Chapter 6 Odin
It’s a stupid idea, helping Nicola with her renovations.
A complete waste of my time. Suits and sawdust don’t mix; my assistant would have a fit if she saw the state of my jacket.
Frankly, I’ve got a million better things to do with my afternoon.
Board meetings, site visits, calls with architects, and a stack ton of emails.
Yet, here I am, covered in sawdust, trying to explain the finer points of crown molding.
And the thing is, I don’t even mind.
That’s the part that’s really messed up in my head.
I should be back at the office, barking orders and making deals.
Instead, I’m here, in Nicola’s dusty, half-renovated Victorian, trying to ignore the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way her tongue peeks out the corner of her mouth when she’s really focused, the way her laugh bubbles up when she finally gets it right, and the trim piece fits perfectly into place.
It’s… disarming. And I’m not supposed to be disarmed. I’m supposed to be in control. Always.
But with Nicola, control feels like it’s slipping. Like the grip I’ve had on my life since everything went to hell is loosening, and I’m not sure if I should fight it or let it go.
God, I need to get out of this house before I agree to rewire the damn thing for her.
The pool house. That’s the answer. I need my own space.
Somewhere that doesn’t smell like old wood and…
Nicola. Mom’s house is out. As much as I love her, and as much as Stevie adores Grandma Alice’s cookies, I can’t move back in there.
Not permanently. It’s too… domestic. Too normal.
Too much like the life I used to have, the one that got ripped away.
And buying a new place right now? Completely pointless. The pool house is perfect.
Plus, it’s already wired, plumbed, and livable. And Stevie will love it. It’s got that whole ‘secret clubhouse’ vibe that kids are into. It's way better than being cooped up in Mom’s formal living room all day.
I pull out my phone, thumbing through my contacts until I find Riley’s name. Hit dial.
“Hey, big brother,” her voice chirps on the other end. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Pool house,” I say, cutting to the chase. “I need it cleared out. I’m moving in.”
“Moving in? Like moving in moving in? What about Mom’s?”
“Pool house,” I repeat, ignoring her questions. “Today. Can you handle it?”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, “Okay, okay. Pool house it is. Anything else, Your Majesty?”
“Yeah,” I say, remembering something else that’s been nagging at me. “Find out everything you can on Greg Hoyston. Real estate guy. Curly brown hair always looks like he just stepped out of a bad cologne ad.”
“Greg Hoyston? Rivals since kindergarten, Greg Hoyston?” Riley’s voice is laced with amusement. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
“He’s sniffing around the development. Something feels off. Just dig up whatever you can. Background, deals, anything shady. You know the drill.”
“Consider it done. Though, honestly, Odin, are you sure you’re not just bored? Coming home to Redwood Hills, billionaire rock star turned property developer? Sounds like a recipe for small-town boredom and a midlife crisis.”
I grit my teeth. “Just get me the file on Hoyston, Riley. ”
“Alright, alright. File incoming. And hey,” she adds before hanging up, her tone softening. “Welcome home, Odin.”
Welcome home. It should feel good, right?
Coming back to where I grew up. Being closer to Mom, to Riley, to…
Redwood Hills. But all I feel is a knot of tension tightening in my gut.
Redwood Hills is where it all started. My music career, my band, my life with Sarah. And it’s also where it all ended.
Here, in this sleepy little town, are buried every good memory, every regret, every ghost I’ve been running from for the last three years.
And now I’m back.
Hoyston. He’s always been a thorn in my side.
Even back in high school, the guy was obsessed with one-upping me.
If I got the lead in the school play, he’d audition for the rival school’s production.
If my band won the Battle of the Bands, he’d start a competing band that played…
polka music. Seriously. Polka. The guy was ridiculous.
And relentlessly annoying. He even tried to steal Sarah back in the day.
Pathetic attempts, but still. The jealousy was always there, simmering just beneath the surface of his smarmy, used-car-salesman smile.
Now he’s a realtor. Of course he is. Probably sells overpriced bungalows to clueless city folk.
And now he’s circling my project, trying to get a piece of the action.
I can smell desperation on him from a mile away.
He sees the potential of this development, the money to be made, and he wants in.
But he’s not getting in. Not on my dime.
I pull up to the property next door, the one I’m tearing down.
It needs a lot of tlc. But the pool house is still in good shape, a low structure with a modern addition on the front, tucked away behind a screen of overgrown hedges.
It’s not much to look at, but it’s solid.
And private. Which is exactly what I need right now.
Stevie’s already here with Mom. I can hear her squealing with delight as they explore the overgrown garden.
Mom’s probably letting her pick weeds and call them flowers.
She’s always been a soft touch when it comes to Stevie.
Which is good. Stevie needs soft touches.
I’m not so good at soft touches. Gruff and efficient is more my style.
