Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Emily
Areturn to work doesn’t come with the excitement I expected.
Around me, my work crew talks about their weekend while drinking coffee and eating the muffins that arrived with the Monday morning water taxi.
Leif never cashed in his rain check, and I had busied myself knocking projects off my list, catching up on the blanket I was in the middle of crocheting, and the wood carvings for end-of-year gift donations.
The empty seat near the helm, where Leif always prefers to sit, draws my attention. With Quinn now attending school in Pinecrest, there’s no way to casually bump into Leif to check in with him.
My phone burns in my pocket. I could check it. I could text him again. I could pick at this wound until it bleeds afresh.
Instead, I curl my fingers tighter around the railing, the vibration of the engines rumbling through the metal and into my bones. Thirty yards out, a seal breaks the surface, sleek head gleaming in the morning sun before it disappears again, and the sight breaks through my heavy thoughts.
With a mental shake, I unlock my tablet and pull up the material manifest, calculating the quantities of rebar and concrete needed for tomorrow’s pour.
This, at least, I can control.
“Approaching the dock in five,” Kyle calls from the wheelhouse.
I tuck the tablet away and turn toward the bow. Misty Pines grows larger with each second. Four cabins sit up the hill from the waterline, and pride fills me. We built those, and soon, we’ll build half a dozen more.
As the ferry comes up to the dock with a solid bump, I gather my gear and secure my tool belt, its familiar weight settling around my hips.
“Happy to be back at work, boss?” Clint comes up beside me as Jared anchors the water taxi. “Did you manage to relax at all?”
“Got some things done around the cottage.” I grab the side of the boat and jump over, landing on the dock. “What about you?”
“Got to take my kids hiking. Little shits complained the whole time about there being no cell signal.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “Gotta grab time with them while I can. They’ll be graduating from high school before I know it.”
As we walk up the path toward the worksite, he regales me with stories of spotting a black bear and his kids wanting to pet it.
“Not a lick of sense to share between the two!” He slaps his gloves on his thigh.
At the cleared worksite, we grab hard hats from the safety equipment.
Clint squints at the sky. “Think the weather will hold out for the pour tomorrow?”
“It better. We have some catching up to do if we want to have everyone settled after the holiday season.” I scan the busy site. “Let’s walk the perimeter before the crew meeting.”
Clint falls into step beside me as we circle the area where tomorrow’s pour will happen. The excavation remains clean, the forms assembled with the care I demand from my crew. I crouch at the edge, running my fingers along the top of the wooden form.
“Drainage slope checks out,” I note, brushing dirt from my hands as I stand. “How’s the rebar delivery coming along?”
“Still cut and staged.” Clint points toward the covered materials area. “The place didn’t fall apart just because we took two weeks off.”
I straighten. “Let’s double-check the spacing on the support grid. I want extra reinforcement at the north corner where the groundwater runs highest.”
Clint grumbles but follows along. He’s well used to my need to double and triple-check, especially at the foundation level. If we mess up here, the whole job is affected. If we spend a little extra time now, it will save us in the end.
As we move through the site, my boots crunch on gravel and wood chips.
“Drain tile?” I ask, peering into a trench that runs alongside the foundation form.
“Going in this afternoon.” Clint adds a note to his clipboard. “We’ve got the new four-inch pipe you specified.”
This conversation carries the comfort of a well-worn jacket. Here, my expertise isn’t questioned, and my decisions shape physical reality.
We arrive at the trailer and step inside, where the air sits heavy and damp from two weeks without ventilation.
I stride to the blueprint table, where the day’s plans spread out, weighted at the corners with chunks of rock. The paper crinkles under my fingers as I trace the foundation lines, comparing what’s drawn before me to what’s dug into the earth.
“Shift this support column six inches east.” I mark the change on the blueprint, my pencil making a firm, straight line. “We’ll need to adjust the load calculation, but it’ll give us cleaner access to the utility chase.”
Clint leans in, considering the adjustment. “Good call. I’ll have Devin recalculate the loads before we set the forms for that section.”
