Chapter 5 Knox
Igot to Cal's before dawn.
Partly because I wanted to get a head start on the framing. Partly because I was hoping to be deep in work before Daisy woke up, too focused on measuring and cutting to notice her moving through the cabin.
That was the plan, anyway.
Plans had a way of falling apart where Daisy Taylor was concerned.
I parked in the driveway and sat for a minute, hands on the wheel, watching the sky lighten over the mountains. The cabin was dark. Cal had already left for his early shift, which meant Daisy was alone in there, sleeping in the room with the window that faced the back deck.
The deck I was about to tear apart and rebuild.
I'd thought about backing out and telling Cal I was too busy and finding him someone else. But Cal had asked, and I owed him more than I could ever repay. Not because of the second chances he'd given me over the years. Because of her.
He'd forced me to walk away from her eight years ago, and I'd hated him for it.
But I'd also understood. He'd been protecting her the only way he knew how.
And maybe, in some twisted way, he'd been right.
She'd left Hollow Peak and built a life.
Gone to school, had a career and got engaged to some idiot who let her get away.
I didn't know the details of how the engagement ended and didn't want to know. But she was back now, and she was hurting, and the least I could do was build her uncle a deck without making things harder.
I grabbed my toolbox and headed around back.
The existing deck was worse than Cal had described with rotted and warped boards and support posts that were more hope than structure.
A wonder the whole thing hadn't collapsed under someone's feet already.
I started documenting the damage, making notes on what needed to be replaced versus what could be salvaged.
The sun came up. The sky turned gold, then blue. I lost myself in the work, measuring and marking, pulling up the old boards to see what was underneath.
I heard the back door open around seven.
I kept my eyes and focus on the board I was removing, the satisfying creak of old nails pulling free.
"You're early."
Her voice was sleep-rough and so familiar it hurt.
I straightened and turned.
Daisy stood in the doorway wearing a robe, coffee cup in hand, hair tumbled over her shoulders. She looked soft and warm and thoroughly unimpressed by my presence.
"I wanted to get started before it got hot," I said.
She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She just stood there, watching me with those whiskey-gold eyes.
"I'm leaving for work in an hour," she said. "Try not to make too much noise before then."
"I'll do my best."
She turned and went back inside. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
I stood there for a long moment, crowbar in hand, heart pounding.
This was going to be a long few weeks.
***
By noon, I'd torn up half the deck and sorted the lumber into keep and discard piles.
The work was good. The kind of labor that let you turn off your brain and lose yourself in the rhythm of it. Measure, cut, fit, secure. Problem, solution. No room for thinking about the woman inside the cabin, the one who'd left an hour ago without another word.
I'd watched her go as she walked to her car in scrubs and sneakers, hair pulled back, looking competent and professional and nothing like the girl I remembered.
The girl I remembered had been soft and open. Quick to laugh, quick to touch and quick to press her body against mine like she couldn't stand the space between us.
This woman was different. Harder. Guarded in a way that made my chest ache because I knew I'd done that to her. I'd let her believe I didn't care.
I wondered what else that city guy had done to her. The one with the suit and the ring. The one who'd had her for four years and somehow managed to lose her.
He was obviously an idiot to do that.
My grip tightened on the hammer.
It’s not my business or my place. I'd given up the right to be angry on her behalf eight years ago.
***
I was still on the deck, when she came home at five. I was now shirtless now because the afternoon had gotten warm despite what she'd said, sweat dripping down my back as I hauled the last of the rotted lumber to the discard pile.
I heard her car pull up. Then I heard the door slam and her footsteps coming around the side of the cabin.
I didn't stop working as I kept my back to her, lifting and carrying, letting my muscles do the talking.
Petty? Maybe. But I'd spent eight years turning myself into someone worth looking at, and if she was going to hate me anyway, she might as well hate me while noticing what she was missing.
"You're still here."
I set down the lumber and turned as I wiped my forearm across my forehead.
Daisy was standing at the corner of the cabin, bag over her shoulder, eyes carefully fixed on my face. But I caught the flicker. The quick drop of her gaze to my chest, then lower, before she forced it back up.
Good.
"Told Cal I'd get the teardown done today," I said. "Almost finished."
"Great." Her voice was flat. "I'm making dinner. There's enough for three if you're hungry."
The offer caught me off guard. I stared at her, trying to figure out the angle.