I park the SUV and get out, grabbing my overnight bag from the back. Stevie spots me and comes running, her blonde pigtails bouncing. “Daddy! Look! Grandma Alice found a frog!”
She thrusts a grubby hand towards me, palm open, revealing a tiny, green frog blinking up at me. “Cool,” I say, managing a smile. “But maybe we let him go back in the garden, huh? He probably misses his pond.”
Stevie’s lower lip trembles. “But I want to keep him!”
“We can’t keep wild animals, sweetheart,” Mom says, joining us, her own smile warm. “They need to be free. But we can visit him tomorrow, okay?”
Stevie considers this, then nods slowly. “Okay. But can we name him? Can we call him... Ribbit?”
“Ribbit it is,” I say, ruffling her hair. “Now, how about we go check out your new digs? Want to see your room in the pool house?”
Her eyes widen. “Pool house? We’re living in the pool house?” She’s practically vibrating with excitement.
Mom winks at me. “It’s going to be an adventure, sweetie.”
Adventure. That’s one word for it. Moving into a pool house while I tear down a perfectly good property and build a luxury hotel.
Dealing with Greg Hoyston, trying to avoid Nicola Williams, and trying to figure out how to be a dad without screwing Stevie up completely. Yeah, adventure sounds about right.
We head towards the pool house. The exterior is unassuming, just painted brick and sliding glass doors, a bit dated but functional.
Inside, it’s surprisingly spacious. Riley’s cleared out most of her design samples, leaving it mostly empty.
There’s a decent-sized living area, a small but well-equipped kitchen, a guest room, and a bathroom on the main floor plus a half story upstairs with a second bathroom, two bedrooms, and two generous storage closets that extend under the eaves.
Perfect for me and Stevie for the time being.
“This is awesome, Daddy!” Stevie declares, running around the living room, her small feet echoing on the tile floor. “Can we swim in the pool?”
“Not yet, kiddo,” I say, pointing out the back sliding glass doors. “See that fenced-off area? That’s the pool. But it’s getting a makeover. It’s going to be even better than before.”
Her eyes are wide again. “It’s going to have waterfalls, like in a jungle?”
“Close enough,” I say, chuckling. “More like a very fancy backyard. But yeah, waterfalls. And you can be the first one to try them out when it’s all done.”
“Yay!” She jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “I can’t wait!”
Neither can I, kid. Neither can I. This hotel, this spa, it’s more than just a business deal.
It’s a chance to rebuild something. To create something new out of the ashes of the old.
To prove to myself, and maybe to everyone else, that I’m not broken.
That I can still build, still create, still. .. live.
As I watch Stevie bounce around the pool house, a wave of determination settles in my chest. This project is just as much for her as it is for me. A new start. A new place where we can make memories that don’t feel haunted by the past.
Stevie runs off, with Mom, to inspect the small bedroom that will be hers, chattering excitedly about how she wants to decorate it with bright colors and fairy lights. I smile, listening to her innocent eagerness, and my heart warms at the thought of giving her a space to thrive and explore.
I step onto the back patio and gaze out at the empty pool area once more, envisioning the transformation that’s about to happen.
I can see it clearly in my mind: children splashing in the water, families relaxing by the wading pool, or the splash pad, laughter filling the air.
A waterfall on one wall is in the plan, too, Stevie will be happy to know .
And as I stand there, soaking it all in, I realize that maybe this is what I’ve been searching for all along—a purpose. A reason to navigate through this complicated mess of life. It’s not just about the hotel; it’s about healing and finding a way forward.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I pull it out and see a message from Riley.
“I have a team coming over soon. Any boxes or furniture you want moved out today, just let them know. Don’t forget to breathe! You got this! ??”
I chuckle at her reminder. She’s always been the supportive sibling, keeping me grounded while I try to figure things out. For her, I need to succeed. For Stevie. And maybe even for myself.
As I head back inside, I take one last look at the pool area. It might be a renovation, but it feels like a rebirth. Change is daunting, but I’m ready for it. Ready to face whatever challenges come my way, including the stubborn schoolteacher and her stubborn ideas about neighborhood preservation.
Because I can’t ignore the way Nicola Williams has been weaving her way into my mind.
Helping her yesterday was supposed to be a distraction, a brief escape from the whirlwind of projects crowding my thoughts.
But now, it’s clear that she’s much more than that.
She’s a force, and I have to admit that I’m intrigued by her tenacity and spirit.
I just hope I can keep my distance while figuring out this development. But part of me isn’t so sure that I want to keep my distance anymore.
As I walk back in, the sound of Stevie giggling and chatting fills the air, and I smile. Whatever comes next, I know I’ll face it head-on. With the determination to rebuild and to embrace this new chapter, both for myself and for my daughter.
This time, I’m not running from my past; I’m building a future.