Chapter 6 Stories in the Walls
Cracks
The atmosphere inside the house felt different after the incident in the hallway.
Nothing had been said about it.
Neither Liam nor Mason had mentioned the moment when Mason brushed the hair from his face.
There had been no conversation.
No explanation.
No apology.
Yet the memory lingered between them anyway.
Liam felt it every time their eyes met.
Every time silence settled a little too comfortably.
Every time he caught himself thinking about it when he should have been focused on literally anything else.
Unfortunately, forgetting proved impossible.
By Friday morning, he had replayed the moment dozens of times.
Which was exactly why he nearly spilled coffee when Mason knocked on the door.
"Careful."
Mason stepped inside as Liam steadied the mug.
"That would've been embarrassing."
Liam shot him a look.
"You're lucky I saved it."
"I'm impressed."
The teasing felt normal.
Comfortable.
And somehow that made everything worse.
Because despite the growing tension between them, they still slipped effortlessly into familiar routines.
Coffee.
Breakfast.
Repairs.
Conversation.
The pattern had become a part of Liam's life before he'd fully realized it.
Today, Mason planned to replace sections of damaged drywall throughout the house.
The work was messy.
Dusty.
Far less interesting than plumbing.
At least that's what Liam assumed.
Then he spent ten minutes watching Mason work and discovered he was wrong.
Apparently even drywall became fascinating when Mason explained it.
"You're staring."
Liam blinked.
"What?"
Mason smirked slightly while measuring a section of wall.
"You've been watching me work for five minutes."
Heat immediately crept into Liam's face.
"I was learning."
"Sure."
"I was."
The older man looked unconvinced.
Liam hated how amused that made him.
By midmorning, sections of damaged drywall had been removed from the hallway.
The exposed wooden framework made the house look unfinished.
Like a project caught halfway between destruction and repair.
Liam sat cross-legged nearby sorting repair materials while Mason worked.
The radio played quietly in the background.
Sunlight filtered through the windows.
For the first time in days, there was no rain.
The peaceful atmosphere made conversation come easier.
"So how long were you married?"
The question escaped before Liam could stop it.
Immediately he regretted it.
Mason paused.
For a moment, Liam worried he'd crossed a line.
"Eight years."
The answer surprised him.
"Oh."
Mason returned to work.
His expression remained neutral.
But something quieter settled beneath it.
Something thoughtful.
"I didn't realize it was that long."
"Most people don't."
The conversation might have ended there.
Normally Liam would have let it.
Something told him Mason didn't mind talking about it today.
Or maybe he simply wanted someone to listen.
Either way, Liam found himself waiting.
Eventually Mason spoke again.
"We met when I was twenty-four."
A faint smile appeared.
"At a friend's barbecue."
The memory seemed genuine.
Warm.
Liam listened carefully.
"We were together a long time before things went bad."
The smile disappeared.
The room grew quieter.
Not uncomfortable.
Just honest.
"What happened?"
Mason exhaled slowly.
The question hung between them.
Liam would have understood if he refused to answer.
Instead, the older man shrugged.
"Life."
The response sounded simple.
Too simple.
Apparently Mason realized that too.
Because a moment later he continued.
"I worked all the time."
His gaze remained fixed on the wall.
"Every problem that came up, I tried fixing."
Liam frowned slightly.
"That sounds normal."
"Not when that's all you do."
The words carried a weight Liam immediately recognized.
Mason set down his tools.
For the first time all morning, he seemed focused on something other than the repairs.
"If Sarah was upset, I'd work longer hours."
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"If we argued, I'd take extra jobs."
Liam's chest tightened.
Because suddenly he understood.
Not the marriage.
The loneliness.
The distance.
The way someone could disappear without actually leaving.
Mason continued quietly.
"I thought providing was enough."
The silence stretched.
Then:
"It wasn't."
Liam looked down at the floor.
He thought about his parents.
About overseas contracts.
Business trips.
Missed birthdays.
Video calls replacing dinners.
They loved him.
He knew that.
Yet sometimes love still felt far away.
The realization connected something inside him.
"You weren't trying to hurt her."
Mason glanced up.
"No."
"I can tell."
The older man studied him for a moment.
As if trying to determine whether Liam genuinely believed that.
Eventually he looked away again.
"No."
His voice sounded quieter.
"I wasn't."
For several seconds neither spoke.
Dust floated through sunlight.
