Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Noah woke to Eli’s small form pressed against his side, radiating heat like a tiny furnace. For a moment, Noah let himself drift in that space between sleep and waking, where last night’s events felt more like dreams than reality. As long as he stayed curled up under the blankets with his son, he wouldn’t have to face the carnage, both physical and psychological.
The storm.
That kiss.
His eyes snapped open. Right. That had actually happened. All of it. Noah had no clue what he’d been thinking when he kissed Luke, other than he’d needed to know if his lips felt different from a woman’s. He’d been driving himself crazy all week, replaying Jenna’s assertion that the sexual awakening he was experiencing was more of a sexual acknowledgment than anything else. It had been foolish to do something so impulsive and reckless, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Now, he had to hope he hadn’t scared Luke off as the walls came tumbling down.
Noah carefully extracted himself from Eli’s octopus grip, pausing when his son stirred. But Eli clutched his Captain America plush tighter and rolled into the warm spot Noah left behind. After the excitement of last night, he deserved to sleep in as long as possible.
Noah’s reflection in the bathroom mirror told a different story. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair stuck up in ways that reminded him of… No. He wasn’t thinking about Luke’s perpetually messy hair or how it had felt under his fingers when they’d…
“Stop it,” he muttered, turning on the shower. The pipes groaned ominously—another item for Luke’s ever-growing list of repairs. Luke, who somehow managed to make rebuilding the house from the inside out sound like an adventure rather than an insurmountable task. Luke, who’d shown up in the middle of a storm because Noah called. Luke, who’d kissed him back like?—
The pipes shuddered and ice-cold water hit Noah’s shoulders. He bit back a curse, fumbling with the ancient taps. This was exactly why he needed to focus on practical matters. The house was falling apart, his son was sleeping in his bed because of water damage, and he had a class full of juniors waiting to discuss the symbolism of Gatsby’s shirts.
His phone buzzed as he dried off.
Heading over with coffee. Hoping you won’t mind me getting started on cleaning up the downed plaster today. Need anything else?
Noah’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. How did you answer that? Sorry I kissed you in my attic during a crisis? Thanks for not running away screaming. Please tell me I haven’t made things weird enough that you’ll abandon my house to rot?
Thanks. Black coffee for me.
Coward, he chided himself. But what else could he say? Sorry I had a sexual identity crisis in the middle of a natural disaster?
The house creaked as Noah dressed, its usual morning noises amplified by storm damage and newly exposed walls. He chose a dark button-down and his best tie, as if looking put together could somehow counteract the chaos around him. As if wearing his teacher clothes could shield him against the memory of Luke’s hands on his waist, steadying him as the ceiling collapsed.
“Dad?” Eli’s voice carried from the bedroom. “Is Mr. Luke coming to fix more stuff today?”
Noah smoothed his tie, buying time. “He’s bringing supplies to start repairs. But you still have school, buddy.”
“But I could help! I know where all the leaks are, and?—”
“School.” Noah kept his voice firm despite the way his stomach flipped at the thought of seeing Luke again. “You can help when you get home if he’s still here.”
He herded Eli through their abbreviated morning routine, grateful that at least the kitchen had escaped major damage. The coffee maker sputtered to life—probably the only appliance not actively trying to die—just as someone knocked on the front door. He’d gratefully accept the coffee Luke was bringing. He’d need something stronger than what was available in the teacher’s lounge to get through the day.
Noah’s pulse jumped. He knew that knock, even though Luke had only been to the house a few times. Knew the rhythm of it, just like he now knew the sound of Luke’s truck in the driveway or his footsteps on the porch.
“I got it!” Eli darted past him, pajama pants dragging on the floor.
“Pants first!” Noah called after him. “Then breakfast, then school.”
But Eli had already thrown open the door, letting in the smell of coffee and something else—something that made Noah’s chest tight. Luke stood on the porch, juggling coffee cups and a box of what looked like pastries from Sweet & Simple.
“Morning, disaster team.” Luke’s easy smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Brought reinforcements.”
He looked…good. Unfairly good for someone who’d probably gotten as little sleep as Noah. His work clothes were clean but worn in a way that spoke of regular use, and his hair?—
No. Noah wasn’t noticing Luke’s hair, the way his shirt stretched across broad shoulders and a muscular chest, or how his presence filled the entryway with a warmth that had nothing to do with him bringing coffee and breakfast.
