7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Adam
I'm elbow-deep in construction plans when the phone rings. It’s no surprise to see Aaron's name flashing on the screen. My foster brother and best friend has called me almost every night since the day we met eighteen years ago.
"Hey, Brother," I say, answering the call.
"Am I calling at a bad time?" Aaron asks, picking up on my rushed tone.
"Not at all," I reply with a chuckle. "I just need an office, man. Trying to figure out these plans in this tiny room is impossible."
"How’s the house hunt going?" he asks.
"I checked out two places today," I say. "But neither felt right. I’m heading out again on Saturday."
"Sounds like you need something fast," Aaron says.
"Jon offered me an office at the firm," I admit. "But... I’m not sure that’s a great idea."
"Katherine?" he asks knowingly, fully aware of Katie’s issues with me.
"Have you seen her again?" he asks.
"No," I reply, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. "I thought I’d see her at her family’s usual Saturday dinner, but she didn’t show. Then I figured I’d run into her at Jon’s office when he asked me to stop by and choose between two empty offices he’s offering."
"So she’s avoiding you," Aaron says.
"That’s putting it mildly," I counter.
"You should do it," Aaron says. "Maybe having you at the office will help Katherine warm up to you. Now that you're back in Cold Spring, your relationship with the Linders is bound to pick up where it left off. In short, you two need to work it out."
"It's not me," I say defensively. "I can't force her to like me."
"What you can do," he counters, "is dispel the notions she's built up in her mind all these years. You're not her enemy. Sooner or later, she has to see that. If you can't move into the house, then move into the office Jon is offering you."
"What does Julie think about all this?" I ask, already knowing Aaron’s wife is nearby listening in.
"What do you think, Honey?" Aaron asks, his voice carrying that familiar ease.
"You know what I think," Julie chimes in, sounding like she’s sitting right next to him.
"Tell me," I say, waiting for a sensible response, one that agrees with me: that all this would be a really bad idea.
"Julie thinks you’re in love with Katherine," Aaron says slowly.
"Excuse me?" I say, incredulous.
"Yeah," he continues, unfazed. "She thinks you’ve been falling for her ever since the last time you saw her."
"No," I say, my tone sharper than I intended, feeling defensive, almost offended by the thought that Julie, or anyone, would believe I could be in love with one of Jon’s daughters. "Absolutely not! She had just turned eighteen the last time I saw her. You know how wrong that sounds?"
"You asked, man," Aaron laughs. "You've been dropping hints about your feelings toward Katherine for years. We're just picking up what you're putting down, Brother."
***
I’m sitting in a booth, staring into my coffee, replaying last night’s conversation with Aaron and Julie. Their words still echo in my mind, unsettling and impossible to ignore. Lost in thought, I don’t even notice Justin walking in until he’s standing right in front of me.
"Hey," he says, sliding into the seat across from me. "Sorry I’m late."
"No problem," I reply, shaking off my thoughts. We’d agreed to meet for a late breakfast after running into him at Jon’s place the other night.
"I’m glad you’re back in town," Justin says, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Loren and I would love it if you could be one of my groomsmen."
"Absolutely," I say, returning his smile. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You know how much I love Loren, and you and I—we’ve been friends all these years. I’ve always thought of you as a little brother, too."
"There's just one little, tiny detail," he says, his tone slightly nervous.
"What is it?" I ask, narrowing my eyes as I pick up on his hesitation.
"My best man is married, and his wife is also in the wedding," Justin says cautiously, as if testing the waters. "They’d like to walk in together, so we’ll need to make a few adjustments to the procession."
"Alright," I reply, unsure where this is going.
"You’ll be partnered with Katherine," he says, his smile tinged with apology.
"Does she know?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Because I don’t have a problem with that, but she might."
"Loren’s going to talk to her about it," he says, exhaling. "We just wanted to make sure you were on board first."
"I'm going to take an office at the firm," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "I have a standing invitation to Saturday dinners, and now I'm her partner at the wedding. None of this is going to make her happy."
Justin smirks, leaning back in his chair. "Well, maybe it’s time she gets used to you being around. Like it or not, you’re back and a part of the family."
"Yeah, a part of the family that belongs to her," I mutter. "She didn't sign up for this."
"She'll come around," Justin says with a shrug. "Katherine is stubborn, but she'll come around."
I let out a dry laugh and shake my head. "I hope you're right."
***
Walking into Linder Realty, my eyes instinctively dart to Katie's office door. Part of me dreads the possibility of running into her, yet another part silently hopes she's there—just so I can catch a glimpse of her.
"Good morning," Sheri's voice echoes through the quiet office as she greets me from her desk.
"Good morning," I reply, flashing her a polite smile. "You're here awfully early, considering it’s barely past seven."
"I come in early a couple of days a week so I can leave early to pick up my son from preschool," she explains, adjusting a stack of papers in front of her.
"Oh, you have a son?" I ask, genuinely curious. "How old is he?"
"He's almost four," she says, her face lighting up with pride. "But he’s super smart. If I’m even five minutes late to pick him up, he’ll point to the clock and read off the time like he’s calling me out. I mean, what four-year-old can tell time like that?"
"Wow, that’s impressive," I say, laughing. But before I can add anything else, movement catches my eye. I turn my head and see Katie standing in the doorway of her office, her arms crossed, and her eyes locked on me. There’s a fire in her gaze—not the usual anger or disdain she reserves just for me. No, this is something new. Something unexpected. Jealousy?
Her jaw tightens as her eyes flick to Sheri and then back to me. I barely suppress a smile, wondering if I’ve just stumbled onto a side of Katie she didn’t mean to show.
"Good morning, Katie," I say, keeping my tone as neutral as possible, though I can feel the corners of my mouth twitching.
