Chapter 5
Kaden
Jason tightens the final screw on the bedframe before helping me heave the king-size mattress on top.
It’s the last piece of furniture left to assemble since moving into my new apartment this morning.
And because there wasn’t much to bring—just a bed, chest of drawers, fridge, washing machine, a brand-new sectional couch, and a sixty-five-inch TV—we managed to move everything in and get it all set up in a single day.
When I got the call from Max just over four weeks ago, informing me that the apartment had received three other offers, I went into immediate action and negotiated a new price, something I hoped would outshine the rest without selling myself short.
The very next day, I received the news I’d been waiting for: my offer had been accepted.
Once my mortgage was approved and the settlement date locked in, I wasted no time moving in.
I no longer felt guilty about selling both my shares, my motorbike that held too many bad memories, and draining every bit of my savings, to pay for the down payment, because in the end, it gave me back my independence and a chance at a new beginning.
To celebrate, Jason took me out to dinner at a restaurant near my new place after we spent the afternoon checking it out.
I was so full of adrenaline and excitement that I ended up purchasing brand-new furniture and appliances online that night—apart from the TV, which Jason had given me as a housewarming gift.
Everything was pretty much smooth sailing after that.
Things felt like they were finally falling into place.
The apartment still feels a little empty, with a few pieces of furniture missing. But I plan to build them all myself—the coffee table, dining table, and even the built-in TV unit with shelves. It’s one of the few skills I have that not many people know about, not even my ex-wife knew.
Growing up, I was only ever good at two things: boxing and building. But after I finished high school, my passion for the latter just faded into the background. Girls and partying slowly took over my life, that was, until I met Skylar.
Having struggled with most subjects at school, woodwork was the one thing I consistently excelled at. At one point, my teacher even believed I would go on to become the next Norm Abram.
Oh, how deeply disappointed he’d be if he knew the person I became instead.
I quickly shake the thought away before it ruins my good mood. I’m determined not to let anything derail my progress. And now that I finally have a little more free time on my hands, I’m hoping to rekindle my long-lost passion.
One of the things Dr. Carroll suggested in our third session was to explore new hobbies or return to something that once brought me joy.
When I mentioned that I used to love creating and building things with wood, she encouraged me to focus on that.
So, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing—starting little projects here and there, beginning with building my own custom furniture from scratch.
Jason drops his cordless drill into the toolbox on the ground, the loud clang quickly snapping me be back to the present.
“It’s coming together really well,” he says as he plops onto the mattress.
I lean against the chest of drawers across from him and cast a quick glance around my half-furnished bedroom.
“It is, isn’t it? Once I build the rest of the furniture, I’ll add the final touches and make it feel like a real home.”
“So, you’re really going to do it?”
“Yeah, why not? I’ve always wanted to own pieces I designed and built with my own hands. It doesn’t get much more unique than that.”
“Honestly, at first, I thought you were joking. But then I remembered how incredible your creations were back at school. You made everyone else’s work look like preschool-grade Lego structures. Mr Curtis was always blown away by everything you built and it made me kind of envious.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Yours weren’t too bad from what I recall. I still remembered that jewellery box you made for Ashley so you could ask her out on a date. She even cried when you gave it to her.”
“It was nowhere near as impressive as the fancy shoe shelf you built for Jasmine after she ran out of space for her ridiculous shoe collection. You didn’t even have to try, but she was head over heels for you after that.”
We both chuckle, reminiscing about the good old senior days of high school, and how everything back then seemed so much easier, simpler.
“The things we did just to get the girls’ attention,” I say, shaking my head.
“I don’t think much has changed since then,” Jason quips, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face.
“Speak for yourself. I’m sure you pulled every lame arse move to win Mila over… again.”
“What can I say,” he shrugs, “she couldn’t resist my charm.”
“Okay, Casanova. I really don’t want to hear about what you’ve done with my ex-sister-in-law or how whipped you’ve become.”
“That, my friend, I’m happy to admit I am,” he says, winking at me.
Jason and Mila’s relationship wasn’t exactly straightforward.
