7. Chapter 7
Chapter seven
Quinn
The sun was just starting its descent when Quinn pulled up into the absolute storm of activity around his grandpa’s house.
His house.
The house.
A large, white tent had been set up in the side yard by the back gate, full of power tools and lumber. Thick posts were being erected, attached to concrete blocks set into the ground out in front of the house, ready for the new covering to be attached to the roof. The siding was currently primed, a dull off-white that hid the original blue coloring. Quinn had agreed to repaint the exterior, but wanted it to match as much as was possible. Something had to stay the same.
“You’re here!” Mason stood in the front door, sticking half his body out and waving. “Come on up. We’ve got your mic in here so we can show you what’s up!”
Past the crew working on the porch and up the stepladder into the house. Quinn’s back stiffened and his breath caught as he looked on what had happened in just a few days. The floor was gone, just bare plywood with some kind of thick padding laid over half of it so far. Primer on the walls. The wall separating the kitchen from the hallway missing entirely. A lot more open and clean. A lot more modern, probably.
His stomach tensed and his eyes burned with the effort of holding back. Part of his brain was logical, knew this needed to be done, that it was part of the process. But it still felt like picking the scab off a wound and letting the grief flow again. It threatened to consume him, as if he could drown in the icy pain. He could never return to his grandpa’s house. Not really. It would never be his house again.
He only barely noticed as some member of production attached a lav mic to his shirt and slipped a pack onto the back of his waist.
When he stepped around the corner into the living room, Quinn’s eyes focused on strong arms jutting out from a black tank top, running a saw blade over some lumber, and he finally felt something crack through the icy numb. I shouldn’t focus on him. But I need something.
“Jake!” Mason stepped into the room as well, and the hunky guy in the black tank top turned. Sure enough, there was Jake, forehead glistening with sweat, cheeks and arms covered in sawdust from whatever board he’d been cutting down.
He smiled at Quinn, then looked over at Mason. “We doing the walk-through?”
“Yep. Unless you’re really in the middle of something.”
Jake waved his hand in the air like that wasn’t even a consideration, then swiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a streak of damp wood residue behind. And Quinn hated how endearing he found that smudge of sawdust.
Mason turned toward Quinn and smiled. “So, we’re not changing the layout of the downstairs too much. I know we went over these plans in sort of nebulous terms before we did anything, but it’s always good to show you the progress, get your thoughts. Easier to visualize the end results once things are in motion.”
Quinn nodded. Two cameras fixed on them and he did his best to ignore them. Hopefully, they’d fade into the background quickly enough so he wouldn’t keep looking directly into them. “Let’s go, I guess. Show me what’s going on.” He could do this just fine. No need to break down on camera. No need to let that out. Especially not in front of Jake. Crying because the house he asked them to fix up was getting fixed up, in front of a hot guy? No way.
Mason sighed. “We’ll run into Evander along the way, but you can see we’ve done some real work already. Opened up your kitchen as much as we could so you have a lot more light coming in. This entryway was a little claustrophobic, and it’s a little hard to see the full results right now, but this should help brighten things up, alleviate some of that.”
“I’m going to put in a custom peninsula there, so it still marks out the space.” Jake leaned on his shoulder and pointed into the kitchen, tracing an invisible line from the sink out to some point in the floor. Quinn couldn’t really focus on anything other than the hot, strong weight on him and the smell of literal wood in his nose from the sawdust clinging to Jake’s body.
“Apologies. Ran afoul of Oswald.” Evander rolled his eyes as he hauled himself up the ladder and through the front door. “How far did we get?”
“Just opening up the kitchen.” Mason looked at the camera operators. “Should we run it back with Evander here?”
Affirmations buzzed through the house. As they set up to re-record the footage, Quinn let his mind drift inward. He could withdraw safely, barely listening and moving as they reset and went through the spiel again. The only thing that broke through was Jake once again leaning over him to point out the future peninsula.
“Now, in here, I’m thinking we’ll make this very homey.” Evander gestured vaguely into the living room as he spoke. “You don’t strike me exactly as the sort of guy who wants minimalist decor. Something more comfortable, a little cozier. A place you can sit down after a long day and totally let your worries go. So texture, cushy furniture, and just like we’re doing in the kitchen, I want to use some built-ins to help cordon off the space a little more. Give you the extra light in the space, give you the option for it to be more open, but still keep it from being too overwhelming when you’re actually using it.”
It all sounded good, but even as the grief receded a bit, allowing sensation again, he struggled to visualize it. Maybe he didn’t click with the way Evander described things, or maybe he was straight up too distracted. Or hell, maybe Evander just wasn’t communicating his vision well. But Quinn nodded. Hard to disagree with words like ‘cozy’ and ‘comfortable.’
They did a very brief flash by the rest of the kitchen, then looked into the bathroom. Robinson had the walls open, squatted down, fitting pipes in where the bathtub used to be. When they stepped inside, he turned, then right himself. “Shower fitting. Last bit to set up before we can get to the tiling in here, then add the fixtures.”
“Which means we’ll need to talk colors once we finish up,” said Evander. “But in here, nothing crazy. I want to go a little more out there with your master bath, but this will be nice and functional, and give you an extra shower and some storage, just in case you need one.”
They walked out and Jake pushed to the head of the pack, opening the door to the back bedroom. What used to be the back bedroom, anyway, although as far as Quinn could remember, no one ever actually slept in there while his grandpa lived in the place.
Jake was still a little sweaty, still covered in sawdust, his arms still on display, and wearing a grin that took up most of his face. “This is where I’m putting most of my brainspace, lately: gaming room.” He paced along the wall opposite the door, around the corner by the window. “I want to build you a desk here. It’ll be well-ventilated and give you storage and display room. A good chair. And we won’t block the window, for obvious reasons, but putting it here should reduce the glare you get on your screen.” He gestured toward the other corner. “I have some ideas for the rest of the space, and I’ll run them by you, see what you’re thinking, but it would really help to know if you have any other interests. We’ll get you a place for a TV and whatever consoles you use, but that still doesn’t take it all up. This could be a general rec room or hobby room if you wanted it to be. Reading nook, place for board games, knitting. Whatever else you might be into.”
Quinn nodded again. “Yeah. Definitely.”
A beat of silence, then Jake’s smile faltered a bit. He tutted his tongue. “Uh, hey. You good? Is this a lot?”
How does he always know? Quinn couldn’t believe that he was always showing emotion that readily. He knew how to keep his shit locked down. But somehow, Jake seemed tuned in. And not shy about inquiring. “I’m okay.”
He bobbed his head side-to-side. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” It snapped out, echoing in the mostly empty room.
“Good.” Jake nodded, shifting slightly back from him. “Glad. Just wanted to check in.”
A few seconds of silence hung and Quinn couldn’t move his mouth to explain or apologize or do anything.
“Right. Let’s head upstairs.” Mason touched his shoulder briefly as he slipped back through the doorway, leading the charge.
The stupor carried along with Quinn as they headed on to the next parts of the house. More work had been done there than expected. They’d moved the master bedroom, opened it up to attach to the upstairs bathroom and closed off what used to be the door into that room. They explained why, but Quinn didn’t take much of it in. He didn’t take much of anything in, even as they headed for what was supposed to be his new office.
He did catch himself looking back to Jake over and over. Jake, with a lot less light and bubbling in his movements, his face, his voice.