“Thanks.” Noah accepted his cup, careful not to let their fingers brush. “You didn’t have to?—”
“Actually, I did.” Luke set the box on the kitchen counter, maintaining careful distance. “Can’t face catastrophic damage without proper fuel. And I’d bet the rent that you tossed and turned half the night, freaking about how you were going to pay for the additional repairs.”
Eli bounced on his toes. “Are those Miss Megan’s cinnamon rolls?”
“Buddy,” Noah warned, but Luke just chuckled.
“They sure are.” Luke handed the paper tray with two coffees and a smaller cup to Noah. “But I think someone’s supposed to be getting ready for school. Go do that, and then you can have a roll before you and your dad have to leave.”
Eli disappeared up the stairs, leaving them alone in the kitchen. Silence stretched between them, filled with the drip of water into strategically placed buckets and the hum of dehumidifiers Keaton had dropped off last night.
“So.” Luke fiddled with his coffee cup. “About last night?—”
“We should focus on the repairs,” Noah interrupted, not ready for that conversation. Not when he could still feel the phantom press of Luke’s lips, still taste the rain on his skin. “The dining room ceiling?—”
“Right.” Something flickered across Luke’s features, too fast to read. “Professional priorities.”
Professional. The word sat heavy in Noah’s stomach, along with the knowledge that he’d probably just made things worse. But what was the alternative? Admitting he hadn’t stopped thinking about their kiss? That it had felt more right than any kiss he’d shared with Jenna?
That it terrified him how much he wanted to do it again?
“I made a list,” he said instead, pulling a notepad from his briefcase. Lists were safe. Practical. “By room, in order of?—”
“Dad!” Eli thundered down the stairs. “Is this okay for school?”
Noah turned, grateful for the interruption. Eli hopped into the room, wearing his Captain America T-shirt backward and somehow had both legs through one side of his sweatpants.
“Not quite, buddy.” Noah set down his coffee. “Let’s try again.”
When he looked back, Luke had retreated to the dining room, his voice carrying as he talked to someone on the phone about supplies. Professional distance stretched between them like caution tape, marking boundaries Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to maintain.
“Thanks, man. I know I said this wouldn’t pull me away…” Dread settled in Noah’s stomach as he eavesdropped on Luke’s conversation. He should tell Luke to go to work, to forget about the soggy plaster all over. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad. If I can get things cleaned up today, I’ll be out at the Tillerman’s place tomorrow. Luckily, we’re ahead of schedule there.”
Noah forced himself to turn away. He needed to get Eli to school so neither of them missed the first class of the day. Everything else—the house, the kiss, the way Luke’s presence made him question everything he thought he knew about himself—would have to wait.
Even if waiting felt impossible. He waved to Luke, still on the phone, and headed out the door. He refused to acknowledge the pang of loss as he buckled Eli into his booster seat. This wasn’t the time for even more complications.
The school day dragged with excruciating slowness. Noah’s phone buzzed during third period—his bank’s automatic notification that his account had dipped below the emergency threshold. The storm repairs would drain the last of his savings, and he still hadn’t figured out how to tell Luke he couldn’t afford the original restoration plan, let alone many more emergency repairs.
His phone buzzed again.
Found significant damage behind the dining room wall. Need a decision about electrical rewiring ASAP. The longer we wait, the bigger the risk of fire hazard.
Noah’s grip tightened on his marker. Another expense he hadn’t planned for. The insurance adjuster had already warned him that pre-existing conditions wouldn’t be covered, and the storm damage would only qualify for partial compensation. He’d have to dip into Eli’s college fund. The thought made his stomach turn. He made a mental note to call Jenna during his conference period.
“Mr. Thompson?” Another student raised their hand. “The bell rang.”
“Right.” Noah forced himself to focus. “Don’t forget your essays are due on Friday.”
The classroom emptied, leaving Noah alone with his scattered thoughts and half-erased quotes about impossible dreams.
Normally, he’d go to the teacher’s lounge during his conference period, but he didn’t want to risk running into anyone. His mind was a mess, and he needed solitude to figure out what he was doing.
Contractor friend specializes in historical electrical work. Might cut us a deal. Let me know if you want his number.
Us. The word caught in Noah’s chest. Even keeping a professional distance, Luke was trying to help manage costs. He’d already cut his own labor rate so low Noah suspected he was barely covering expenses.
“Earth to Noah.” Sarah appeared in his doorway, carrying her usual afternoon coffee. “You look like you’ve been beat up.”
