Chapter 14
Maybe I shouldn’t have done this alone.
I cocked my head to the side. If I tilted my head a little, the wood was level. Level enough.
Right?
It was Tuesday afternoon. There was a free block, and I’d been in the academy workshop late into last night and all afternoon today.
With paint, the angle would be less obvious… I think… I glanced at the tins of white paint waiting on the scuffed up workshop floor. Well—they weren’t pure white. Off cream… bridal colours, I’d been told when I’d turned up at the hardware store with beach wedding pictures.
Our wedding pictures could live on this bookshelf forever, beside all the Arkology books she was so particular about. I imagined she would be just as particular about the wedding photos when we had them.
I’d even bought the frames, all hexagons and pentagons—all supposed to look perfect on this shelf.
I frowned as I tilted my head the opposite way. Could paint really fix this?
Shit.
The others in the workshop gave me and my bookcase a wide berth. I’d thought it was because I was Ransom Kingsman… but now I was starting to wonder if it was because I was Ransom Kingsman with a monstrosity of a project no one wanted to have to comment on.
“Damn,” I hissed, rubbing my brow with fingers raw from sanding. If I spent another few hours sanding the edges, could I maybe make that stupid level bubble lie to me? “No way I can give her this.”
Would it even hold books? And what if it fell apart and she got hurt?
In my head, this had gone better. Every step, every agonising hour of figuring out how to use the tools in here, and I had been confident it was going to be perfect.
A gift beyond money, and more precious for it.
But in hindsight, that was pretty fucking stupid. Who did I think I was, making a bookshelf?
With only one step left, it still looked like it had been made by a toddler with a hammer.
Some marriage gift.
But, I couldn’t give her nothing.
She was my wife, and my wedding gift to Shatter wouldn’t be something I bought with the click of a button or a swipe of a card. No. My omega deserved a thought-out gift that was made just for her.
Something I made for her with my own two hands.
And I’d made… this.
A bookshelf that made unsettling groans when nudged. Maybe I should just scrap the whole?—
“You build?”
Dusk’s voice had me whirling where I stood.
He was crossing the workshop, looking around curiously with his oxfords clipping the paint stains and sawdust across the floor.
“How did you find me?” I demanded, stepping between him and the bookshelf so he couldn’t see the tragedy I’d made.
Dusk cocked an eyebrow at me, half a grin on his face. “I was wondering what the paint purchases were all about.”
My cheeks flashed hot. “You’re watching my purchases?”
“Like there isn’t anything that could possibly stand out more on Kingsman bank statements than purchases from a hardware store.” He tugged up the sleeves of his black button up, grinning. “Need help?”
“No.” I narrowed my eyes at him. I doubted he’d be any better than me.
Plus, it was his fault we were in this mess.
He drew up slightly, eyes falling on the paint can. “Oh.” I saw the comprehension in his eyes. “This is…”
“A wedding gift,” I said. “For the woman you married into the pack without telling us.”
I put my hand on the shelf protectively, which was a mistake, because it wobbled rather dangerously.
Ah. Shit.
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. I can’t give it to her.”
Nope. No way could I give it to her. I’d give her something else for now—we’d have to buy more bookshelves from the store. I would practise making bookcases a hundred more times and then I would give her one from me.
But…
But what if she got attached to the one from the furniture store? What if she liked it enough that she wanted to put our wedding photos on it?
I fought back a growl, my jaw going tight.
This could be the only window I ever had to make a shelf she’d want.
“She’s going to love it,” Dusk said.
I blinked. “She’ll… What?”
“Love it.”
“It’s not very sturdy. Or upright.”
“What colour were you thinking?” he asked, ignoring me.
“I got a few bridal creams…”
“Have you considered varnish?”
I frowned. “Why?”
“She likes darks—and wood textures.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“No. But she hurries any lighter colour plates and bowls out of the nest quicker and she keeps the darks longer—especially trays, and there’s one mahogany one stashed under her bed.”
“Oh.” Was there?
Damn. I’d spent a lot of time on creams… But now I was thinking about it. He was right. All that time picking out this perfect… Cloud White—I think it was called—wasted.
“Varnish, then?” I asked, then frowned. I shouldn’t ask. This was my project.
“I think if this gift had a good varnish, she’d probably try to stash it under her bed.”
I felt a smile tug at my lips and I was already tugging my phone out, going back through the Benjamin Moore website.
“I didn’t come for that, though,” he said.
I glanced up at him from the phone, frowning.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. And her and Umbra. It’s a big deal. At the time I was just thinking about—” He cut off, palming the back of his neck. “Doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t have happened like this for you or her.”
I hesitated. Dusk had never been one for apologies. If he’d tracked me down to give me one, he meant it.
I nodded.
“I think she’s…” I couldn’t stop my smile. “I think she’s thrilled. Even if she is mad at you.” Which did have its merits. “Kinda wild in the bond,” I added. Like a fiery tornado of possessive omega in there.
Dusk nodded, clearly biting back a grin. He cleared his throat. “You ready for Flynn today?”
I nodded. That was tonight. I probably needed to finish here and change, actually. “Think so. Find out if they know anything. Try to give them enough hope for a deal over Shatter that they back off a bit.”
“Not as easy as it sounds, sitting with those pricks with a poker face.”
“I can handle it,” I said firmly.
Only reason he knew that was because he’d had to do it while I was feral.
No.
I was far past my turn.