Chapter 9 VINCE
VINCE
By the time the end of next week rolls around, Fletcher and his crew have already gutted half of the women’s bathroom.
I’m impressed, and I don’t impress easily.
Construction usually drags on forever with work permits, setbacks, or surprise rot in the wall.
But apparently Fletcher operates on some kind of secret code where everything gets done ahead of schedule and everyone still likes him.
It’s fun seeing him in action. I’ve always enjoyed the way he interacts with his employees, but this is different. This is a paid job, where they respect him and listen to him.
With the restroom thirty feet away, I get a front-row seat to how Fletcher leads his team.
It’s sexy as hell. He doesn’t bark commands; instead, he leans into each person’s strengths and trusts their instincts.
That kind of confidence and flawless teamwork explains why Rhide’s Renovations has earned the Best in the City title for four years.
It’s a small crew for this job, only him and three others.
But they’re at the bar every day, ripping up tile, tearing out drywall—doing all the things that make my body hurt just watching.
No wonder Fletcher has a hot tub. I imagine he needs it after work most days.
I’ve seen him in it often… and every time, I wish I could join him.
I’ve had to settle for sitting outside it, feet propped on the stairs as we talk.
I can tell Fletcher hates it as much as I do, but he’s never made a big deal of it either—always talking about things other than my illness.
He can’t know how much that means to me.
Being around him this much is nice. I feel him everywhere. Even when I can’t see him, I know Fletcher’s close. It’s like my stupid, traitorous body is completely tuned in to him now, reacting to his nearness long before my brain does.
I hate how much I notice him.
I hate how much I don’t want it to stop. I don’t remember a time I was ever this… drawn to someone.
Late afternoon at the bar is its own kind of chaos. The music’s low but constant, the hum of conversation never quite dipping, glasses clinking, someone laughing too loud near the dartboards. Down the hall, drills whine and thud, but at least the customers don’t seem annoyed.
During a quiet moment, I lean against the wall and pretend my left leg isn’t buzzing like a live wire.
I can’t help but let my gaze drift down the hall again, desperate to catch any glimpse of the gorgeous man as he pops in and out of the small room.
Fletcher’s hair is a mess, shirt wrinkled, and his beard glittered with specks of drywall…
yet I can’t seem to take my eyes off him.
“You know, I didn’t think you swung that way.”
Piper’s voice startles me, and I quickly pull away from the wall. She’s standing only a couple of feet away, attention down the hall as if she’d followed my line of sight. Her deep-red lips curve into a smile. “Not that I can blame you. He’s hot.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say with a slight grin.
“Mm-hmm.” She smirks. “You keep staring at the guy like he’s a candy bar, Vince. Just go eat him up already.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I’ve never been comfortable being out.
My strict upbringing taught me it was better not to draw attention to myself.
To stay small and stay silent. It’s safer that way.
In fact, Ace is the only one who’s ever known I’m gay, until Fletcher.
But even Ace wanted us to be a secret when we fooled around in the army.
I went along with it because I didn’t want the attention.
But hiding it doesn’t feel right anymore.
I shrug. “Just enjoying the view.”
Piper laughs. “It’s a damn good one.” She sucks in a breath, eyeing the guys down the hall. “You should talk to him.”
I stifle a laugh. If she only knew… “We actually have been. Off and on.”
Her smile grows. “Yeah? That’s great. You’d be great together.”
I don’t reply.
“Anyway, you busy?”
“Obviously not.”
She lifts a tangled ball of white Christmas lights. “Mind helping me make this place sparkle?”
That’s when I notice she’s holding a small ladder too, and my stomach tightens.
My first instinct is to say no, but that would require explaining how ladders aren’t my friend anymore, and I’m not ready for that conversation.
I swallow my anxiety and take the ladder from her. The metal bites into my palm. My fingers don’t quite listen when I tell them to grip harder.
Please don’t let me fall.
We start near the door, the cool air sneaking in every time the door opens. Piper hands me a box of white Command hooks. “Spread these out every three or four feet.”
I fumble with a plastic container, nearly spilling the contents at least three times. Trying to peel the plastic backing off the adhesive is next to impossible when I can’t feel anything, but eventually, I figure out if I snag my nail under the corner, I don’t need to rely on touch at all.
