16. Kel #2
Walking out onto the front porch, I run my hand along one of the thick white support columns.
The concrete slab is solid, and the structure holds firm under my boots.
The new wood for the ramp will need a wash with deck cleaner and a fresh coat of stain and sealant to match the paint.
I can handle the prep work down in the yard.
I measure the drop from the concrete steps down to the concrete path, calculating the slope to form a smooth, gentle incline.
Stepping into the shed, I measure and cut several pieces of treated timber to construct a level landing platform box.
This box will sit directly over the existing steps to bring the landing flush with the doorway.
I carry the framed box out to the porch steps and set it in place over the concrete steps.
Using a hammer drill, I bore deep holes through the bottom plates of the wooden box and down into the concrete below.
I drive the blue concrete screws through the timber and deep into the masonry, anchoring the landing box so it stands rock-solid.
Next, I cut the long stringer joists for the ramp incline.
I lay a four-foot level across the bottom of the wood and draw a straight line, slicing the angle with the circular saw so the ramp transitions perfectly flush with the concrete path.
Back at the porch, I set the top of the joists against my anchored platform box.
I use galvanized metal hanger brackets and drive thick hex-head structural screws through the steel to lock the joists into the frame, ensuring they can handle the weight of the ramp.
I clamp thick 4x4 upright posts to the outer joist frames.
I use a power drill to bore clean holes through both the timber and the joists, driving steel carriage bolts through the holes to lock them in place with washers and nuts.
These posts will support the handrails and stabilize the entire frame against the ground.
Sweat drips down my back and pools in my collar. I pull my t-shirt over my head, toss it onto a patio chair, and get back to work. My shoulders burn with the effort. Building this ramp satisfies the craving to protect and provide for her.
Around noon, the front door opens. Vayda steps out onto the concrete porch. She holds a paper plate with a thick turkey sandwich and a cold bottle of water.
"You're working fast." Vayda walks down the steps, her gaze tracking my progress.
"Thanks. I'm starving." I set the drill down to accept the plate and the water bottle from her. Our fingers brush.
"Are all pro hockey players carpenters on the side?" A teasing smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. She leans her forearm against one of the white columns, watching me take a bite of the sandwich.
"Just the ones who like working with their hands." I swallow the bite, pointing the sandwich toward the porch.
"Hale used to skate for the Coldwater Rooks before an ACL injury forced a retirement. He poured it after his knee surgery healed so he had a flat place to sit." Vayda traces her fingers along the smooth paint of the column.
"Hale Langdon. He played a hell of a game." I take a sip of the cold water, looking up at her.
"He loved the sport." Vayda nods, a quiet pride settling over her features.
"He poured a solid porch, too. I respect his work." I run my hand over the concrete edge.
"You match his craftsmanship. Thanks for doing this for Bren. I need to go get his lunch ready." She steps back toward the door, offering a genuine smile.
"I'll have it ready for a test run after he eats. Go take care of him." I set the half-eaten sandwich on the plate and pick up my drill.
Vayda heads back inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
I lay the rest of the decking boards tight across the angled joists, driving deck screws down to secure them.
Since the pressure-treated pine is wet, clamping the boards tight ensures they dry with seamless joints as they shrink.
Along the outer edges of the ramp deck, I install raised 2x4 guard boards to serve as a safety curb, keeping the wheels of Brendan's chair on the ramp.
I have a lot of work left to finish before the sun goes down.
A few hours grind by. The mild afternoon sun warms my bare back while my muscles burn with a deep ache. I work fueled by the leftover adrenaline of last night's milestone and the stubborn need to finish this project today.
Using a circular saw, I cut the tops of the 4x4 posts at the angle of the ramp's incline.
I run a clean 2x4 handrail over the top, letting it overhang by eight inches at the bottom.
I screw a second, parallel rail to the inside of the posts, creating a double-height grip option for different heights.
I test the stability, shoving my weight against the handrails. The entire structure holds firm, strong enough to keep Brendan's chair secure.
I grab a block of sandpaper from the grass and walk along the length of the new railing, smoothing out the rough edges. I run my bare palm over the wood to make sure it feels flush and safe for Brendan to use. I take extra care on the corners, rounding the angles off.
