Chapter Twenty-One
Taylor
After our whirlwind morning, my nerves prickle when we arrive at my father’s house. Even Barney’s excitement and Seth’s hand on my back as we climb the porch steps aren’t helping to settle them.
“Last chance to save yourself,” I offer. “You can take the car and go get coffee, or hit the bookstore while I visit with him.”
“Give it up, El. I’m not going anywhere.”
Loving his determination but equally frustrated by it, I say, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” and pray for the best.
I open the door, and Barney bounds in, making a beeline for the kitchen.
“Dad?” I call out, following Barney. My father is lying on his back beneath the sink.
His toolbox is on the floor, a few tools scattered around it.
The Tupperware cabinet is open, the tops and containers no longer neatly organized, and there’s a piece of new PVC pipe on the counter. Something clunks, and my father curses.
Barney pushes his nose beneath the sink.
“What the…Get outta here,” my father snaps. He pushes out from under the sink, glowering at me. His hair is sticking up in messy tufts, there are dark crescents beneath his eyes, and he’s holding a wrench.
“Barney, come here,” I say, noticing a faint tremor in my father’s hand. Barney stays put, wagging his tail, waiting for a proper greeting from his grouchy friend.
“What’s the nuisance doing in my house?” my father gripes.
“Spreading joy and dog hair,” I say. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”
He eyes Barney. “You’d better not shed.” Barney licks his face, and my father grumbles but pets him.
“Looks like he’s happy to see you,” Seth offers.
My father looks at him sharply, as if he’s noticing him for the first time. “Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry,” I say quickly, “Dad, this is Seth Braden.”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Braden? Your boss?”
“My client,” I correct, heat rising on my cheeks.
He scoffs. “Like that’s any better.”
“Dad, please.”
Seth extends a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
My father eyes his hand before shaking it. “Sure it is,” he grumbles. “So what’s the client doing in my kitchen?” He lifts his chin to Seth. “You always make house calls for business?”
“No, sir. I’ve never been lucky enough to meet anyone like Taylor who made me want to.” Seth’s lips curve up in the easy smile that I would have bet would put anyone at ease, except my father’s expression doesn’t soften. It hardens.
“Damn right you’re lucky,” my father says. “She’s one of a kind, and don’t you forget it.”
“Dad,” I say, surprised by the threat and also sort of warmed by it.
“It’s okay. I respect a man who protects his daughter,” Seth says, as patient as ever. Then he meets my father’s scrutinizing gaze with a steady, kind one.
My father mumbles something. The wrench slips from his hand and clanks to the floor. “Son of a—” he mutters, reaching for it, but he fumbles it again.
“Dad, why don’t you go rest, and I’ll call the plumber.”
“I don’t need a damn plumber,” he snaps, leaning back under the sink.
Fighting my frustration, I try to keep my voice even. “You’re going to get worse instead of better if you keep this up.”
Seth crouches beside him, unbothered by my father’s glare. “What’s going on under there?”
“I’m watching a circus. What do you think is going on? I’m fixing a damn pipe.”
“Mind if I take a look?” Seth asks.
“I do, actually,” my father grits out, and lies back. When he lifts the wrench, it slips from his fingers, barely missing his face.
“Dad!” I gasp.
“I’m fine.” He snags the wrench again and tries to unscrew something. Barney whines, sticking his nose under the other side of the sink. My father struggles with the wrench and curses.
“Sure you don’t want a hand?” Seth asks gently. “I’ve had to fix a few of these before. They can be tricky.”
My father grunts. “This isn’t like fixing a deal.”
“It sure isn’t. It’s ten times more difficult, but when you grow up without running water, you learn to treasure it when you get it.”
My father’s hand stills, and he eyes Seth, his jaw tight. The tool slips again, but he catches it, muttering to himself.
I crouch to look at him under the sink and put one arm around him. “Dad, why don’t you let me do it—”
“I said I’m fine.” His tone is cutting but tired.
Seth hands him the wrench. “Looks like the nut is stripped.”
My father grunts. “Been wrestling with it for half an hour.”