After I get a dozen hooks up, Piper plugs the lights in and helps me drape them around the small space. Every step on the ladder is torture. The up-and-down motion pulls at my hip, sending a sharp protest down my leg. I hide it by leaning into the metal frame a little harder than necessary.
With every spasm, I grit my teeth. Lock it away. Refusing to show even a hint of weakness. It’s what I’ve been doing for weeks now. Months. Years, really, before I even understood what was happening. I’m a pro at it.
Or, at least, I used to be.
This small task is exhausting and mentally taxing. Each step feels wrong, like my foot lands a half-second too late or my legs are made of jelly.
I reach up to drape the lights around the inside corner, and my balance wavers, just enough to make my stomach drop. I steady myself on the wall, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
“Careful,” Piper says lightly. “You’re not twenty anymore.”
I force a smirk. “News to me.”
She rolls her eyes, passing more of the lights up.
I reach for another hook. My arms burn faster than they should, dead weights and worthless. Sweat prickles along my spine.
When I shift my weight to step down, my left foot seems to disappear under me. I can’t feel it at all. For one terrifying second, I think I’m going to fall on my ass. But then a strong hand lands on my lower back, steadying me. I know the touch without even needing to see his face.
“Easy,” Fletcher says.
I pull away from him, cheeks flaming. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, but sometimes these small ladders are pieces of shit.” He taps the ladder as if to emphasize his point.
I know what he’s doing—drawing Piper’s attention to the ladder and not me—but still shame washes over me like a cold blanket. Suddenly, I am hyperaware of every step. Every movement. Once again, it’s like a damn spotlight is on me.
If Fletcher hadn’t been there…
More determined than ever, I snag the lights and climb to attach them to the last two hooks. I can feel Fletcher’s eyes on me the entire time, no doubt remembering the fall down the stairs at my apartment.
I avoid his eyes as I climb down.
Piper claps. “Oh, it looks so great. Thanks, Vince.”
“Anytime,” I lie, passing the ladder off to her. Oliver takes over and they continue along the wall so I can stay by the door.
I take a deep breath. The usually dark alcove is less dark now with the lights hung everywhere, yet the ambience is somehow soothing.
Fletcher’s eyes are full of worry. I can feel the question, or accusation, or plea to be safe burning on his lips, yet he keeps them all to himself.
I take a drink from my water bottle, then reach out to brush the drywall from his beard. “You’re a mess.”
He seems surprised by the gesture, running his hand through his facial hair. “Am I? All part of the job, I guess.”
I flick my eyes toward Piper and Oliver, laughing as they fumble with the lights. “Still, though. You should be careful of what you wear to work.”
He looks down suddenly, as if he’s worried he has a hole in the crotch or something.
I laugh. “I just mean, you shouldn’t wear those jeans around me.”
He seems even more confused.
I lean in. “Piper caught me staring at you.”
Fletcher’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah?”
“Totally called me out on it.”
He brushes his hands over his pants. “These aren’t even my good pair.”
I chuckle. The guy could wear neon corduroy for all I care. I’d still find him hot.
His eyes soften, and he looks around before saying, “I didn’t think you were out to anyone here.”
“I’m not. But not because I didn’t want to be. They just never asked.”
“You know, you can let others in. You don’t need to wait for them to discover all your secrets.”
I tug at my shirt, skin hot.
Over the last year, working here has become… comforting. Quiet. Predictable. A place where nobody asks questions I don’t want to answer. I thought that’s why I felt safe here. It made it easy to stay in the shadows. Kept the attention off me.
But ever since Declan started dating Seth, I’ve realized it’s more than that.
I see myself in the people around me. The way Declan and Seth laugh so openly with their arms around each other, unbothered to show affection in front of people.
Or how Pete and Andy often stroll in, holding hands.
How Oliver flirts with every available guy—and even the unavailable ones.
Nobody bats an eye at same-sex relationships here. Piper hadn’t even questioned it when she caught me watching Fletcher. It was just another budding romance to her.
“Didn’t think they’d care, I guess,” I say finally.
Fletcher frowns. “Why wouldn’t they? You’re their friend.”
“No, I’m not.” I shrug. “I’m just the guy who mans the door.”
Fletcher’s frown deepens. He shakes his head. “They care about you, Vince.”
I look away, unconvinced.
“Boss, we need you in the bathroom,” someone says from the hall. “We have some questions.”
Fletcher sighs. “Sure, Ahmed. Be right there.”