Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Noah woke to the familiar sound of the house groaning, everything shifting and settling in the predawn chill. He lay still for a moment, cataloging each creak and noise, now hyperaware of their meaning after Luke’s inspection yesterday. However, he was somewhat mollified that the sounds weren’t something actively crumbling around him.
Luke had explained the worst of the problems, constantly reassuring him the structure itself was fine. Well, mostly fine. Somewhere down the hall, a pipe knocked against the wall—probably the one Luke had assumed was improperly secured, held in place by what he’d called “hopes, prayers, and maybe some ancient chewing gum.”
Luke. Freaking. Garrett.
Noah pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to push away the memories of strong hands running over every surface of the house, a gentle voice explaining complex repairs to Eli, Luke’s shirt plastered to his chest when the pipe burst…
And dammit all to hell, Noah would think of him every time he saw the growth chart in the sitting room. Who knew the carefree handyman had a soft spot in his heart for little traditions? Noah made a mental note to ask him if there was a way they could preserve that bit of nostalgia. Maybe he’d add his own son’s growth, creating a living history of the children who’d called this home over the decades.
“Stop it,” he muttered, throwing back the covers. He didn’t have time for…whatever this was. Attraction? Curiosity? Some kind of delayed sexual crisis? He had a six-year-old to get ready for school, a house falling apart around them, and a stack of essays waiting to be graded.
The hardwood floor was cold under his feet, another item on Luke’s endless list of issues to address. The original floors could likely be refinished, he’d said, running his fingers along the grain in a way that had made Noah’s mouth go dry. But that was just professional appreciation for the craftsmanship. Nothing more.
Right.
Eli was already awake when Noah reached his room, sitting cross-legged on his bed with Luke’s notebook open in his lap. He’d refused to let go of it last night, insisting he needed to add more details to his disaster map.
“Morning, buddy.” Noah leaned against the doorframe. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh-huh.” Eli didn’t look up from his drawing. “I had a dream about the laser level. It could shoot through walls and find treasure! Do you think Mr. Luke would let me use it to look for gold?”
“I don’t think that’s quite how it works.” Noah moved to the window, wrestling briefly with the stuck latch. Luke had said something about the frame being warped, about wood expanding and contracting with temperature changes. He’d explained it all so patiently, making even structural issues sound interesting. “Come on, time for breakfast. You can work on your map later.”
“But, Dad, I need to add the weird noise the stairs make! Mr. Luke said documentation is super important.” He stumbled over documentation , but it was good to know he’d listened.
“Documentation can wait until after breakfast.” Noah herded Eli toward the bathroom. “Teeth brushed, clothes on, then breakfast. You know the drill.”
In the kitchen, Noah started the coffee maker—another appliance Luke had eyed with concern, muttering something about outdated wiring—and pulled pancake ingredients from the cabinets. Eli only ever wanted cereal on weekdays, but pancakes were their Saturday tradition. Even if this particular Saturday felt different, weighted with the knowledge of everything wrong with their home.
“Can we put chocolate chips in them?” Eli appeared in the doorway, shirt on backward and hair sticking up in wild peaks. “And whipped cream? And sprinkles?”
“One sugary addition, that’s the rule.” Noah helped him fix his shirt. “Otherwise, you’ll be bouncing off the walls all morning.”
“But Mr. Luke said sugar gives you energy for working! And we’re gonna be working on the house, right? He’s coming back today?” Noah wasn’t entirely comfortable with how often Eli brought up something Luke had said. If he did have Luke work on the house, he might have to consider relaying any important parenting information through the man to ensure his son truly listened.
Noah’s hands stilled on Eli’s shoulders. “Not today, buddy. He needs to make a plan first, figure out what to fix and when. He’s going to come over tomorrow, but only to talk to me about what we need to work on first.”
“But he’s going to fix everything, right?” Eli’s expression turned serious. “He promised.”
“He’s going to help us fix things,” Noah corrected gently. “But it’s going to take time. And money.”
“I have money!” Eli darted back to his room, returning with his piggy bank. “See? I’ve been saving for a new bike, but the house is more important. Tommy said there are bike elves in town. Maybe you could tell them I gave you my bike money to fix the house, and they can help me get a bike.”
