Chapter 21 #2
I rush inside, twist my hair into a ponytail, and exchange my business clothes for a sweatshirt, old jeans, and boots that can actually survive a construction zone.
Then I wrestle the ladder from the shed outside my cabin, finagle most of it into the back of my car, and tie an old red towel around the end like that’s somehow going to make this, or me, look less ridiculous.
You know what? Good enough.
By the time I get back to the job site, the crew is already in full swing, which is perfect because no one’s paying me a damn bit of attention.
I park as close as I can to the front entrance, cut the engine, and sit there for a few seconds, questioning every decision that has led me to this moment.
When I realize no suitable answer is coming, I get out and head for the back of the car.
Turns out, getting the ladder into the car is far and away easier than getting it back out. Who knew?
I grab the ladder and start tugging, but it refuses to cooperate, so I yank harder and promptly lose my grip and land flat on my ass.
“Son of a bitch!”
Now I’m really pissed.
Scrambling to my feet, I grab the damn thing and haul it out, the ladder foot catching on the trunk carpet. It jerks free so suddenly it nearly takes me down again.
I pause, closing my eyes while desperately trying to center myself. “Kiki, let’s get it the fuck together before you kill yourself, okay?”
I hoist one end of the ladder, dragging the other behind me because I am absolutely not strong enough to carry this thing, no matter what my current level of spite is telling me.
I’m halfway to the house when a crew member spots me.
“Hang on a second,” he calls, jogging toward me. “I’ll help you with that.”
I’m not arguing with that offer. I hand it off to him with a smile. “Thank you.”
He glances at the ladder and then at me, a confused expression crossing his face. “Where am I taking this?”
“Dining room, please.”
His brows lift. “We’re demoing in there in about an hour.”
“I know. That’s why I’m headed there now.”
He carries the ladder inside as if it weighs nothing and leans it against one of the dining room walls. “Is this good?”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Are you good?”
“Yep.” Truth is, that is entirely debatable.
He nods, although I can tell by his face he doesn’t believe my bullshit either.
Once I’m alone, I grab a few tools scavenged from my cabin. It’s a pathetic collection, really, but I’ve got a pry bar and a hammer, and that’s probably enough.
I’ve seen people do this before on videos and television. How hard can it be?
Yeah. Famous last words.
I position the ladder beneath the molding and climb up, the pry bar and hammer firmly tucked under my arm, each step creaking under my weight. At the top, I steady myself and reach up, running my fingers along the edge of the crown molding.
“Kiki, old girl, you get one shot at not fucking this up.”
I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, but since Eddie told me to handle it, I guess we’re about to find out how good I am with a pry bar.
I wedge the bar between the molding and the wall, testing the grip of the nails. Then I adjust my angle and tap the end of the pry bar with the hammer. Once. Twice. A faint creak as the wood shifts a fraction of an inch.
Hey, we’re getting somewhere. It might take me a million years, but still.
I lean in for my second attempt when a voice booms below me, “Kiki, what the hell are you doing?”
Pausing mid-action, I glance down to see Eddie glowering up at me from the floor. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he snaps. “What the hell are you doing up there?”
“I’m getting a fucking massage,” I fire back, my temper snapping loose. “What does it look like I’m doing? You told me to handle it, right? I’m handling it.”
He swears under his breath, something about stubborn women, as his hands clamp onto the ladder. “Stop moving. Jesus, just stop.”
“I’m fine, Eddie.”
“You could get hurt up there.”
I roll my eyes, finally daring to meet his gaze head-on. “Like you care.”
Everything goes still. All of it, every unspoken emotion, every ounce of hurt and anger tangled between us, just hangs there.
He shakes his head, like he can’t believe I said that. “Of course I do, Kiki. I’d never want you hurt.”
“Then stop yelling at me and let me get back to work.” There’s no anger in my voice now, just resignation. A knowing that my heart is going to ache forever from losing him, and that distance is probably the only way I’m going to maintain any kind of composure.
“No can do,” he replies firmly. “Come down off the ladder.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “I will help you, but I need you on the ground first.” Eddie motions to Mike. “Give me a hand setting up the scaffold.”
A few minutes later, they’ve set it up. Damn them for making it look so easy.
I hold out my tools, assuming they’ll take over where I left off, my half-inch of completed work, but Eddie shakes his head and crooks a finger at me.
