Chapter 13
13
T race hiked a load of old asphalt roof tiles onto his aching shoulder, stood, and climbed the steep pitch of the roof toward the dump truck parked on the opposite side. When he reached the peak, his gaze searched the drive, then the road for Avery’s Jeep, the way he had for the second day in a row now.
Still no sign of her. Though she had found someone to work on the piano. Henry Baxter was down there tapping away at keys, and the sound reminded Trace of his younger years, when his mother was well and his dad was clean and his family was happy.
He’d agreed both he and Avery needed some space, some time to think, to cool off. But he didn’t like it. In fact, yesterday had been the first twenty-four hours in two months he hadn’t seen her, and he’d been miserable. Today was shaping up to be another wretched day. She had to return eventually, but that didn’t mean she’d ever want him to touch her again.
He didn’t blame her. He’d been a petty idiot. Then turned into a callous bastard, pounding her against a wall after she’d admitted wanting him.
Who did that? Worse, who got hard just thinking about how hot it had been? How it had been the most passion he’d felt in years?
A serious loser, that’s who.
“I’m done over there,” Cody said, indicating his corner of the roof. “I’m gonna move to the other side.”
He met Cody near the gutter and hefted the tile into the dump truck. “I’ll restake your safety bracket.”
“Nah, I got it.”
Trace nodded and started back to the other side of the roof, his own safety line trailing behind him. He knelt, grabbed his crowbar, wedged it under a tile, and pried it from the roof trusses.
The work helped him exhaust his frustration over Avery, but it didn’t keep him from thinking about her. About them. He should take the decision out of her hands and call an end to their affair. If he could even call it an affair. Screwing twice hardly made it more than a hookup. But he knew better.
There was something between them beyond physical sex. They’d already been friends for months. Good friends. They shared similar life hardships. Had similar values, work ethic, goals. They’d liked each other to start with. That was the problem. Or one of the problems. There were so many, he couldn’t keep track of them all.
He tossed another old tile into the pile, shoved the crowbar under the next, and put his back into prying the nails loose.
“I hate these brackets,” Cody complained. “They’re so goddamned hard to move.”
Trace didn’t reply. He didn’t feel like bitching about the work. Yeah, it sucked to be up here doing the menial manual labor he used to do as a teenager. Especially after he’d worked for years to get his contractor’s license so he could have other guys doing this shit. But prison had a way of stripping a guy down to the nuts. He had to pay his dues all the fuck over again.
Which included staying away from Avery.
“I wanted you. I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you. That’s why I haven’t gone on a second date with anyone else. Because I want you .”
He tossed another tile into the pile and wiped sweat from his forehead with his shoulder. God, he wanted her the same way. Wanted what he hadn’t wanted since he’d been screwed over by Corina.
He wanted to take Avery to dinner and stay three hours over drinks, talking. He wanted to sleep in with her cuddled close, eat breakfast in bed, make love all afternoon, and fall asleep together again. He wanted inside jokes. He wanted conversations through a look across a room.
Trace drove the crowbar under the next tile, and the old nails screeched loose.
“This fucker . . .” Cody muttered.
Trace glanced up and found Cody straddling the roofline, putting all his weight into the crowbar to loosen the stake holding the brace into a two-by-four. Alarm rocketed up Trace’s spine. Consequences flashed through his mind in split-second screenshots.
“Hey, don’t lean into it.” He barked the instruction he’d already given Cody three times that day. “I told you to knock it loose.”
Cody looked up but continued to lean into the bar, shoving it with all his strength and placing three-quarters of his weight to one side of the roof.
“Cody, stop.” Trace dropped his tool and scuttled toward Cody. “This roof is too old?—”
The nail snapped, the rotted two-by-four beneath cracked and pulled through the particleboard. And Cody tumbled head over ass down the slope.
“Fuck!” Trace pushed off with both feet, throwing himself over the bracket and the tearing roof.
Cody hit the gutter, reaching the end of the safety rope. The roof beneath Trace lifted, punching him in the chest. He grunted and lost all his air. Pain crushed his ribs, and for long, excruciating moments, he couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred and went dark before his throat finally opened and his lungs greedily sucked in oxygen.
“Ah, God . . .” he groaned.
He turned his head and found Cody with one leg slung over the gutter as he clung to the roof edge.
“You okay?” Trace called.
“Uh...” Cody was breathing hard and fast. “Probably not.”
Henry rushed outside and looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Should I call the fire department?”
Wouldn’t that be just perfect?
“Cody,” Trace called. “Do you need a fireman to save your sorry ass, or can you do it yourself?”
“I can do it myself, thanks. Think my ego’s bruised enough.”
“We’ve got this, Henry,” Trace said. “Thank you.”
The old man didn’t look convinced, but he went back inside.
Trace banged his forehead to the hot roof. “Fuck, fuck, fuck .”
If he hadn’t been so goddamned obsessed with Avery, he’d have been paying attention, and this wouldn’t have happened.
“Let me know when you’re secure,” he told Cody. “Then we can figure out which one of us losers is in better shape to drive to the ER.”