Chapter 3 #4
“You’d let us on a real construction site?” Milo’s eyes were wide.
“Supervised. With hardhats. Safety first.” Korrad said it so automatically I knew it was a professional mantra.
“That’s the job. It was my job back in Colorado, too, making sure the guys in the mine came home in one piece.
Now, with Abydos’s company here, it’s making sure houses don’t fall on people’s heads. Same principle.”
“Abydos is the billionaire who moved all of you who worked for him?” I’d heard about him on the island; apparently he was some sort of recluse until he Mated. “That’s… a big gesture.”
Korrad shrugged. “He’s a good boss. Cares about the crew. When he shut down the mine, he offered us a way forward. Not many would do that.” He glanced at the boys. “So, treehouse. We’ll make it a learning project. Safety, planning, execution.”
“I can’t wait to execute something!” Milo crowed.
“Construct something,” I corrected gently.
“We execute plans. Or bad guys, I guess? We construct treehouses.” This was my opening to make a gentle correction from earlier.
“Speaking of which, Jay, you said the vantage point was great. Van-TIJ, but in that context it’s actually pronounced VAN-tij.
It’s a little thing, but it’s how you tell the difference between a noun and a verb. ”
All three of them were staring at me blankly. I hid my wince and soldiered on, pretending that others found grammar as fascinating as I did. “It’s like the word ‘address.’ You ADD-dress a letter, but you tell me your ad-DRESS.”
Korrad blinked. “There’s a difference?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I put on my best ‘fun teacher’ voice.
It was nice to use this knowledge for something other than snarky margin notes.
“If a homonym is a noun, you stress the first syllable, but if it’s a verb, you stress the second.
You have great CON-duct at school, but the symphony con-DUCTS a piece.
You RE-fuse to take out the trash, but you take out the re-FUSE. ”
Milo stared at me. “That’s… kind of awesome.”
“It’s pedantic,” Jay said, but he was grinning.
I was impressed he knew what that word meant.
“It’s precision,” I countered, pointing my fork at him. “Language is a tool. You want to use the right one. Like your dad with a nail gun versus a hammer.”
Korrad chuckled, a warm, rich sound. “So I can work on the treehouse PRO-ject, but also pro-JECT confidence while doing it… I’m using the same tool differently?”
I felt a stupid, radiant smile break across my face. He’d not only listened, but he’d also proved he understood. “Exactly. See? You’re a natural.”
“Don’t encourage her, Dad,” Jay groaned, but he was already testing it. “So… we SUS-pect the tree is strong enough. But we have to be sus-PECT of weak branches?”
“PER-fect!” I beamed. “You’ve per-FECTED the technique. My work here is done. Milo, you have sauce in your ear again—you’re going to need to change your shirt after dinner.”
The conversation spiraled from there, a comfortable chaos of building plans, grammar quirks, and Korrad’s stories from the construction site. He mentioned how happy Brakkor seemed lately, which made me smile, knowing my bestie was the cause.
“Jocelyn’s been up at the lighthouse every day this week, prepping it for the archeological dig that she’ll manage as the structure is being moved.”
Across the table, the boys went very still for half a second, then became intensely interested in their garlic bread. I twitched a brow at the way they snuck grins at each other.
But for now, the late evening sun slanted through the window, painting the kitchen in gold.
Korrad’s deep laugh mingled with the boys’ questions about the oak tree’s spreading limbs.
The smell of garlic and basil hung in the air.
My stomach was full. My son was happy, debating the merits of a pulley system versus a rope ladder.
For what felt like the first time since Korrad’s bonkers proposal over text, I felt my shoulders truly drop.
The constant, low-grade hum of anxiety that had been my background noise for ten years… it was gone. Replaced by the clatter of plates, the warmth of shared space, and the lovely, silly sound of my new family trying out noun-verb stresses on each other.
Maybe this wasn’t perfect. Maybe I wished Korrad and I could be more than just partners across the dinner table.
But…I couldn’t help thinking that this was pretty wonderful as it was.
In a few short weeks, I’d gone from having only Milo to worry about, and being overwhelmed by just that, to having two new people who were mine.
And somehow, with the addition of Jay and Korrad, things had become easier.
They were mine in the same way Milo was; mine to fuss over, mine to worry about.
Mine to…maybe someday love?
I wasn’t supposed to be keeping score. But as I got up to start clearing the table, and Korrad’s hand briefly covered mine on the stack of plates—a simple, casual touch—with a murmured, “I’ve got these,” I couldn’t help but feel like I was winning.