Something caught in Noah’s throat. He crouched, meeting his son’s earnest gaze. “That’s really thoughtful, buddy, but your bike fund is yours. Dad’s got this covered.”
He hoped it wasn’t a lie. The numbers Luke threw around yesterday had made his head spin, even with the promise of spreading the work out over time. But he couldn’t let Eli worry about that. His job was to provide stability, to make their home safe and comfortable. Even if that meant accepting help from someone who made him question everything he thought he knew about himself.
“Can I still help Mr. Luke when he comes back?” Eli set his piggy bank on the counter with exaggerated care. “He said I was a good helper.”
“We’ll see.” Noah turned back to the pancake batter, using the familiar motions to ground himself. “First, we need to get through the weekend. Speaking of which, we should call your mom later, tell her about the house.”
David thought it was strange Noah was so open with his ex-wife about the issues with the house he’d bought for pennies on the dollar. Then again, if Jenna was like David’s ex, he might feel the same way. Luckily, Jenna lived to hear about the latest nightmares at the house. She’d stifle her amusement, tease Noah about how trying to avoid a huge mortgage payment on something newer was biting him in the ass. Over and over and over again. Then again, she was the real dreamer between the two of them, and she’d fallen in love with the place when he’d sent her pictures. She’d looked beyond everything that clearly needed to be fixed to the framework beneath, the history. She was a lot like Luke in that way.
“Can I show her my map? And tell her about the Super Soaker pipes?”
Noah winced at the memory. “Maybe leave out the part where we flooded the kitchen. We don’t need a lecture from her about wasting water.”
“Yeah, she wouldn’t like that at all.” Noah chuckled when Eli sighed and shook his head. Jenna was currently away on a long-term assignment to help with water conservation efforts out west. She only truly got worked up when talking about how the planet had finite resources and people didn’t seem to care.
The first pancake sizzled on the griddle, filling the kitchen with a sense of normalcy. But even this familiar routine felt different now, colored by the awareness of everything that needed fixing. The cabinets Luke had said were barely hanging on their hinges. The window over the sink that didn’t quite close, letting in a draft. The floor slanting slightly toward the back wall, evidence of settling that went beyond normal aging.
“Dad?” Eli’s voice pulled him back to the present. “You’re burning it.”
Sure enough, smoke curled from the edges of the pancake. Noah flipped it quickly, revealing a charred bottom. “Sorry, buddy. Got distracted.”
“Thinking about the house?”
“Something like that.”
Eli accepted his plate of slightly crispy pancakes without complaint, drowning them in syrup while Noah poured himself a second cup of coffee. The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window. Luke had noticed the window yesterday, commenting on its wavy glass and original brass hardware.
“They don’t make them like this anymore,” he’d said, appreciation evident in his voice. “We’ll need to restore these, not replace them.”
We . Such a simple word, but it wrapped around Noah’s chest like a vise. When was the last time he’d thought of home repairs—of anything, really—in terms of we instead of I? Even before the divorce, everything had fallen to him. If it wasn’t simple enough to fix with the help of YouTube , it was his responsibility to call the appropriate service provider and be there when the repairs were done. Jenna hadn’t wanted to deal with handypersons because she hated how so many of them heard a woman’s voice and saw dollar signs.
“Dad?” Eli’s voice broke through his thoughts again. “Can we get a tool belt like Mr. Luke’s? Tommy says his dad has one, but Mr. Luke’s is way cooler.”
“We’ll see.” Noah sipped his coffee, trying not to think about how Luke’s tool belt had hung low on his hips or how his hands had moved confidently as he examined each problem area. “Finish your breakfast, okay? We need to straighten up before Grandma and Grandpa call.”
“But they’re boring,” Eli protested. Noah couldn’t disagree. They called every week as if that would somehow fill a void in his and Eli’s lives, but really, it was the part of the weekend both of them dreaded. “They just talk about their bridge club and ask if I’m reading enough. I bet Mr. Luke tells way better stories.”
Noah couldn’t argue with that. His parents meant well, but their idea of connecting with their grandson involved quizzing him about academic progress and sending books about famous scientists. They’d probably have opinions about the house too—about Noah’s decision to buy it, about accepting help from someone they’d consider “just a handyman.”
