Chapter 22
CHRIS
The project was coming together faster than I had planned, though I kept pushing myself harder each day to stay on track.
The early stages had been quick. Once the building was demolished and the concrete slab laid down, everything moved more smoothly, which meant there was more time to obsess over the smaller details.
Beth’s journals were my guide, and every step I took was in service to that vision, whether it was installing the storage shelving for the food pantry or getting the commercial kitchen in place for future use.
But working on something this big in such a short time had taken its toll on me physically.
My hands were a wreck, constantly sore and cracked from gripping tools all day long.
Even as the skin hardened into rough patches and calluses, it hurt, and I barely felt the sting anymore because I was too focused on keeping my head above water.
The aching muscles and throbbing joints had become the rhythm of my day, something to endure until the job was done.
Tonight was no exception. I spent most of the daylight hours overseeing the delivery of supplies and ensuring that everything was being unloaded into the right sections of the building.
It wasn’t enough, though. I couldn’t just stand back and manage things anymore.
I needed to stay busy, needed to do more, even if my body was telling me to stop.
As evening crept in, I stayed, my work gloves covered in grime and dust.
“Hey, Chris! I thought you were going to knock off earlier.” The foreman called from across the way, watching as I finished tightening the bolts on a massive refrigeration unit. He sounded concerned, like maybe I wasn’t making sense, staying on-site so long.
“Just finishing up some final adjustments,” I said, brushing him off without turning to look at him. “I’ll be out of here soon.”
He hesitated like he wanted to argue but let it go. “We’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I gave a short wave, knowing he didn’t buy it.
But it didn’t matter. All I cared about was finishing this.
There was still so much to do. Beth’s design was ambitious for a space that was meant to feed families and help those in need, but that was the point.
I could feel her vision taking shape beneath my hands, and I wouldn’t slow down until the place looked as close to her dream as possible.
The truth was, I couldn’t stand being alone.
The work kept me distracted from the silence of the motel, from the absence of her in my life.
I kept waiting for some kind of resolution, some way to prove to Beth that this was real, that I wasn’t just messing around.
But it never felt like enough, and the more I pushed myself, the more exhausted I got.
Even with my gloves on, my hands bled sometimes where the skin had split too deep.
The pain was nothing compared to what I was feeling inside.
It was like every pound of the hammer or twist of a bolt was me trying to fix something that was beyond repair.
I finished tightening the last of the bolts and stepped back, looking over the new unit.
It was in, secure and ready to go. But it still wasn’t done.
Nothing about this was done. I knew the rest of the crew was leaving.
I heard their truck engines start up, one by one.
Soon, it would just be me again under the dim halogen lights of the job site, trying to stay focused.
The sound of their vehicles faded as I moved toward the supply storage area, checking the inventory lists to ensure everything had been delivered.
It was methodical work, but at least it was something I could control.
It was the one thing I could control when my emotions left me spiraling.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it, assuming it was Maria or another executive trying to check up on me again.
They could wait. The company wouldn’t fall apart without me, not like my life had when Beth walked away.
My thoughts circled back to her again. Every night before I slept, I wondered how she was, what she was thinking.
But every morning I woke up alone, knowing I was no closer to fixing anything between us.
That gnawing feeling only drove me to work harder, push more.
The faster I built this place, the sooner I could face her again with more than just words.
I finished up my inventory check, the clipboard hanging limply from my tired fingers.
My whole body screamed for rest, but I couldn’t stop.
I wouldn’t let myself. If I stopped moving, I’d have to think again.
I’d have to remember that I was here because she’d left, that she hadn’t asked for this, and that I wasn’t even sure if it was going to change anything between us.
As I stood there staring at the shelves that would soon be stocked with goods for local families, the reality of what I’d done hit me in a different way.
I had put this entire project on my shoulders, made it about more than just fixing us.
It had become about the people here, about doing something that would make a real difference.
But I couldn’t escape the fact that Beth was the reason behind all of it.
She’d given up on me, on us, and I couldn’t let it go.