"Cal asked me to be civil," she said, reading my expression. "This is me being civil. Don't make it weird." She turned toward the back door. Paused. "Dinner's at six thirty. There's a hose on the side of the cabin if you want to wash up."
I stood there, shirtless and sweating, trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
Daisy Taylor had invited me to dinner. Not warmly, but hell, she’d invited me, and that was more than I'd expected.
I found the hose and washed up.
Maybe there was hope yet.
***
Dinner was awkward.
Cal carried most of the conversation, talking about work, the weather, the upcoming festival in town. Daisy responded in short sentences. I responded in shorter ones. The tension was thick enough to cut, and Cal either didn't notice or pretended not to.
The food was good, though. Some kind of pasta with vegetables.
Daisy had always been a good cook, I remembered.
She'd made me dinner once, that summer, in the tiny kitchen of my old apartment.
We'd eaten on the floor because I didn't have a table, and afterward she'd kissed me with garlic on her breath and I'd thought I was the luckiest guy alive.
I pushed the memory away.
"Deck's looking good," Cal said, scraping the last of his pasta onto his fork. "You work fast."
"Teardown's the easy part. Building takes longer."
"How long?" Daisy asked. Her first direct question of the meal.
I met her eyes. "Three weeks, maybe four. Depends on the weather."
I could see the resignation in the slump of her shoulders.
"That long?"
"I can rush it if you want. But it won't be as sturdy."
"No." She shook her head. "Do it right. I just..." She trailed off. Looked down at her plate.
"You want me gone," I said. Not accusatory. It was a fact.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. "I didn't say that."
Cal cleared his throat. "I'm going to get more water. Anyone need anything?"
Neither of us answered. Cal retreated to the kitchen, leaving us alone at the table.
The silence stretched.
"I don't want you gone," Daisy said quietly. "I want to understand."
My chest tightened. "Understand what?"
"You." She set down her fork and looked at me with those eyes that had haunted me for eight years. "The Knox I knew would have shown up. He would have fought for what he wanted. He would have at least explained." Her voice cracked, and she steadied it. "What happened to that guy?"
The truth sat on my tongue. Impossible to swallow.
Cal happened. Your future happened. The certainty that I'd ruin your life if I stayed.
I couldn't say any of that. Not here. Not with Cal fifteen feet away, pretending to refill a water glass that was already full.
"He grew up," I said instead. "Realized some things weren't meant to be."
Daisy flinched. Small, quick, gone in an instant. But I saw it.
"Right," she said. "Some things weren't meant to be."
She stood, gathered her plate, and walked to the kitchen without looking back.
Conversation over.
I sat there, hating myself, hating the lie, and hating the distance between us that I'd created and couldn't close.
Cal came back to the table and set down his water glass. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You should go," he said quietly. "Early day tomorrow."
I nodded as I stood and grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair.
"Thanks for dinner," I said to the room at large.
No one answered.
I let myself out.
Outside, the night was cool and clear, stars scattered across the sky. I sat in my truck for a long moment, forehead against the steering wheel, breathing through the ache in my chest.
What happened to that guy?
She wanted to know. She was asking. And I was sitting here, feeding her half-truths and watching her pull further away.
This was supposed to be easier. I was supposed to build a deck, keep my distance, survive the next few weeks without breaking. Instead, I'd eaten dinner at her table and listened to her ask the one question I couldn't answer.
I started the truck and pulled out of the driveway.
Halfway home, my phone buzzed.
Mason.
How'd it go?
I pulled over and stared at the screen.
She asked why I didn't show up that night.
A pause. Then, What did you tell her?
Nothing. Same as always.
Another pause.
Maybe it's time to change that.
I stared at the words. Read them again.
Mason didn't understand. If I told Daisy the truth, I'd be throwing Cal under the bus. Destroying the relationship she had with the only family she had left. Making her choose between believing me or believing the man who'd raised her.
I couldn't do that to her. Not again.
I put the phone down and drove home.
The cabin was dark and cold when I got there. I didn't bother with lights and just sat on the couch in the dark, staring at nothing, replaying her face when I'd said some things weren't meant to be.
She'd flinched like I'd hit her.
Because I had. With words instead of fists, but the damage was the same.
I had three or four weeks of seeing her every day, wanting her and lying to her. Three or four weeks of building something with my hands while everything else fell apart.
I dropped my head into my hands and stayed there until the sun came up.