Chapter 13 #2
There’s Shayna, of course, along with Kelsey and Alyssa.
I’m pretty sure the brunette talking to them is named Tess, if I remember correctly from the winter trivia night my sister held at her house a few months ago.
Then there’s Kelsey’s boyfriend, Tyler, and both of my parents.
Thank goodness Mallory is visiting Griffin; they’d probably be overflowing onto the street, otherwise.
My mom spots me first as I step onto the small square of a front porch.
“Connor,” she chides as she squeezes around the group to get to me.
“Why didn’t you tell us you had more stuff to move in?
We gladly would’ve helped.” Her eyes glimmer with hurt that leaves me feeling like a horrible son. “Thank goodness Shayna called us.”
It’s no use. No matter how much I try to do things on my own, to not hurt those around me, I always end up saying or doing something that inevitably leads to disappointing the people I care most about. “Sorry, Mom. I didn’t want to make you come back out for another load.”
“We want to be here for you.” She steps closer.
I’m not a hugger, but I can tell this is something she needs.
I open my arms, careful to balance my mug so I don’t burn her, and my mom pulls me into a tight embrace.
I let her hold on for as long as she needs, even though physical contact makes me uncomfortable the second it starts.
When she loosens her hold, I step back and take a sip of my coffee.
“I’ll try to remember that,” I say.
She smiles and gestures to the group on my lawn. “Go ahead and greet your guests.”
I hadn’t planned on it. Talking to large groups, even when they’re comprised of people I know, always makes my body tense up and my palms clammy.
“Right.” I step onto the grass and everyone turns to me.
I swallow hard. It’s just friends and family.
They won’t care what I say. I take a deep breath, then open my mouth, hoping something resembling a coherent sentence will come out.
“Thanks for coming to help. Really appreciate you all taking time out of your week to be here. I—” When I spot the moving truck rolling down the street, I sigh in relief.
“I think the movers are pulling up now.”
Everyone turns to face the road, and I use the distraction to wipe away the fresh beads of sweat that have formed on my forehead.
I know there’s no need to be this nervous, but I can’t help it.
As someone who tries to keep the majority of my life private, it feels scary knowing people are about to see the projects that feel oddly personal.
Once the moving truck is parked in front of my house, they hop out and open the back, revealing the large variety of projects I made over the last few years.
“Con, what is all this?” My mom stares at the contents of the truck in awe.
“Some wood projects.”
“You made all this?” she asks, and I reluctantly nod.
“They’re amazing.” Tess shoots me an impressed look.
Shayna sidles up next to me and squeezes my arm. “Connor, I know you said you picked this up as a hobby, but I didn’t expect this.”
Alyssa’s jaw drops. “How can I buy some of your pieces?”
“I don’t sell them.” I look at my feet, kicking a random rock on the road.
“Why not?” Kelsey balks, sounding exactly like I’d expect my sister to if she were here.
“They’re not professional.”
“Not professional?” This time, it’s my dad who sounds personally affronted.
My mom looks from my projects to me. “You’re kidding, right? I’d be lucky to feature any of these items in my house and tell every single visitor exactly where it came from.”
“Because I’m your son.”
She shakes her head. “No, because pieces like this deserve to be seen.”
I’ve never been good at accepting compliments. It’s awkward to have people tell you how amazing or talented or handsome you are. Especially because I think people often expect a compliment in return. But I’d get all anxious and probably say something ridiculous like I like your face.
The guy I’ve been in contact with throughout this cross-country move reaches out and shakes my hand. “Where do you want us to put everything?”
“The shed out back.”
“Copy that.” He and the other mover start unloading the truck.
My unpacking crew turns to me.
“How can we help?” my mom asks.
“Maybe figuring out how to organize all my projects once they’re unloaded. Some of them require two people to lift.”
“You heard the man,” Kelsey says, and everyone moves to the back of the house.
“Did you not have to work today?” I ask everyone as we walk, surprised so many people would show up on a Wednesday morning.
“I moved a few clients around,” Alyssa says.
“My PA is covering my appointments for the morning,” Tyler pitches in.
Tess pulls her long brown hair back into a ponytail. “I was already taking the day off to run errands, so this just became my first stop of the day.”
They all step into the shed while I stand outside, stunned that they would show up at the last minute for me.
I’ve had a lot of teammates over the course of my life, between sports and my job at the station, but I’ve never had many friends.
I know my parents would drop anything to help me, but the fact that my sister’s friends are willing to show up when I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to deserve it leaves me feeling unusually emotional.
Shayna pops her head out of the shed. “Are you coming?”
I nod and follow her inside, where I find everyone looking around the space.
“Connie, I can’t believe you have such a knack for woodworking.” I’ve always hated my mom’s nickname for me, but she’s the woman who birthed me, so I suck it up. She turns to me, teary-eyed. “This is amazing.”
I glance around the space, trying to take in the room with fresh eyes.
All of my project lumber is shelved on the walls in neat rows.
One side of the room is bare, ready to be filled with the pieces the movers are about to bring in, while I have a giant table that will hold my different saws and woodworking tools on the other side.
My current project, a custom coatrack to go next to my front door, is out on the table, waiting to be sanded one more time before I stain it.
“It’s not much.” I mean, I did buy this house primarily for the large shed, knowing I could use it as a project space, but it’s nothing compared to the massive workshops some people have.
“Not much? This is more than a hobby, son.” My dad claps me on the shoulder.
Everyone makes small remarks of agreement. I rock awkwardly on my heels, not knowing how to accept all their praise. Thankfully, the mover comes in, carrying one of my larger benches. I direct them to the corner of the unused area.
While everyone else seems distracted by the projects coming in, Shayna approaches me. “You’re seriously talented, Connor.”
I shrug. “It’s just a hobby.”
“It’s not just anything.” Shayna turns and places her hands on both of my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. “It’s art.”
There’s a sincerity in her words and gaze that makes me feel proud of my work. Like it’s not just something she’s saying to puff me up, but because she actually means it.
“I think I need to add an amendment to our deal.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“We’re going to work on your confidence. No more doubting yourself.” She gestures around the shed. “Not when you’re this talented.”
It’s my biggest weakness: self-doubt. I’m not sure it’s something that can magically be fixed over the span of a few weeks.
My insecurity doesn’t only apply to my wood projects; it overflows into nearly every aspect of my life.
My job. My inability to choose the right words whenever I’m talking to people.
My now nonexistent dating life. How am I supposed to be confident when the only person I’ve ever dated brought up every aspect of who I am and smashed it to smithereens?
I frown. “I thought we already had a deal?”
“That was before I realized you can’t take a compliment and don’t believe in your art.”
I press my lips into a firm line. She’s not going to let this go, which means I only have one option here. “I guess you have yourself a new deal.”
Shayna smiles. “You won’t regret it.”
She’s wrong—because I already do.