I tried to shake the feeling away, my eyes burning from the lack of sleep and too much time under the harsh lights.
There was always more to do, something else to finish before I let myself call it a night.
But even I was reaching my limits, the kind of physical and emotional exhaustion that left you raw.
I pulled off my gloves, revealing the raw skin underneath.
My palms were scraped and bleeding, but the pain didn’t register much anymore.
I flexed my fingers, wincing at the stiffness.
I’d pushed myself too far again, the same as every night this week, and my body was paying the price.
But the thought of going back to the empty motel room was worse.
At least here, I felt like I had a purpose, even if it was temporary and self-imposed.
I looked out across the highway, toward the diner.
The restaurant lights had been turned off, but there were two windows upstairs that still glowed dimly in the night.
It was impossible not to think of Beth just across the way, probably sleeping in one of those rooms while I worked myself into the ground just to feel closer to her.
She didn’t know I was here, had no idea what I was trying to build, but it didn’t stop the need in me to keep going, to see it through to the end.
My phone buzzed again, and this time I checked it, figuring if someone was calling repeatedly, maybe it was important.
It wasn’t. Another missed call from Maria, asking for some last-minute update before she closed up the Seattle office for the night.
I stared at her name for a moment before shutting the phone off and stuffing it into my jacket pocket.
I didn’t have time for distractions, especially not tonight.
The cool night air hit me as I stepped outside, and I winced at the sharpness of it.
It cut through the thin fabric of my work clothes, and my breath fogged in front of me as I leaned against the cold metal frame of the new warehouse door.
I was too tired to go anywhere, and too restless to sit still.
My body wanted rest, but my mind wanted none of it. I didn’t trust myself to stop.
The lights inside the building still glowed brightly, illuminating all the work that remained.
There were boxes piled up, waiting to be unpacked, equipment that needed assembling, and floors that needed cleaning before they were ready to be used.
I rubbed my sore hands together, trying to ignore the throbbing.
It felt like I had been here forever, like this place had become my whole world.
But in reality, it had been days since I first showed up.
The town felt different now. Less foreign, more like a part of something that mattered.
But I couldn’t let myself get comfortable with the illusion.
I wasn’t here for me, and I wasn’t going to forget the only reason any of this mattered was Beth.
I just wished I could do more, that I had more energy, more hours in the day, and required less sleep. There was so much I still needed to do.
“Tomorrow,” I muttered under my breath, promising myself that I’d ease up once the next major installation was done. It wasn’t convincing, but it got me moving toward my truck. The cool night air bit at my face as I climbed in, my hands aching around the steering wheel.
The drive back was short, just enough time for my exhaustion to catch up with me.
I rubbed my face, the road in front of me blurring with each blink.
All I wanted was to feel like this was worth something, like everything I was putting into this town, into Beth’s vision, wasn’t in vain.
But it didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t called, hadn’t reached out.
The lights of the motel flickered as I pulled up to my usual spot.
I cut the engine and sat there for a moment, staring out at the darkened windows of the other rooms. The silence was suffocating.
There were no answers waiting for me inside.
Just the same loneliness I was trying to outrun every day.
I forced myself to open the door, dragging my body out of the truck and across the gravel parking lot.
My legs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to me anymore.
Every step was an effort. When I reached the door of my room, I paused, hand resting on the handle.
There was nothing for me inside but the same restless thoughts. The same doubt. The same uncertainty.
Finally, I turned the handle and stepped inside, the familiar emptiness swallowing me whole.
I didn’t even bother turning on the lights.
I just let the door close behind me and stood in the dark, my mind still running wild even though my body was on the verge of collapse.
Tomorrow, I would wake up and do it all over again, hoping that one day soon, this would mean something more than just a distraction.
I sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off my jacket and staring at my hands in the dim light.
The cracked and calloused skin reminded me how far I’d gone, how far I was willing to go.
But would it ever be enough? That question circled in my mind, following me down as I finally laid my head on the pillow, too tired to care about the answer anymore. At least for now.