The radio continued playing softly.
The house seemed to hold its breath around them.
Then Liam smiled faintly.
"You know what your problem is?"
Mason raised an eyebrow.
"That's a dangerous way to start a sentence."
Liam laughed.
"I'm serious."
"Go ahead."
The invitation surprised him.
So did the answer.
"You think people only need solutions."
Mason stared.
Liam continued before nerves could stop him.
"Sometimes people just need someone to sit beside them."
The words felt strangely personal.
Maybe because they weren't only about Mason.
Maybe because they were about Liam too.
The older man remained silent.
Not defensive.
Not annoyed.
Just listening.
"You always fix things," Liam said.
"You take care of problems."
Mason's expression softened slightly.
"Occupational hazard."
Liam smiled.
"Maybe."
Then his own smile faded.
"But people aren't pipes."
The statement hung quietly between them.
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then something unexpected happened.
Mason laughed.
Not loudly.
Not mockingly.
Genuinely.
The sound filled the room.
"There it is again."
"What?"
"You're doing that thing."
Liam frowned.
"What thing?"
The older man's eyes warmed.
"Making me think."
Heat immediately spread through Liam's chest.
The compliment felt surprisingly meaningful.
More meaningful than it probably should have.
The conversation gradually shifted back toward work.
But something had changed.
The distance felt smaller now.
Not physical distance.
Something deeper.
A wall neither of them had realized existed.
Throughout the afternoon, Liam noticed little things.
The way Mason rubbed the back of his neck whenever he was stressed.
The way he grew quiet when conversations became personal.
The way he automatically downplayed his own feelings.
Details that hadn't seemed important before.
Now they did.
Because for the first time, Liam wasn't just seeing the confident plumber who repaired broken things.
He was seeing the man beneath that image.
The man who had loved someone and lost her.
The man who blamed himself more than he admitted.
The man who spent so much time fixing everyone else's problems that he'd forgotten how to deal with his own.
The realization stayed with him long after the workday ended.
As Mason packed away his tools, sunlight streamed through the repaired hallway walls.
The house looked better.
Stronger.
Healthier.
The damage was slowly disappearing.
Liam watched Mason lift a toolbox and head toward the front door.
The familiar ache of impending absence appeared unexpectedly.
He ignored it.
Mostly.
"See you Monday."
Mason paused.
A small smile appeared.
"Looking forward to it?"
The teasing should have embarrassed him.
Instead, Liam found himself smiling back.
"Maybe."
Mason laughed softly.
Then headed outside.
A few moments later, the truck disappeared down the street.
Liam remained in the doorway for several seconds.
Thinking.
Not about plumbing.
Not about repairs.
Not even about the attraction that continued growing despite every reasonable argument against it.
He was thinking about Mason.
About the sadness hidden beneath the confidence.
About the loneliness buried beneath the competence.
About the man who spent his life repairing broken things while quietly carrying his own cracks.
And for the first time, Liam realized something important.
Mason wasn't nearly as tough as he wanted the world to believe.
Behind the broad shoulders, rough hands, and steady voice was someone just as lonely as he was.
Someone who had been hurt.
Someone who was still healing.
Someone who deserved far more kindness than he gave himself.
The realization settled quietly inside Liam's chest.
And somehow, it made him care even more.
Old Scars
Mason spent most of the weekend trying not to think about Liam.
The effort failed.
Spectacularly.
Saturday disappeared beneath errands, paperwork, and a service call that couldn't wait until Monday. Sunday was spent catching up on invoices and preparing schedules for the upcoming week.
Normally, staying busy helped.
Not this time.
Every quiet moment seemed to drift back toward the same house.
The same conversations.
The same smile.
The same pair of blue-gray eyes that somehow managed to look both vulnerable and stubborn at the same time.
By Monday morning, Mason was thoroughly irritated with himself.
Unfortunately, that irritation disappeared the moment Liam opened the front door.
"Morning."
The younger man's smile appeared instantly.
Warm.
Genuine.
Dangerously effective.
"Morning."
Mason stepped inside.
The familiar scent of coffee greeted him.
At this point, he wasn't even surprised anymore.
A strange comfort settled over him.
The realization was becoming a problem.
They fell into their usual routine almost immediately.
Coffee.
Breakfast.
Work.
Conversation.
Everything felt effortless.
Too effortless.
By late morning, they were working in the living room where another section of wall required attention.