They had both suppressed their feelings for one another out of respect for Skylar and me during our rough separation.
They tried dating other people for a little while to avoid acting on their feelings, but it turned out to be the worst decision, and I’m sure, their biggest regret.
Sadly, Mila began dating someone who turned out to be an abusive son of a bitch, nearly sending her to the fucking emergency room. If it hadn’t been for Jason showing up at her apartment just in time, things could have been much worse.
I was relieved that my best friend was there to keep Mila safe, but at the same time, I felt overwhelming sadness and guilt that I wasn’t there to help her.
She’d been like a little sister to me for ten years, a decade of protecting her from douchebags like her ex-boyfriend.
Sitting by and doing nothing because of her hatred for me crushed something deep inside me.
But knowing she had someone like Jason in her corner helped ease a little of that hurt.
When they finally admitted their true feelings for each other and began dating, things went relatively well for a while.
But Mila’s trauma, combined with Jason’s meddling ex-wife, became too much for her to handle, ultimately leading her to end the relationship.
I could tell my best friend was completely devastated, but he never let on.
Jason was never the type to show or talk about his pain. It was my chance to step up, to be the supportive friend he had always been to me, yet I found myself at a loss, unsure how to help him while grappling with my own struggles. It was without a doubt, the worst period of both of our lives.
Fortunately for Jason and Mila, they eventually reconciled nine months later and have been going strong ever since.
“Now that we’re done here, I’ve got a six-pack of beers with our names on it waiting in your fridge. Care to celebrate?” Jason says, pulling me from my thoughts and bringing my attention back to him.
The temptation to have a drink is so strong I can practically feel my mouth watering.
This is exactly the moment I’d be scouring the fridge for a can or bottle of alcohol, ready to demolish an entire pack on my own.
But when I look around my room and see how much progress I’ve made as of late, it quickly steels my resolve.
“I’m all good, Jase. I’m trying this thing where I don’t touch any alcohol for a long time, at least until I know I’ve got a good handle on it.”
“Shit! I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. That was pretty shitty of me to suggest something like that.”
“It’s all good, brother. I’m all good. But I’m gonna have to ask you to take the six-pack with you when you leave. I made myself a promise the day I picked up the keys from the agency—I’m not keeping any alcohol in the apartment, not while I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
“Fuck me. Who is this new guy that’s standing in front of me?” Jason says, shaking his head in disbelief.
A soft laugh escapes me. “Well, I hope it’s the beginning of a version of me you can really be proud of.”
Jason smiles and slowly rises to his feet. He walks over to me and, in a move I never saw coming, pulls me into a hug.
I freeze instantly, completely caught off guard, standing there awkwardly with my arms locked at my sides.
“Um… what are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he murmurs. “I’m hugging you. Why aren’t you hugging me back?”
“Because we never hug. And it feels weird being in your manly arms.”
“Mila says my arms are snuggle-worthy.”
“I’m not your girlfriend, and I can practically feel the bulge in your pants trying to make out with my groin.”
“Shh... just embrace it, Kaden,” he whispers in my ear, mockingly.
The heat of his breath on my skin is enough for me to recoil and push him off. “You’re fucked up, you know that.”
He lets out a booming laugh and shrugs. “I’ll turn you into a big, cuddler one day. Just you wait and see.”
“Not a fucking chance. Now, thanks for the help, mate, but it’s time for you to grab your shit and piss off before I kick your sleazy, prickly old arse out the door.”
“Such a fucking charmer, you are,” he says sarcastically as he picks his tool box up from the floor. “If you need any help with the rest of the furniture, just give me a call. Happy to lend a hand.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I can take it from here.”
He gives me a two-finger salute, and we walk over to the front door, making sure to grab his six-pack from the fridge first. We do our usual brotherly man-shake thingy and organise a time to meet at the gym tomorrow night before he finally leaves and I close the door behind him.
The moment I turn around and soak in my new apartment, a sudden rush of emotions floods me all at once—joy, relief, nervousness, excitement, pride, and something I thought I was never going to feel again. A small flicker of hope.