The thought made something protective flare in his chest. Luke wasn’t just anything. He was skilled, patient, good with Eli…and completely off-limits. Not only because he was doing work on the house, but because Noah wasn’t…he didn’t…
He wasn’t even sure who he was trying to lie to at this point. Or why it mattered. His parents had never been outwardly homophobic, but their views on anything that broke their heteronormative expectations were clear. He wasn’t sure what he was, but he found himself thinking about Luke far too often to insist he was straight. Then again, that wasn’t anything new. His fascination with Luke confused the hell out of him when he was a teen too.
The coffee suddenly tasted bitter. Noah set his mug down, focusing on cleaning up breakfast dishes instead of examining that particular train of thought. He had enough to deal with without adding an identity crisis to the mix.
But as he watched Eli carefully add another detail to his disaster map, Noah couldn’t help wondering what Luke would think of the finished product. Would he smile the easy smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners? Would he crouch next to Eli, pointing out details he’d missed?
Would he look at Noah the way he had yesterday, with a mix of professional assessment and something warmer, something that made Noah’s skin feel too tight?
“Stop it,” he muttered again, but this time, the words felt hollow. Like the house itself, some things couldn’t be fixed by sheer force of will.
He just wasn’t sure if that terrified or thrilled him.
Noah hadn’t slept well Sunday night. The budget discussion with Luke had been sobering to say the least, and every time he closed his eyes he imagined the house crumbling around them before he could come up with the money. His exhaustion was making for a miserable Monday morning.
The whiteboard marker squeaked as Noah underlined the phrase the green light for what felt like the hundredth time. Twenty-five pairs of teenage eyes stared back at him with varying degrees of engagement, most of them glazed with the type of exhaustion that came from discussing symbolism during first period on a Monday.
“So,” he tried again, “what does Gatsby’s obsession with the green light tell us about his character? About his relationship with Daisy?”
Silence stretched across the classroom like saltwater taffy, sticky and resistant. Then, from the back row, “He’s, like, super invested in something that isn’t worth it?”
“Interesting perspective, Jessica.” Noah set down his marker. “Can you elaborate?”
“Well…” Jessica straightened in her seat, warming to the topic. “He spends all this time and money trying to get this perfect life he imagined, but it’s not even real. The Daisy he wants doesn’t exist anymore, if she ever did. But he can’t let go of this dream he built in his head.”
Something about her words hit uncomfortably close to home. Noah thought of his own green light—the perfect house he’d imagined creating for Eli, the way reality had crumbled his dreams like rotted wood. Nothing in his life existed the way he’d once seen it, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it ever had.
“Mr. Thompson?” Another student—Marcus—raised his hand. “Is it kind of like when you want something so bad you don’t see how impossible it is until it’s too late?”
“That’s…” Noah’s phone vibrated in his pocket, derailing his train of thought. “That’s an excellent observation. How does this relate to the American Dream theme we discussed last week?”
Noah couldn’t say he’d managed to stay focused through the rest of the class, but he’d faked it well enough that the students didn’t realize his mind was still at home. He finally checked his phone during his planning period. He should be grading essays, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Luke.
Just checking in. Got some quotes from suppliers. Let me know when you want to go over more concrete numbers.
Simple. Professional. So why did Noah’s pulse quicken as he read the words? This was getting ridiculous.
“Earth to Noah.” Sarah appeared in his doorway, carrying two cups of coffee. “You looked like you could use this.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” He accepted the cup gratefully, trying to ignore how his phone seemed to burn in his pocket. “Though I’m pretty sure the teacher’s lounge coffee isn’t technically classified as a controlled substance.”
“Hence why I made a coffee run on my way back from Tabatha’s appointment with Dr. Channing.” She settled into one of the student desks, eyeing him over the rim of her cup. “So, how’d the contractor visit go? You said he was coming back over the weekend to drop off the official diagnosis?”
“Yeah, he stopped by Friday night, giving me the whole weekend to wonder what in the hell I’ve gotten myself into.” Noah took a long sip, buying time. “He’s…thorough.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sarah’s knowing look made him squirm. “And?”
“And what?”
“And how are you handling having someone else in your space? Someone who’s probably going to be around a lot, working closely with you, maybe even—” It was hard to keep from squirming under her laser-focused stare. They hadn’t been particularly close when they were younger, but as adults, they’d become fast friends more than simply coworkers. That was why he had to be careful what he said around her.
