Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
TUCKER
The paperwork avalanche at Colburn Restorations had turned into a full-blown landslide. I’d meant to just swing by for the staff meeting and clean out my inbox, maybe tackle a blueprint or two.
Ten very long hours later, I was still at my desk, neck-deep in estimates, design sketches, jobsite reports, and a to-do list so long, it needed its own zip code.
“That’s what you get for trying to do two full-time jobs at the same time,” Caleb said around a massive bite of his turkey club.
“You’re burning the candle at both ends, man.
You’re going to fall asleep on a fire call and end up on their social media accounts for the second time in a week thanks to being a cover model now. ”
I winced. That damn calendar was haunting my nightmares—and apparently, the town socials, thanks to the station blasting my shirtless, oiled-up calendar centerfold every-fucking-where. “Says the guy who has bags the size of a carry-on under his eyes.”
It was low-hanging fruit, but I was too exhausted to win a fight with a fellow Colburn.
“That’s because I spent eight hours in bed,” Caleb said, “but only six sleeping. The rest was all cardio.” He waggled his brows, like a stupid cartoon villain who’d had too much coffee. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”
“Want me to tell Emma you offered?”
He grinned. “Seeing as I’m your favorite sibling, you’d never.”
“Maybe Emma’s my favorite sibling.”
He gave me a pointed look. “Not Hazel?”
I looked up sharply, pulse ticking. “Nothing I feel for Hazel is anywhere close to sibling-like. Try again.”
He held up his hands in surrender, but his smirk said, Gotcha.
I shoved back from the desk, needing out. My brain was fried, my temper low, and my thoughts, unsurprisingly, were back on Hazel.
“Wait,” Caleb called. “You still owe me a favor. And I’m cashing it in.”
I turned slowly. “For what?”
He shot me that gotcha face again. “You crashed Ryder’s dirt bike into the irrigation ditch behind the high school, and I used my science project to make it seem like the brakes failed.”
“That was over a decade ago.”
“No statute of limitations on brotherly blackmail. I don’t make the rules.” He shoved a small shopping bag at me. “Drop these off at Kiera’s when you go pick up Hank.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“FMPs. Don’t ask.”
What the—
I peeked into the bag. Strappy black stilettos with a heel thin enough to double as a weapon. Sexy as hell.
Which meant I wasn’t sure if I needed a drink, a therapist, or a brain scrub. Possibly all three. “You’re telling me Kiera needs to borrow…fuck-me pumps?”
“Told you not to ask.”
Half an hour later, I let myself into Kiera’s house. The twins were snuggled on the couch with Hank, all three glued to an episode of Bluey with the kind of focus usually reserved for playoff games and natural disasters.
No one looked up, so I kept moving, following the scent of sugar and something buttery and the unmistakable scent of an impending meltdown masked in vanilla extract.
My sister baked only when she was spiraling.
Sure enough, her back to me, she had the oven open and was pulling out a tray of soft, puffy chocolate chip cookies with the desperate energy of someone trying to solve all her problems with carbs.
Miguel—Miguel?—stood nearby, leaning against the counter like he belonged there. Chill, grounded, his eyes locked on Kiera like she was the one holding the sun on its axis.
My brain hiccuped.
What is he doing here?
And were the FMPs for her to wear for him?
“But how am I supposed to keep Hazel’s secret from Tucker?
” Kiera asked, her voice rising an octave as she jabbed a wooden spoon into Miguel’s chest like it was a dagger.
“He’s my brother. I’ve never kept a secret from him.
” She paused. “Okay, maybe once, when I backed his truck into a mailbox and denied any knowledge of the dent.”
I stopped in the doorway.
All I’d heard was Hazel had a secret.
From me.
Miguel raised his hands. “Not saying you shouldn’t tell him. Just…that maybe if it’s not your secret, it’s not your call.”
“I know it’s not, but she’s confused. She didn’t want to tell me; I tricked her into it with baked goods and emotional blackmail!
I shared something first. I told her—” She snapped her mouth shut, looking halfway between panicked and mortified.
“Well, never mind what I told her. But then she owed me a secret, so I made her give me one. And it’s big, Miguel. It’s…Seattle big.”
I stepped into the room. “What’s in Seattle?”
Kiera jumped like she’d been goosed by an electric fence, nearly flinging her spatula. “Jesus, Tucker! You can’t just sneak up on people like that! I almost impaled you with this spoon.”
“Hazel. Seattle. Talk.”
Miguel gave me one look and wisely decided now was the time to overstir something on the stovetop.
Kiera was biting her lower lip. “Okay, look, this is really between you and Haze—”
“Then why do you know?”
“I lured it out of her with sugar and nostalgia.”
I looked at Miguel. “This is where you back me up.”
Miguel hesitated. “You know what? I’m just gonna—” He jabbed a finger to the living room like it was on fire.
Kiera grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Don’t you even think about leaving!”
Miguel brushed a kiss to her temple, a moment that somehow felt private and intimate, even permanent—then dropped another kiss on her mouth, soft and sure, before holding her gaze like she was the only person in the room.
Then he looked over her head at me—protective, unflinching—and disappeared into the next room.
If I hadn’t been in the middle of having my heart rearranged by Hazel, I’d have appreciated him standing at my sister’s back.
Instead, I muttered, “Did I just walk into The Bachelor: Drywall Edition?”
“Don’t start.” She crossed her arms. “Hazel’s scared. She didn’t know how to tell anyone, much less you.”
“Tell me what?”
Kiera studied her bare feet, like maybe they held the answers to the universe.
“Kiera.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t have to use that annoying alpha voice on me. What’s in the bag?”
I tossed it over.
She pulled out the heels and squealed. “They’re perfect.”
I plucked the bag back, holding it overhead. “Are those for you, or for Miguel?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Her expression went serious. Solemn. “Including Hazel’s secret.”
Something in my chest shifted, uneasy. “I’m going to need you to start talking now.”
Kiera sighed, long and heavy. “She got a job offer.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “A big one. A historic-restoration project with a yearlong contract. In Seattle.”
My stomach dropped, and the floor seemed to vanish under my boots. The air went tight. My ribs went tighter.
I’d told Hazel things I hadn’t even told myself out loud, and she still didn’t trust me with this? It wasn’t just the Seattle part.
It was what it meant—
That she was planning her future.
And I wasn’t even in the outline. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Probably because I don’t think she knows what to do.” She stepped forward, wrapping her hand around my forearm. “Does she know how you feel about her? Like really know?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Shit.
“I thought so,” Kiera said softly and drew a deep breath. “I think it would help.” She stepped back. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m glad someone told me.”
“Tucker, she’s not trying to hurt you.”
“She’s not trying to trust me either.” Not knowing what to do with myself or the storm raging inside my chest, I headed for the door.
Kiera darted in front of me, planting herself there like a five-foot-four blockade in yoga pants. “What are you going to do?”
I stared at her. “What everyone else seems to be doing lately.”
“What, stress bake and gain five pounds?”
I didn’t smile. I couldn’t. “Whatever the hell they want.”