I continue marking adjustments, my handwriting compact.
“Morning crew meeting in five,” calls a voice from outside the trailer.
I fold the blueprint along its creases, tucking it under my arm. “Let’s review the week’s schedule with everyone. I want to make sure we’re aligned on priorities if that storm front moves in faster than predicted.”
As I leave the trailer and walk toward the gathering crew, my shoulders straighten, and my stride lengthens.
The sun breaks through a band of clouds, casting golden light across the construction site. I lift my hand to shield my eyes, taking in the full scope of what we’re building. It’s not just cabins, but spaces where people will make memories and start new chapters in their lives.
As I reach the circle of waiting workers, their faces turned toward me in expectation.
“All right, team,” I call, the sound carrying clean across the site. “Let’s talk about how we’re going to make this week count.”
On Tuesday, the tap-thump of Grady’s cane on packed earth catches my attention before I see him. He picks his way toward me with careful steps, skirting lumber piles and toolboxes. A yellow hard hat sits perched atop his head.
When he spots me by the foundation forms, his mouth quirks into the half-smile I’ve grown to anticipate.
I wave a blueprint tube at him. “Careful where you step. We just marked new trenching lines.”
“Bold of you to assume I can see the ground past my feet.” He navigates around a stack of lumber, his cane finding solid footing. “Some of us have to pay attention to where we’re going or end up face-first in cement.”
“We could dig one more hole and put down a cabin for you, too,” I call as he approaches. “Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”
Grady snorts, shaking his head. “Don’t joke where Chloe can hear, or I’ll end up with a mini Homestead whether I’m ready or not.”
The morning sun warms my neck as I walk to meet him, sparing him the extra steps. “What brings you to my dusty corner of paradise?”
Grady leans his hip on a sawhorse to give his bad leg a break as his hazel eyes scan the clearing. “I’m here for the grand tour.”
“Well, it’s not much to look at yet.” I point to the eastern edge of the clearing. “Those five cabin foundations are poured and curing. Framing starts next week. The staff quarters you’re standing next to will get concrete tomorrow.”
Grady studies the wooden forms. “These are smaller than the guest cabins.”
“Good eye. Staff quarters are built for efficiency, not luxury.” I tap the blueprint. “But they’ll have better insulation and upgraded heating systems.”
A worker walks past, waving to us. The site hums with activity around us, voices calling back and forth, and I breathe in the ordered chaos of creation.
“It’s amazing how all of this will result in livable cabins,” he says with awe. “I bet Leif’s eager to move out of his hotel and into one of these bad boys. Which one will be his?”
I point to the footprint at the far end. “It will have a little extra yard space and privacy.”
He nudges my foot with his cane. “Are you playing favorites, Ms. Wilson?”
“Don’t know what you mean, Mr. Finch.” I lean sideways and bump my shoulder against his, careful not to upset his balance. “The numbering ended up that way by pure accident.”
“Sure, sure.” He covers his mouth with one hand to hide his amusement. “I believe you.”
“Have you talked to him lately?” The question slips out before I can stop it. “Leif?”
Grady studies me, too perceptive. “He’s been busy with Quinn’s schedule. I haven’t seen much of him since she started at Pinecrest Academy.”
“Right.” I turn toward the next foundation outline, changing the subject. “How is your new article coming along?”
He hums in thought. “Still pulling the pieces together. Not sure how it will shape up yet.”
“Is that why you’re taking a walkabout in the middle of the morning?” I guess.
“Guilty as charged.” He rubs the back of his neck. “At this stage, it’s like looking at the pieces of a puzzle without knowing the final image. But it will come together.”
I resist the desire to reach out and rub the tension from his shoulders. “Jared had an idea I wanted to run by you. Saturday lunch after market day. Nothing fancy, just food and conversation at our place.”
Grady shifts to face me. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.” I shrug, keeping my focus on the site rather than his reaction. “Jared thought it might be fun to have people over.”
Grady cocks his head to the side. “Only Jared?”