“It’s fine,” Noah interrupted. “He’s professional. Good with Eli. Knows what he’s doing.”
“I notice you didn’t mention how he looks in a tool belt.” She wiggled her eyebrows and let out a heavy sigh. Being married apparently didn’t keep her from appreciating good-looking men. And he supposed her husband couldn’t complain too much if she was checking out gay guys since they didn’t pose a threat to his marriage.
Coffee went down the wrong way, and Noah spent several undignified moments coughing. “That’s not…I didn’t…”
“Honey.” Sarah’s voice gentled. “It’s okay to notice things. To feel things.”
“I don’t…” Noah set his coffee down before he could choke again. Sarah was too damned perceptive. Or maybe he’d been lying to himself his entire life. He groaned as he imagined finally admitting he was confused by the way he couldn’t stop thinking about Luke and having those he was closest to look at him like he was slow on the uptake. “It’s not like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like anything.” He stood, needing to move. “He’s just helping with the house. That’s all.”
Sarah watched him pace, her expression thoughtful. “You know, when Jack and I first started dating, I spent three months convinced I was just appreciating his big brain. I didn’t want to fall madly in love with him, but he eventually wore me down.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?” She gathered her things, pausing at the door. “Just…be honest with yourself, Noah. Maybe the reason you and Jenna felt more like friends than lovers was because she wasn’t actually your type. Not that you’d know it looking around now, but Maple Hill hasn’t always been the most LGBT-accepting place in the world. Hell, I’m not sure we even had half the language we do now to describe sexuality and identity. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay to explore it.”
“There’s nothing to explore.” But the words felt hollow, like the water-damaged walls of his house. He gathered the stack of papers that apparently wouldn’t be graded before his next class, shoving them into his messenger bag. “I need to prep for next period.”
“Sure.” Sarah’s knowing smile followed him back to his desk. “But maybe think about why you’re so defensive about something that’s ‘nothing.’”
Noah pulled up his lesson plans, determined to focus on work. But his mind kept drifting to last week—to strong hands, to patient explanations of complex repairs, to how Luke’s smile seemed to light up even the darkest corners of the house. His traitorous mind couldn’t help itself. Something about Luke’s damned hands filled Noah’s head with thoughts of all the other things he could do with them. To him.
“Dammit,” he muttered, reaching for his phone. The message still waited, casual and professional.
Just checking in. I swear I’m not trying to be pushy, but we have a big order coming in later this week, and I figured I could add whatever I need for the first project at your place.
It didn’t take long before another message came through.
Unless you’ve decided to go a different route.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. Did Luke seriously think Noah wasn’t going to hire him? The quote he’d given was appallingly low. Noah would’ve been a fool to put things off long enough for Luke to realize how badly he’d undervalued his work.
Sorry, I can’t answer when I’m in class. I have to set a good example for my students. Are you available tonight? I have a pan of lasagna ready to put in the oven, and I’m sure there’s enough for you to join us. We could talk over dinner?
He hit send before he could overthink it, then immediately wished he could take it back. Was that too eager? Too casual? Should he have suggested a specific time?
His phone buzzed again.
A historic home AND carbs? How could I possibly refuse? Can bring some samples, show you options for the kitchen cabinets.
Noah’s stomach did something complicated. Tonight. That was…so soon. But Eli would be there, a buffer between whatever this strange tension was. And they needed to discuss the repairs, make actual plans instead of just cataloging disasters.
Sounds good. 6 p.m.? I know it’s late, but Eli has 4-H right after school.
Perfect. See you then.
Noah set his phone down, pressing his palms flat against his desk. This was fine. Professional. Normal. Just two adults discussing house repairs. The fact that one of those adults happened to be unfairly attractive and surprisingly good with kids was irrelevant.
The bell rang, startling him. Students began filing in for his American Literature class, slumping into their desks with the dramatic flair unique to high school seniors.
“All right,” Noah said, forcing his thoughts away from Sunday afternoon. “Who’s ready to continue our discussion on the symbolism of the valley of ashes?”