Wally's SUV pulls into the driveway, the tires crunching over the gravel near the new path. Wally kills the engine, and both doors swing open. He and Simon hop out of the vehicle and walk over to the porch.
"This is massive, Kel. You built this entire thing in an afternoon?" Wally walks up the ramp, stomping his boots to test the stability.
"I had the time." I set the sandpaper down on a step.
"You did a clean job on the joints." Simon runs his hand along the sanded handrail.
"Go inside and see him. I'm going to throw a coat of stain on it to match the house before the sun goes down." I reach for the bucket of deep amber wood stain.
"We'll hang out with him in the living room while you finish up." Wally nods, heading up the steps with Simon.
The front door opens and they head inside, their voices drifting through the screen before the inner door clicks shut.
Once the sanding is complete, I open the bucket of wood stain.
I use a wide paintbrush to coat the fresh pine, working the pigment deep into the grain.
The rich, warm color transforms the raw lumber, matching the weathered tone of the house.
I follow the stain with a clear coat of weather-sealant to shield the wood from rain and snow.
"This is huge, Kel. You built and stained this whole thing in a few hours?" Vayda steps out onto the concrete porch, holding a tall glass of ice water. She stands at the top of the ramp, looking down at the fresh, sealed boards.
"I told you I had the time." I drop the paintbrush into a tin can and walk over to the concrete steps to take the glass from her. Our fingers brush. I down the water in three huge gulps, the freezing liquid hitting the back of my parched throat.
"Slow down, you'll make yourself sick." A teasing smirk plays on her lips.
"I grew up playing hockey in frozen rinks. My body handles ice water fine. I just finished the stain and sealant. It needs to dry, but the frame is ready." I set the empty glass on the concrete porch step.
"They are hanging out with Bren in the living room right now. They told me how solid it feels." Vayda steps off the concrete porch onto the side grass to stand next to me.
"I'm good with my hands, but you already know that." I wink at her with a suggestive smirk.
She rolls eyes at the joke, but a flush creeps up her neck.
Wiping my forehead with the hem of my dirty t-shirt, I smear sawdust and sweat across my face.
"I need to put these away in the shed." I lift the tool belt from the top of the ramp, slinging over my shoulder before picking the power drill up from the grass.
"I'll come with you." Vayda follows me as I walk across the yard toward Hale's old workshed in the back.
The solid wooden door creaks open as I turn the knob. The cooler air inside offers a quiet retreat from the bright yard. Sunlight pours through the wide windows above the workbench, catching the sawdust floating in the air.
Walking over to the wooden workbench, I set the drill down and drop the leather tool belt onto the wood.
I unclip the drill bit and place it right back in the organizer.
Hale's tools have their specific spots, and I respect the history in this room.
I make sure every wrench, every screw, and every tool returns to the exact spot I found it.
I want to show her I respect the Alphas who came before me.
The familiar smell of cedar and motor oil hits my nose, bringing the memory of her heat to the surface. My cock twitches behind the zipper of my jeans at the thought of her in here with me.
The solid wooden door swings shut. The deadbolt clicks into place, blocking the outside noise.
I turn around. Vayda leans against the closed wooden door. The sunlight from the window hits the side of face, highlighting the curve of her jaw and the hungry look in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" My voice drops.
"Simon said the documentary has about twenty minutes left. He and Wally are glued to the screen with Brendan. They plan to stay inside until it ends." Her voice sounds low and tight.
She pushes off the door and steps into my space. The distance between us vanishes. The scent of fresh lavender rolls off her warm skin, mixed with the distinct scent of her arousal. She's soaking wet. Just standing here turns her on.
"20 minutes." My throat feels dry.
"Yeah." She steps closer, sliding her hands up to grip my broad shoulders.
"I appreciate the ramp, Kel. Letting Brendan enjoy the yard changes everything for us." She tilts her head back, looking up at me through her dark lashes.
"I wanted to build it." I drag my thumb across her cheek.
"Last night woke me up. I used to have a high sex drive before the crash. I shut that part of myself down until I met you guys. I spent the entire day thinking about you. Being out here alone with you right now makes me crazy." A flush creeps up her neck.