Heat rises to my cheeks. Six months ago, I would never have had the guts to make the invitation.
“Not only Jared.” I purse my lips. “I apologize if I’ve been too subtle about enjoying your company.”
“Not too subtle. I enjoy hearing it, though.” He shifts his attention forward again, somehow ending up closer now, and his arm brushes mine. “I would love to come enjoy a meal and company at your home. Should I bring anything?”
“Only your appetite.” A flutter starts up behind my rib cage. “I’ll probably make too much food.”
“You say that like it’s a problem.” Grady checks his watch. “I should let you return to work.”
I straighten. “Let me walk you back.”
“Now who’s avoiding work?” he teases.
“The ground here is uneven.” My hand finds the small of his back. “Can’t have another worksite accident.”
“One is more than enough for my lifetime.” He shudders. “And I’d be lying if I said this uneven ground didn’t wreak havoc with my leg.”
“One point in favor of the condo in Pinecrest?” I ask as we leave the job site and stop at the safety station.
“I’m still weighing my options.” Grady pulls his hat off and deposits it in the used bucket. He rakes a hand through his hair, setting his blond waves back to rights. “None of the units I’ve toured so far have called to me.”
We stroll along the straw-covered path toward the cabin where Grady is staying with Kyle.
The breeze carries pine sap and distant salt water, and he draws in a deep breath. “This island really does help clear my head—”
He cuts off as his cane catches on a shallow rut, and his foot comes down wrong, his bad leg buckling. A surprised sound escapes him as he tumbles toward the ground.
“Whoa, there!” I catch him by the forearm and waist, bracing my boots into the dirt to turn his fall so he tips toward me instead of the ground.
His hand grips my jacket, fingers digging in, and for a heartbeat, we’re tangled together, breath to breath.
“Got you,” I say, my pulse spiking.
He exhales shakily, forehead dipping until it almost brushes my shoulder. “Dammit. Sorry.”
“Hey.” I tighten my hold instead of letting go. “You didn’t fall. That’s a win.”
He laughs weakly and straightens, testing his balance before easing back an inch. My hands linger, the one at his waist flexing, the other warm around his arm.
“Thanks,” he says. “I hate that feeling. It’s as if my body just decides to give up sometimes.”
“You’re allowed to need help sometimes.”
“I know.” His mouth curves, soft and a little self-conscious. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Most people don’t.” I make sure he’s regained his balance before releasing him with effort. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Pride’s bruised. Leg’s fine.” He taps the ground with his cane before he faces me again. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
“Why would I?”
He lets out a long sigh, as if he can’t help himself.
“I enjoy this,” he confesses. “Being here. With you. The site, the walks, the lunch meetups. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t weigh in favor of staying on the island for now.”
I reach out to brush the hair back from his forehead. “I enjoy all of those things, too.”
My eyes drop to his mouth before I can stop myself, and his breath hitches.
My fingers drift to his jaw, tilting his chin up. I shouldn’t. Kissing Grady would add complications. But closing the distance is inevitable, and I’m already leaning in.
A high-pitched whistle cuts through the air.
“Boss!” One of the crew jogs toward us, clipboard tucked under his arm. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got an issue on the west forms. One anchor shows signs of movement.”
The moment snaps, and I step back, heat flooding my cheeks as I force my mind to shift gears. “Yeah. Give me one minute.”
Grady clears his throat, composure sliding back into place. “Sounds important.”
“It is,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Grady steps back to put an appropriate distance between us. “I should get back to work, too.”
“I can walk you the rest of the way,” I say, unable to stop myself. “If you want.”
“I want,” he murmurs. “But you’ve got a build to protect.”
Regret and relief tangle together.
“Saturday, then,” I say, needing the certainty of it. “Lunch at my place. Jared and I will pick you up from the Market.”
“Saturday,” he agrees. “I’ll bring my appetite.”
He turns toward the cabin, his cane searching out the solid parts of the path.
I stay until he follows the curve out of view before I turn back toward the worksite, heart racing, focus shot, and flushed with awareness of what almost happened.