Groans filled the room, but Noah ignored them. He might be the only one in the room who was happy to diver into more literary analysis. This was what he knew—literature, analysis, guiding young minds through complex themes. Not house repairs or unexpected attractions or questioning his entire identity because of the way someone’s freaking hands looked.
But as he wrote quotes on the whiteboard, he couldn’t help thinking about Jessica’s words from earlier. About wanting something so badly you can’t see how impossible it is. About green lights and dreams and the things we tell ourselves we can’t have.
“Mr. Thompson?” A student’s voice pulled him back to the present. “You wrote the same quote twice.”
Sure enough, he’d duplicated the line about ashes and dreams. Heat crept up his neck as he erased one copy. “Right. Thank you, Tyler. Now, let’s think about what this imagery tells us about the characters’ hopes and fears…”
The discussion picked up momentum, but part of Noah’s mind remained stuck on tonight. Knowing Luke was bringing over cabinet samples made this feel way too real. Noah knew the work had to be done, and he agreed it would be nice to have the kitchen completed as a hub of the home, but it felt big.
Too big.
And what in the world had he been thinking, inviting Luke to join them for dinner? Would that send the wrong message to Eli? Noah needed to tread very carefully.
His phone buzzed again—probably Luke with more details about supplies or scheduling. Noah left it in his pocket, focusing instead on his students’ interpretations of Fitzgerald’s metaphors. He had enough symbolic green lights in his life without adding another one to the mix.
“And then the Super Soaker pipes went whoosh!” Eli’s hands flew up, nearly knocking his tablet off the kitchen table. On the screen, Jenna’s laugh crackled through the speakers. “Mr. Luke said he’s never seen anything like it!”
“I bet he hasn’t.” Jenna’s eyes found Noah’s over their son’s head, even through the video call. Noah sat back while Eli spent some quality time with his mom. He’d been heartbroken when they’d missed their weekly call on Saturday because Jenna hadn’t had cell service. When she asked if it would be okay to call after school, Noah had decided to have Eli skip 4-H this week. Seeing his son’s beaming smile, he knew he’d made the right decision. At least he was able to do something right. “Sounds like quite an adventure.”
“Yeah! And look at my disaster map!” Eli held up Luke’s notebook, now covered in crayon additions. “See the red X’s? Those’re all the emergency spots. And the green circles are where treasure might be hiding behind the walls!”
“Treasure, huh?” Jenna’s smile softened. “And this Mr. Luke, he’s going to help find it?”
“He’s gonna fix everything.” Eli’s confidence made something twist in Noah’s chest. “Livy’s aunt says he’s the best fixer person in town. Even better than Tommy’s dad’s guy!”
“Is that so?” Another knowing look from Jenna. “Eli, honey, can you go get ready for dinner? I need to talk to Dad about boring grown-up stuff.”
“But, Mom?—”
“Ten minutes,” Noah cut in. “When you’re cleaned up, you can help me with the garlic bread.” He stopped himself from reminding Eli that Luke was coming over for dinner, even though that would have had him racing to get ready.
Once Eli had thundered up the stairs—making enough noise for three children—Jenna’s expression turned serious. “Noah, can you afford all this?”
“I’m figuring it out.” He ran a hand through his hair, a habit she’d always teased him about. “Luke’s willing to spread the work out, prioritize the critical repairs.”
“Luke.” She tested the name like a new flavor. “He’s Megan and Rachel’s little brother, right?”
“Yeah.” Noah focused on gathering Eli’s scattered art supplies.
And maybe a new friend? Noah felt the first twinge of a tension headache coming on.
“He knows what he’s doing.” Jenna pursed her lips, obviously not believing the happy-go-lucky boy she’d known was now a capable professional. Noah couldn’t blame her since he’d felt the same reservations at first. “He’s not a kid anymore. He works with Keaton Anderson, who took over his dad’s company. You know Keaton’s dad wouldn’t have kept him on if he was a cut-up.”
“I’m sure he’s plenty talented .” Something in her tone made him look up. “And you’re sure this is only about the repairs? I’m not sure how I feel about him being the sole focus of Eli’s attention tonight. How much time have the two of you been spending together?”
Not Jenna too. This had to be some cruel joke, right? Twice in one day, he’d had someone allude to him being attracted to Luke. Was he that transparent, or was he blind to the truth?