“They’re a nightmare when they’re stripped. Mind if I give it a shot? My grandfather showed me a trick when I was a kid. Been using it ever since,” Seth says.
My father hesitates, working his jaw. “Is your grandfather a plumber?”
“He thinks he is when the situation calls for it,” Seth says.
My father looks like he doesn’t want to trust him, but I can tell Seth’s grandfather’s remark got to him. It’s almost like Seth knows how close my dad was to his father before his father passed away.
“You break it, you’re buying a new one,” my father says. He scoots out from under the sink and hands Seth the wrench.
“That’s fair.” Seth maneuvers his broad upper body under the sink.
“Careful now,” my father says as Seth fits the wrench around the nut. “You gotta make sure it’s on good and tight or the stupid thing’ll slip right off.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Seth says.
I know he’s placating my father, but he sounds earnestly appreciative. He shifts the angle of the wrench, and the nut gives way.
“Well, look at that,” my father says, absently petting Barney as Seth scooches out from under the sink.
“Just needed a little leverage.” Seth hands him the wrench.
My father studies him, reluctantly impressed. “Guess you’re good for something other than arm candy.”
“I try,” Seth says with amusement as my father positions himself under the sink again.
I mouth “Thank you,” feeling like I’ve been holding my breath that whole time.
Seth stays where he is, kneeling by my father, keeping an eye on him, but he reaches over and squeezes my hand, mouthing, “You okay?”
I nod and smile, grateful that he knows how to handle my father. “I think I’ll take Barney out back and let him do his business.”
“Take your time,” Seth says, giving me an understanding smile.
“Come on, Barn.” We head out the patio doors in the living room, and I fill my lungs with the cool winter air. Only then do I realize we never even took off our coats.
As Barney sniffs around the yard, I pull out my phone to check work emails. I take a few minutes to respond to the important ones, and as I’m flagging others for later, a text from Becca rolls in. I haven’t spoken to her since Thursday afternoon. She doesn’t know Seth is here.
Becca: How are you holding up?
Me: I’m great! So much has happened. Seth was at my house when I got home last night.
Becca: WHAT? I thought he was in Australia until next week?
Becca: He gets double brownie points for showing up.
Becca: Triple if the makeup sex was good.
Becca: Tell me everything!
Me: Too much to text, but we talked, and we both want this to work.
Becca: Please tell me you had incredible makeup sex.
She sends fireworks emojis and a devil emoji.
Grinning like a fool, I send a blushing emoji and glance at Barney, who is now happily chewing on a stick beneath a tree.
Me: He’s still here. We’re at Dad’s.
A shocked emoji pops up.
Becca: Are you crazy!? You walked him into the lion’s den!
Me: He insisted. Dad’s in rare form, too. He called Seth “the client.”
A face palm emoji rolls in.
Becca: Seth is either brave or stupid.
Me: Brave, and he’s really good with Dad. But Dad is grouchier than normal. I’m worried about him.
Becca: I’m worried about Seth.
Becca: Don’t leave them alone. Dad might scare him off.
I glance at the house, and worry bubbles up inside me.
Me: Too late. They’re fixing a leak under the sink, but I don’t hear any yelling.
Becca: Oh God. RIP Seth Braden.
A broken heart emoji pops up.
I pocket my phone as Barney bounds over. “Come on, Barney,” I say, petting him. “Let’s see if Seth’s still standing.”
When we step inside, I hear my father say, “You’re telling me you choose to crawl into holes for fun?” I grab Barney’s collar, so he doesn’t interrupt them.
“Not all caves need to be crawled through. You’d be surprised at how massive some are. But they can be hard to navigate,” Seth says. “And some are so dangerous, they leave you questioning your life choices, which is why I think you’d like it.”
Oh no. Don’t egg him on.
My father laughs. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him laugh, it nearly brings tears to my eyes.
“Finally, another smart man who does dumb things,” my father says. “How about that?”
Barney pulls to go to them. I let go of his collar and follow him to the kitchen.
I see my father peeling himself out from under the sink.
Seth is kneeling beside him, his hand covering the edge of the cabinet to protect my father’s head.