“Thanks.” Noah accepted the soda she’d brought for him, grateful for the distraction. “The insurance adjuster called during lunch. It’s…not great.”
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that I’m considering selling.” The words tasted bitter. “Cut my losses before the house drains every cent I have.”
Sarah’s expression sharpened. “And what does Luke think about that?”
“He doesn’t know.” Noah rolled the soda bottle between his hands. “How do I tell someone who sees such potential in the house that I can’t afford his vision? That I might have to walk away from all his plans?”
“Plans for the house? Or plans for something else?”
Heat crept up Noah’s neck. “The house. Obviously.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sarah settled into a student desk, studying him over her cup. “I told you about the issues Jack and I had when I bought our place. Some days, I thought it’d be enough to make him realize I didn’t have the best judgment. Others, I was certain my insistence it could be fixed would leave us unable to actually live in the house. But sometimes, what looks impossible just needs a different perspective.”
“This is different.”
“Is it?” She paused, then added carefully, “Have you considered Luke might have solutions you haven’t thought of? That maybe he’s invested in more than just the house?”
What was up with everyone insinuating there was more between him and Luke than a professional arrangement? Okay, so it was only Jenna and Sarah, but still. Noah wondered if he’d been giving away more than he realized about his sexuality and the women in his life were determined to set him up.
Before Noah could respond, his phone buzzed again. If it wasn’t for how hard Luke was working to save money without cutting corners, Noah would’ve thrown the damned thing across the room.
He’d need to put his phone on Do Not Disturb before his next class arrived because he couldn’t focus on his students when every message today seemed to be bad news. And maybe he’d talk to Luke tonight about using one of those notebooks he was so fond of to make notes throughout the day and give Noah a rundown in the evening.
Called in some favors. Got us better rates on materials. Think I found a cheaper way to handle dining room repairs.
Something in Noah’s chest tightened. Even through text, he could read Luke’s determination to make this work. To find solutions Noah couldn’t see through his panic about money and repairs and…other complications. At least this message was good news.
“Interesting,” Sarah mused, watching Noah’s face. “Your whole expression changes when you look at your phone now. Almost like?—”
“Don’t.” Noah set his phone face-down. “Please.”
Sarah’s expression softened. “Noah, some things are worth the risk. Worth figuring out, even when they seem impossible.”
“The house is literally falling apart.” Noah ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t even think about…other things…until I know Eli and I will have a roof over our heads.”
“Maybe everything is connected.” Sarah gathered her things, pausing at the door. “Just remember what I said about being honest with yourself. About everything.”
She left Noah with his soda and her uncomfortably accurate observations. Noah pulled up his banking app, staring at the numbers that seemed to mock his dreams of restoration. Of stability. Of…other things he wasn’t ready to name.
Maybe Sarah was right. Maybe some things were worth the risk, worth fighting for, even when they seemed impossible. Even when they terrified him.
The house wore its damage differently in the afternoon light. The printout of the insurance adjuster’s preliminary report sat heavy in his bag, full of terms like “pre-existing conditions” and “denied coverage.” The tarps Luke had secured over the roof shone a spotlight on the fool Noah had been, thinking he could buy a fixer-upper. Like everything else in his life lately.
He could hear movement inside—Luke’s steady footsteps, the scrape of debris being cleared, the whir of dehumidifiers fighting yesterday’s deluge. Through the window, Noah caught glimpses of Keaton Anderson examining the dining room ceiling, his expression grim as he made notes on a tablet. Whatever they were discussing, it couldn’t be good news for Noah’s rapidly dwindling budget.
“You planning to stand there all day?” Luke’s voice carried through the screen door, warm despite the tension Noah could see in his shoulders. “Because we need to talk about some options.”
Options.
The word sat like lead in Noah’s stomach. But he followed Luke inside, where original blueprints spread across a makeshift work table.
“Keaton’s got some ideas,” Luke said, carefully professional. “Ways to reduce costs without compromising integrity. See here?” He pointed to the blueprints. “The original structure had different support points. If we return to that configuration instead of working around the flip job’s changes…”
Noah tried to focus on the technical details, but his attention caught on the way Luke’s hands moved over the plans, confident and sure. The same hands that had steadied him during the storm, that had?—
“Noah?” Luke’s voice pulled him back. “You getting any of this?”
“Sorry, just…” Noah pulled the insurance report out of his briefcase, dropping it onto the table. “It’s all so overwhelming.”