“What else would it be about?”
“Noah.” Her voice gentled the way it did when he was being particularly dense. “I know you. You have a soft spot for anyone who treats Eli well, which is great, but you have to be careful.”
She wasn’t wrong. Noah hadn’t dated much since their divorce, but the two women he did have relationships with both lasted longer than they should have because of how they were with their son. But he wasn’t looking for a relationship with Luke.
“That’s not—” He stopped, swallowed. “It’s not like that.” God, he was starting to sound like a broken record.
“Like what?”
Like the way his chest had tightened watching Luke explain simple repairs to Eli, patient and engaged. Like the flutter in his stomach every time Luke’s name appeared on his phone. Like the dreams he’d rather not examine too closely.
“He’s helping with the house,” Noah said finally. “That’s all.”
“Okay.” Jenna clearly didn’t believe him. “But if it was something else…you know that would be okay, right?”
The pencils in his hand suddenly felt very important to organize by color. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Noah.” His name again, soft and knowing. “Remember junior year? When you couldn’t stop talking about that guy in your study group?”
“Marcus was just—” He stopped. Funny how he’d known exactly who she was talking about. Maybe it was time to admit he wasn’t as straight as he’d led everyone—himself included—to believe. “That was different.”
“Was it?” Papers rustled as she shifted. “Because I remember thinking then what I’m thinking now: maybe there are parts of yourself you haven’t let yourself explore.”
“I loved you.” The words came out fiercer than he intended.
“I know you did. Just like I loved you.” Her smile turned sad. “But loving someone doesn’t mean you can’t be attracted to others. That you can’t be who you really are. And honestly, I’m not sure you ever would have allowed yourself to explore an attraction to anyone who wasn’t a woman. It would have rocked the boat with your parents, which has never been your style.”
Before Noah could respond, thundering footsteps announced Eli’s return. He burst into the kitchen. “Ready for dinner!”
“Perfect timing.” Noah forced a smile. “Say goodnight to Mom.”
“Night, Mom! Love you!”
“Love you too, baby.” Jenna blew a kiss. “Noah? Think about what I said, okay?”
The call ended, leaving Noah alone with his thoughts and an increasingly impatient six-year-old.
“Is Mr. Luke coming?”
Noah checked the time. Five minutes to shove away all the shit Jenna had crammed into his head. There was no way he’d be able to act normal if he was in the middle of an identity crisis.
“He should be here any minute now. But remember, he’s only coming to visit, not work.” The warning came out rougher than he intended. “Tonight, we’re going to talk about what part of the house to fix first, and you’re going to finish your worksheets.”
The doorbell rang before Eli even processed what Noah had said. He hopped off his chair, racing to the front door. “I’ve got it!”
“Walk, Eli.”
His thundering footsteps slowed. He grunted as he tugged on the old door. “Mr. Luke! Dad said I have to let you and him talk tonight and that we aren’t doing any work.”
“That’s right, buddy.” Luke tousled his hair. “We need to make a game plan so I can buy everything we’ll need, and then your dad and I will figure out when to start.”
“And you’ll have things I can help with? It’s no fun when adults say I can help, but then I just sit there holding stuff.” Eli pouted, his eyes narrowing as he turned to look at Noah. It was true he was guilty of what Eli said. It was hard enough to manage home repairs without the well-meaning kid getting in the way.
“Absolutely! By the time we’re done fixing the house, you’ll be the youngest expert in town,” Luke assured him. Eli beamed at the prospect. Luke looked over his head to Noah. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Thanks. It’s nothing special. I tend to meal prep in bulk, so I just have to pull something out of the freezer and let it thaw. It saves time in the long run. Jenna didn’t like wasting money eating out, and when we moved out, the habit stuck. That might be my only saving grace now that the house is falling apart around me.”
You’re rambling. Just shut up and invite him to sit down.
“That’s smart. My mom used to do that when all of us kids lived at home.” Luke saved Noah from further embarrassment. “Eli, why don’t you help your dad get supper on the table while I wash my hands? I’ve been at a construction site all day, so I’m really dirty.”
Noah should’ve been upset about Luke taking control the way he had, but he wasn’t. Instead, he felt warmth bubbling in his chest that absolutely should not have been there.