. 

After grabbing a sandwich and a bag of chips, you went and sat with Mitch and Chris. 

“Parker is in one of his beloved moods again today,” Mitch grumbled from behind his sandwich. Chris hummed in agreement. 

As if they had called him over, Parker appeared next to you.

“I am not in a mood,” he snapped. 

Chris made a face at you from across the table. You ignored him, because they weren’t entirely wrong. You weren’t sure what was going on, but he was definitely in some kind of mood. 

Parker hesitated at the chair beside you. After a second, he walked around and sat next to Chris. This, too, caught you off guard, as Parker normally sat next to you during lunch. 

While you were eating, you noticed that Parker kept talking to Chris and Mitch more than to you. You shrugged it off, pretending not to care. Meanwhile, in your head, it was a mess. Slowly, you became hyperaware of what Parker was doing, which was just eating lunch and talking with the guys. 

The whole time you were eating, you wanted to look up and see if he was looking at you, but you stuck to your guns and didn’t. You simply ate your food and then got up when finished. 

“See you guys,” you said. 

Mitch waved slightly with his mouth full. 

“See you, youngster,” Chris mumbled between his few bites of chips. 

“Later, (Y/N),” Parker said quietly. 

This almost made you stop in your tracks. Now he has decided to be nice to you?

You huffed quietly to yourself and kept walking. 

“(Y/N)!” Parker called after you. 

You stopped, not wanting to face him. But, remembering that he was your boss, you turned. A small piece of you held hope that he’d say something nice, and it would go back to normal. The tiredness in his face caught you by surprise, though. Not just from working or not sleeping enough, but also emotionally exhausted. 

“Yeah, boss?” 

“Double the amount of rock trucks that are loaded today. We’re behind and need to get pay to the plant,” he said flatly, then took a bite of his sandwich.

You stared blankly at him. 

“Do my best,” you said, then walked out of the mess hall. 

Once far enough away, knowing you’d be drowned out by the overwhelming noise of the wash plant and diesel engines. You stopped walking, putting your hands on your hips, and looking back at the mess hall. 

“What in the actual hell was that?” You muttered. 

You ran your hands over your face aggressively and groaned into them. Taking a deep breath, you headed to the excavator to try to get what Parker wanted done. 

After a couple of hours, you noticed his truck up on the ridge. Except this time, there was no Parker near it. You shrugged it off and kept loading trucks until movement caught your eye through the dusty windshield. 

Parker. 

He was heading straight toward your excavator, boots dragging through the mud left by the rain over the last couple of days. 

“This oughta be good,” you mumbled, dumping a scoop of dirt into a truck. 

While you continued to scoop dirt, you watched him from the corner of your eye. You noticed he was walking slower than his normal ‘I’ve got shit to do’ pace. His hands were deep in his pockets, radio clipped to his waist. 

Once he climbed up onto the track beside the cab, you reached over and pushed the door open. 

For a second, neither of you said anything. 

The diesel engine hummed underneath you while hydraulics whined faintly in the background. Dirt clung to the bottom of Parker’s jeans and to the edge of his boots. His hat sat lower than normal over his eyes, almost like he was trying not to be looked at too closely. 

“What’s up, boss?” you finally asked.

“Just wanted to see if you were keeping up with everything and doing double the trucks,” he said, leaning against the small door frame. 

You sat back in the seat, feeling the diesel engine vibrating through every piece of the machine and you. Glancing over at him, you noticed how tired his eyes were up close.

Not the tired you noticed earlier in the mess hall. This was different. 

His jaw was tight again, muscles flexing every couple of seconds like he was grinding his teeth without realizing it. There were faint dark circles sitting beneath his eyes, and for the first time since meeting him, Parker actually looked worn down. 

Like the weight of the entire claim had finally settled onto his shoulders all at once. 

It was almost like he was holding something back. 

You shrugged. 

“Simply doing my best.”

There was a small moment of silence. 

“I appreciate you always doing your best, (Y/N),” he said quietly, looking up at you. 

You weren’t sure if it was the way he looked at you or how he said your name, but it made your stomach do that annoying flip. 

The moment lasted longer than it probably should have. 

Parker stayed leaning against the door frame, eyes fixed on yours like he was trying to figure something out. For once, he didn't look like the boss running a gold mine. 

He just looked tired. 

Like he wanted to say something and didn’t know how. 

Your fingertips tightened slightly around the joystick. 

“Parker-”

His radio suddenly crackled softly at his hip. 

Parker’s eyes flicked down for a second before landing back on you. He opened his mouth slightly, like he was about to say something else. 

Then the radio crackled sharply against his hip. 

“Parker, you copy?”

Tyson. 

The tension in the cab disappeared almost instantly. 

Parker groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Always something…” 

With that, he hopped down and headed to his truck. 

Instead of jumping right back into the action, you watched him go back to his truck. He didn’t look back once. A second later, the engine started, and his truck disappeared up the ramp, tires throwing wet dirt behind it. 

The ridge suddenly felt empty again. 

You stared at the spot where his truck disappeared longer than you meant to before looking back at the cut below you. 

You shook your head, reached over, and turned the radio up.

“Focus and get back to work, (Y/N),” you muttered, frustration in your voice. 

At this point, you weren’t sure what to do.

One minute, Parker looked at you like there was something sitting right beneath the surface waiting to spill out. 

Next, he acted like you were just another operator on the payroll. 

It was exhausting trying to figure out which version of him was real. 

A part of you wanted to ignore it completely. Just run equipment, collect a paycheck, and be part of the crew. 

The smarter part of you probably should’ve done exactly that. 

But another part of you wanted to grab him by the front of his jacket and ask what the hell is going on inside that head of his. 

Ask why he kept pulling you close just to shove himself back behind some invisible wall. 

If you knew anything about yourself, you knew that you weren’t going to play games. 

This was an all-or-nothing situation.

Masterlist :)