“This is your baby, Kiki. We’re doing it together.”
Great. Now I get to hang out for the next hour with a man who hates me.
Today just keeps getting better and better.
I eye the scaffold with a mix of contempt and fear. “Is that thing going to hold me?”
“It holds men way bigger than you.” Eddie’s gaze drifts slowly up my form. “This is quite a change from your usual attire.”
Oh, we’re going there now.
I cross my arms, my foot tapping out a rapid beat against the floor. “I wear a business suit and you tell me I look ridiculous. Now I’m dressed like every guy on your crew, yet I still look ridiculous. I can’t win with you.”
I don’t bother waiting for his response. Instead, I grab the ladder. “I’ve got it,” I snap when he moves to steady it, my boots clunking against each rung as I climb.
I step onto the scaffold and balance myself, determined to get this done without suffering yet another mini mental breakdown.
A second later, Eddie joins me on the scaffold, but he doesn’t reach for the tools hanging around his waist. Instead, he scrubs his face with his hands. “You don’t look ridiculous.”
I refuse to look at him.
“To be honest, I always preferred you like this,” he adds. “Sweats, jeans, no makeup. I liked you best that way.”
I snort under my breath. “That’s quite a change, considering you don’t like me at all now.”
His hand smacks the wall with a sharp crack. “Hey, I’m not the bad guy here. You remember that, right?”
I go still, zeroing in on a small hole in the plaster, picking at it with my finger so I don’t have to look at him. “I know,” I mumble. “I know this is all on me.”
Silence settles between us, thick and noxious, as the seconds tick by.
Eddie exhales and tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “You know what? There’s no point. Let’s just forget it.”
I say nothing.
“We can’t keep doing this to each other,” he continues.
“Turning the job site into a war zone. You don’t need me snapping at you every moment, and I don’t need to be carrying this anger around when we’re stuck working side by side for God knows how long.
Probably forever, if Nolan has his way, since we’re so”—he makes air quotes—“magical together.”
He’s trying to lighten the mood, but his peace offering catches on the shards of my broken heart.
Typical Eddie, smoothing over pieces he didn’t break.
I rest my palm against the wall, against the wound I’ve made bigger with my finger, noting the resemblance between it and my disaster of a life. “I think Nolan is right. We were magic.”
Damn it. Why did I just say that?
I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact, hoping to God I don’t trigger Eddie’s anger yet again, even though it is deserved.
But there’s no anger to be found. Not this time.
“Yeah. For a minute there, I thought we were too.” Eddie sighs and pulls the pry bar and hammer from his tool belt. “Come on. Let me show you how to do this.”
I roll my shoulders as determination settles into my bones. If nothing else, I know I can learn from him.
Eddie is a master.
Of course, he makes removing the wood trim look effortless. I watch his first few passes, taking in the angle of the pry bar, the placement, the way he taps the hammer with firm, controlled movements, like he knows exactly how much pressure the wood can take without cracking.
He walks me through it, every step of the way.
The man has endless patience. I should know.
I’ve seen it in action with Theo countless times—teaching him how to throw a baseball, answering a bazillion questions about some random dinosaur species, or pretending to be interested in whatever cartoon had caught his son’s fancy that week.
Hell, even with me, as he showed me how to fix things around my cabin.
The man is a natural teacher, and I’m glad for an excuse to be near him for a few minutes.
Now, let’s hope I don’t mangle my section of trim.
I adjust my grip on the pry bar and mimic his movements. I’m slow and haphazard at first, but then I find a rhythm, and damn it if it doesn’t become a bit easier.
“Hey.” He shoots me a stern look, but I see the corners of his mouth tipping up. “Settle down, speedy.”
I glance over at him, lifting my hands in mock surrender. “I’m trying to keep up with you.”
He chuckles, returning his attention to the task at hand. “I have a bit more experience with a hammer.”
“That’s an understatement.” I gesture around the room. “You have a ton more experience with all of this, Eddie. I’m learning, though. Don’t really have a choice. The cabin has a crap ton of repairs.”
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps working. “How’s that going?”
I hesitate, watching him for a second. Are we actually doing this? Having a real conversation? Like… dare I say it, friends?
Not even close to what I want from the man, but I’ll take anything at this point.
I release a long, loud sigh. “Can I be honest and say terribly? I watch a ton of DIY videos, and about three-quarters of the way through, I realize they don’t know any more than I do.”