My heart swells, waylaying all my worries about his ability to deal with my dad.
Barney bounds up to my father.
“What’re you doing, brat?” my father says, ruffling his fur. Barney licks his face. My father grumbles, but Barney’s already off to sniff an old piece of PVC pipe lying on a towel on the floor.
Seth pushes to his feet, gazing affectionately at me as he offers a hand to help my father up.
“I ain’t that old yet.” My father swats his hand away and pushes slowly to his feet. “When are we going caving?”
I look at Seth and lift my brows in question.
He gives me a reassuring look as he puts tools away and says, “You can’t go caving until you’re in top shape.”
“Few days, and I’ll be good to go,” my father says.
I open my mouth to dispute that, but before I can, Seth says, “You might be, but I won’t.
If you’re going caving with me, we have to do it right.
That means preparing. While you’re resting and regaining your strength, I’ll put together a plan.
We’ll need to start with hikes for endurance and a rock wall for practice.
I was hoping to get Ellie started, too.”
My father’s head snaps in my direction, his brow furrowed. “Ellie?”
Shoot. My nerves flare as I realize I was Nori to him when I was younger, too, and hearing Seth call me Ellie might stir up bad memories for him about my mother.
Hoping that’s not the case, I scramble for a way to explain.
“Seth has thought of Taylor as a guy for years, so I thought it would be best to go back to Eleanor with him. Only him.”
My father seems to chew on that while looking between me and Seth. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, and the tension in his expression eases.
I exhale with relief. “It surprised me, too.”
Seth tosses me a wink as he closes the toolbox.
A little while later, we’re making lunch when the front door opens and Becca calls out, “Knock, knock! Everyone alive in here, or did Dad slay the client?”
As Barney bounds out to greet her, I say, “We’re in the kitchen.”
Seth gives me a curious look.
“Becca,” I explain as my sister strides in with Barney in tow, looking like a time capsule straight out of a 1940s film in black wide-leg trousers, a white blouse tied at the waist, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, and her signature bright red lipstick.
Her grin is pure rabble-rouser as she parks herself in front of Seth and plants a hand on her hip, boldly looking him up and down. “Well, well, the legendary Mr. Braden lives—and apparently moisturizes. You’re prettier in person than in photos.”
My father snorts.
“Can’t blame the cameras,” Seth says with amusement. “I just look better when I’m with your sister.”
Becca cocks a grin. “Taylor has that effect on everyone.”
“He calls her Ellie,” my father interrupts, not unkindly.
Becca and I exchange a knowing glance, and then she looks at Seth and says, “You get props for that, too, Braden. Glad to see you’ve moved from my sister’s fantasies to her reality.”
“Okay, Bec, that’s enough,” I say, tugging her away from him. “Dad, Seth, your sandwiches are ready. Are you hungry, Bec? I’ll make you one.”
“I could eat, but I’ll get it,” she says.
“Thanks, El,” Seth says as my father reaches for a plate with a shaky hand. Seth snags both plates before my father can grab one. “I’ve got it.”
“I can carry my own damn plate,” my father complains.
Seth lowers his voice, leaning closer to my father, his back to us, and says, “I know you can, but do me a solid and go with it. It’ll make me look good.”
My father chuckles, then grumbles, “Always a pain in my ass,” as they head into the dining room.
Becca whispers, “Did Dad just laugh?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Can you believe it?”
“Did Seth slip him a doobie or something?”
We share smiles, and as I make another sandwich, my father says, “You got any treats for this mutt?”
“I got it, El,” Seth calls out as he stands up and pulls a dog treat out of his pocket, handing it to my father.
“So, are we alerting the media that hell has frozen over?” Becca asks. “Or are we just going to pretend this is normal?”
I glance at Seth, grateful that we have this second chance, still pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
He must sense my eyes on him, because he glances over and lifts his chin, giving me a look like the last morning we were on the island, before I ran away.
The one that says I’m his person. Only this time I don’t run.
I hold on to it with everything I have and say, “Let’s pretend it’s normal. I don’t want to jinx it.”