"Good morning," she replies, her words clipped, but her gaze lingers a beat too long. Then, without another word, she spins on her heel and disappears into her office.
Sheri arches an eyebrow at me, clearly picking up on the tension. "Well, that was interesting," she says with a smirk.
I shrug, trying to play it off, but my mind is already racing. If that was jealousy, what does it mean?
"Excuse me," I mutter, already walking toward Katie's office.
"Hey, Katie," I say gently when I reach her door, leaning against the frame. "Is everything okay?"
She doesn’t look up from her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys as though I’m not even standing here. "Why wouldn't it be okay?" she replies, her tone just a little too sharp for someone who claims everything's fine. "Dad let me know you were moving into one of the offices, so welcome."
"Thanks," I say, trying to keep the conversation light despite the tension in the air. "Are we okay?"
At that, she finally lifts her gaze to meet mine, her eyes narrowing slightly. She studies me for a moment, then leans back in her chair with a deep sigh. "What exactly do you want me to say, Adam?" Her voice is colder now. "This is my father's company. I don’t get to decide who takes up residence here."
"Look, I’m not trying to step on anyone’s toes," I say, hoping to ease the tension. "But, honestly, I need the space.”
Katie's lips press into a thin line, and I can see the walls going up around her. "And since I’m living in your house," she says, her voice dropping to a quieter, more controlled tone. She lets out a soft exhale. "Let’s just... keep things professional, okay?"
I nod, sensing this is as much of a truce as I’m going to get for now. "Of course," I say, doing my best to keep things neutral.
"And by that," she interrupts, her eyes locking with mine, her tone sharp now, "I mean, stay in your lane."
Her words hang in the air, charged with an unspoken threat. What she really means, though, I can’t mistake: stay the hell out of her way.
***
A couple of hours later, after checking in on a project, I return to the office carrying the rest of my things. The place feels quiet, like most people are either on break or tucked away in a meeting in one of the conference rooms. I can hear the low murmur of voices drifting from behind closed doors.
As I round the corner without thinking, I slam straight into Katie. The collision happens in an instant, but it feels as though time slows. I drop everything I’m holding and, instinctively, wrap my arm around her, pivoting to shield her from crashing to the floor. As we tumble together, I cradle her head with my hand. We hit the ground with a soft thud, but I can immediately tell she’s not hurt, with me taking most of the impact.
Once we’re on the floor, I shift my weight, unintentionally ending up half on top of her, and that’s enough to spark the temper I’ve seen flare up one too many times. She lies beneath me, completely stunned, her green eyes piercing into mine, searching for something I can’t quite read. I can feel her small frame under me, the heat of her body pressing against mine, and the familiar scent of her perfume wraps around me, momentarily clouding my thoughts. It takes both of us a few beats to fully process what just happened.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice coming out deeper and huskier than I meant. There’s no denying the pull I feel being this close to her.
"So much for staying in your lane," she whispers back, her tone laced with sarcasm and something else I can’t quite place.
"Are you okay?" I murmur, still holding her, unable to tear myself away.
"Yes," she says, the word coming out clipped. "Except for the fact that you're heavy and haven't made any effort to move off me."
I chuckle nervously, realizing I’m still very much on top of her, and reluctantly start to push myself off.
When I reach for her hand to help her up, I half expect her to slap it away, but to my surprise, she reaches for it instead. Her fingers slip into mine, and I wrap my hand around hers, steadying her as she stands. She dusts herself off with a swift motion, her eyes not meeting mine as she adjusts her top and smooths down her slacks.
I can’t help but watch, my gaze trailing over her. Her hair, once neatly pinned in a clip, now falls freely around her shoulders, a soft cascade of waves that only makes my pulse race. There’s this overwhelming urge to reach out, pull her into my arms, and forget about everything else.
She turns to me, and when she smiles, it sends a jolt through me. "I'm okay, Adam. Really. I'm fine." The warmth in her voice catches me off guard, softening the tension between us.
Her touch still lingers in my hand, but now there’s something else, something unspoken—an almost electric connection. It’s a spark. A pulse. I feel it coursing between us, threading through the space with an intensity that’s unmistakable. It’s not just me. She feels it too, I’m sure of it.
"Are you okay?" she asks, her gaze soft but searching as she takes my hand. "This is going to bruise."
"No," I interject quickly, "I’ll be fine."
She looks at me for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, then nods. "Here, let’s put some ice on it."
We walk together toward the small break room at the end of the hall, the silence between us heavy with something that neither of us can name, but both of us feel.
She reaches into the freezer and pulls out an ice pack, then wraps it carefully in a kitchen towel. Gently, she takes my hand and places the ice pack on my knuckles, her touch light but steady. The coolness of the pack contrasts with the warmth of her fingers, sending a rush of sensations through me. She doesn’t pull away immediately, her hand lingering on mine for just a second longer than necessary. I look at her, but she’s focused on the ice, her brow furrowed slightly in concentration.
We’re only inches apart, and when she looks up, the proximity between us feels electric, like we’re on the verge of something. What the hell am I thinking?!
“Thanks,” I murmur, pulling away, my voice low as I try to steady my pulse. “I’ll let this sit for a few minutes, after I pick up the mess I left in the hallway.”
“I’ll help you,” she says, following me into the hallway. She hands me the box and picks up a couple of framed pictures and an autographed football, her fingers brushing mine as she places them back in the box. Together, we gather the rest—an award and a paperweight—before I carry the box back to my office. As I drop it onto the desk and sink into the chair, the weight of what just happened crashes down on me. I can’t ignore it any longer. I love her. I’m in love with my best friend’s daughter. And this isn’t something new—it’s been there for years. Something that’s grown quietly, but intensely, deep inside me. The truth is undeniable now. And it’s terrifying.