Something softened in Luke’s expression. “I know. That’s why we’re looking at alternatives. Keaton’s willing to let me use company resources at cost, and I’ve got some contacts who?—”
“You don’t have to do that.” The words came out sharper than intended. “I can’t ask you to?—”
“You’re not asking. He’s offering.” Luke met his gaze steadily. “This place deserves to be saved. And you deserve—” He stopped, professional mask slipping. Noah wondered if Luke was also struggling to push last night’s kiss out of his mind. “You deserve to have the home you wanted.”
The air between them felt charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. Noah could see Keaton through the dining room archway, pretending to examine water damage while obviously monitoring their interaction.
“Luke…” Noah started, not sure what he was going to say.
“Mr. Luke!” Eli’s voice shattered the moment. “We’re home early! And Mom’s here!”
Noah’s head snapped up. “Jenna?”
Sure enough, his ex-wife stood in the doorway, Eli bouncing beside her. “Surprise,” she said, taking in the destruction. “I was already on my way back to Afton when Rachel called and told me about the storm. I thought you might need reinforcements.” Her gaze flickered between Noah and Luke, noting their proximity with raised eyebrows. “It might be easier if I take Eli to my parents’ place for the rest of the week so you can focus on things around here.”
“I—” Noah started, but Luke was already on his way back to the dining room. Looking around, it was hard for Noah to not feel like an utter failure. If Jenna had told him she was coming home, it had slipped his mind.
And now, she was taking Eli because the house wasn’t fit for him to live in. “You’re doing a great job, but it’s time for me to help in whatever way I can. And right now, that means crashing at my parents’ place for a few days so I can drive him to school, and you can focus on getting things cleaned up.”
“I’m going to review these estimates with Keaton,” Luke said, professional mask back in place. He called over his shoulder, “Mrs. Thompson, good to see you.”
“It’s Ms. Greene now,” Jenna corrected, but Luke was gone, joining Keaton in what looked like an intense discussion about how much the repairs would cost.
“Mom, come see my disaster map!” Eli tugged at her hand. “Mr. Luke says I’m the best assistant ever!”
As Eli dragged Jenna toward the kitchen, Noah stared at the space Luke had vacated. The insurance report lay forgotten on the table, its pages filled with denials and limitations. They should probably go over that before long so Luke knew what he had to work with.
“He seems invested.” Jenna’s voice made him jump. She’d returned without Eli, who Noah could hear chattering to Keaton about power tools. “In the house, I mean. Don’t screw this up, Noah.”
“It’s not—” Noah stopped because what could he say? That he’d kissed his contractor during a crisis? That he couldn’t stop thinking about it? That every interaction since then had felt charged with possibility and terror? Yeah, he was already well on his way to stuffing a stick of dynamite into whatever this was.
“Noah.” Jenna’s voice gentled. “I know that look. I saw it in the mirror for months before finally admitting I needed something different from what we had. Quit trying to do what you think everyone expects from you. For once in your life, go after whatever’s going to make you happy. Not your parents. Not me. Not what’s best for your career.”
“This isn’t anything like that.” But the protest felt weak, even to his ears.
“Isn’t it?” She gestured at the blueprints Luke had left, at the careful notes in margins about cost-saving alternatives. “Someone who cares that much about saving your home…might be worth exploring why.”
Noah’s phone buzzed.
Keaton knows a guy who specializes in historical restoration. Willing to consult for free this weekend.
It was weird that Luke was texting from the other room, right?
Before he could respond, another message appeared.
No pressure. Just options for whenever you’re ready.
“Interesting,” Jenna mused, watching Noah’s face. “He’s fighting pretty hard for this place. Question is, what are you fighting for?”
Or against, Noah thought, watching Luke explain something to Eli with infinite patience. Fighting against change, against uncertainty, against feelings he’d buried so deep he’d convinced himself they didn’t exist.
“Some fights,” Jenna said softly, “are worth losing.”
Noah looked at the insurance report and then at the blueprints covered in Luke’s careful notes about alternatives and possibilities. Maybe it was time to stop fighting. To admit that some things—houses, hearts, hope—deserved a chance at restoration.
His phone buzzed one final time.
We’ll figure it out. Whatever you decide.
We’ll . Luke kept speaking as if the two of them were in this together. But maybe that’s what courage looked like—not the absence of fear, but the willingness to face it anyway. To admit that some problems didn’t need individual solutions.
Some things just needed the right partner to tackle them with.