5. Julian
CHAPTER 5
JULIAN
T he morning starts off like any other, quickly getting myself ready for the day before waking up Aria for breakfast.
She always rubs her eyes the same way before she opens them and looks up at me, her dark lashes fluttering in the morning sunshine. Her tiny arms wrapping around my neck as I lift her out of bed is one of my very favorite moments of the day, and I hold her for as long as I can afford before setting her down and helping her get dressed.
Aria's honey brown curls are an absolute disaster every morning, and today is no exception. I plop her in front of her breakfast so I can set to work detangling and reshaping; a skill I've taught myself over the past six years with much thanks to YouTube. Just as I've secured her favorite blue bow on the left side of her head, the babysitter arrives.
I absolutely hate leaving Aria every morning. It got a little easier once she started kindergarten, but now that it's summer break, the guilt rips at my chest the way it used to when I had to leave her at daycare. Reminding myself that I am leaving Aria with one of the very best sitters Mariposa has to offer, I give my daughter a kiss, and set out for work.
I'm anxious to get to the Langford Building today. There’s still so much to be done, and we lost a bit of time dealing with the window incident. And, I have to admit, I’m eager to see a certain blonde.
But as I pull up to the site, a silent alarm sets off in my brain; something is off—again. A cluster of my guys are huddled around the scaffolding on the west side, all of them talking over each other in various levels of distress.
Adrenaline floods my system as I make my way over to group, dreading what it could be this time. "What's going on?” I demand.
The crew parts, and the sight that greets me sends a surge of rage through my body. The scaffolding, meticulously erected to cradle the aging bones of the Langford, lies in a tangled mess on the ground. It's a deliberate act, the metal supports twisted and torn down with force.
Thankfully, the building itself seems untouched, spared from further harm, but the setback is a sizeable one, and every member of my team can feel it. Days of work, gone in what must have been moments of destruction.
"How did this happen?" I ask, scanning the faces of my crew for answers.
Gabriel steps forward, his expression grim. "It was like this when we got here, Julian. No idea who did it or how."
The questions pile up, one on top of the other. How could this happen? Why didn't anyone see anything? Hear anything? My eyes squeeze shut. Of course, the Langford Building's isolation, its position just far enough from the center of town, makes it an easy target for such a cowardly act.
This has to be connected to the vandalism Natalie already experienced. How could it not be? I know there's no evidence of it, but it's just too much of a coincidence to not link the two together.
The realization that we're not just battling time and decay but an active saboteur intent on derailing our efforts sets a fresh fire in my gut. This project is more than just a job; it's a testament to our skill, our dedication to preserving history.
And someone's trying to tear that down, piece by piece. What motivation could they have for something so needlessly deplorable?
Determined to get to the bottom of this, I rally the crew. "We're not letting this stop us. We'll rebuild the scaffolding, and we'll double down on security. We're not going to give whoever is doing this the satisfaction."
The team is in full swing, a whirlwind of activity as we work double time to rectify the chaos left in the wake of the destroyed scaffolding. It's amidst this frenzy that Natalie arrives, her presence strangely a calm in the storm.
She looks beautiful again today, though more casual; hair pulled away from her face, an oversized button-down, and tight-fitting pants that hint at the feminine curves hiding beneath her billowing top. My ears begin to warm, and I push the thought away as quickly as it appeared.
"Careful where you step," I call out as she navigates through the remnants scattered around the site. "The scaffolding was torn down last night. We're still clearing up the mess."
Natalie's brows knit together in concern, her gaze sweeping over the disarray. "What happened?" she asks, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
"I wish I knew. It was like this when we got here.” I shake my head, my frustration only growing with the realization that this is yet another devastating blow to Natalie, with how much is riding on this project for her. “It set us back, but we'll get it sorted."
Before we can delve deeper into conversation, another familiar figure approaches, catching me off guard. It's Jack, Natalie's brother, and my once best friend. The sight of him stirs something in me, the same way an old photograph of happy faces grows discolored with nostalgic sadness.
"Jack?" My surprise is evident, the sight of him throwing me even further off balance.
Natalie steps in, smoothing over the awkwardness. "I brought Jack in to consult on the Statuary. He's here for the art restoration."
That makes sense, yet it does little to ease the tension that's sprung up between Jack and me. I haven't seen Jack in quite a while. There was never an intentional separation between us, we just grew up and drifted apart as childhood friends so often do. Up until now, I had still considered us to be friends—or friendly, at least—but maybe my lack of reaching out offended him. Unlike his sister, Jack is impossible to read. Always has been.
We exchange a brief, somewhat stiff greeting, the undercurrent of our past friendship making the moment all the more uncomfortable.
Jack, either oblivious to my discomfort or pointedly ignoring it, dives right into the task at hand. "I heard about the vandalism. It's a shame, but I'm here to make sure the art gets the care it deserves."
His professionalism is a reminder of the shared goal that's brought us all together, despite the personal histories and complications between us. With a nod, I agree. "We appreciate the help. The sooner we get this renovation underway, the better."
As Natalie and Jack disappear inside, I can't help but let my gaze linger on Natalie a moment too long, even as I begin climbing the ladder up the wall of the building. It's an involuntary reaction, but one that gratefully reminds me I'm still a living, breathing male.
Unfortunately, though, when my foot slips on the ladder rung, I’m also reminded of my current position at this work site with a heart-stopping lurch.
From the ground, Gabriel lets out a chuckle, having caught the tail end of my lapse in concentration. "Easy there, boss. Wouldn't want you to fall for anyone too hard."
I regain my balance, brushing off the near mishap with a forced laugh. "Just assessing the damage from a higher vantage point," I retort, hoping my nonchalance is enough to make him drop the subject.
Gabriel grins, but thankfully, he doesn't push any further. With a shake of my head, I refocus on the task at hand, the image of Natalie's swaying hips slowly fading from the forefront of my mind as the gravity of the situation reasserts itself.
The afternoon wears on, the work grueling and slow. Rebuilding the scaffolding isn't just a matter of physical labor; it's a battle against the clock and the unseen adversary who's taken it upon themself to hinder our progress.
The deliberate nature of the sabotage weighs heavily on my mind—if there have already been two acts of vandalism in such a short time, there's bound to be another. Hopefully increasing security will prevent any more incidents. But I still can't manage to shake that nagging feeling that there's something more to this than we're aware of.
As the day draws to a close, the skeleton of the scaffolding once again begins to take shape, a testament to the team's hard work and determination, but the victory is tinged with the unease of knowing we're being targeted.
Gathering the crew, I lay out the next steps. "We've done good work today, but we can't ignore the fact that this was intentional. Starting tonight, we're getting security to watch the place. I'll also look into setting up some outdoor cameras. We need to catch whoever's behind this."
As my crew hums in agreement and disperses, I spot Natalie and Jack preparing to leave. Natalie's hair is tied all the way up now, short blonde strands escaping in a way that frame her face, lending her an air of casual, unguarded charm. There's something about this more relaxed, informal version of her that I find unexpectedly endearing.
Approaching them, I clear my throat, drawing their attention. "Hey, just wanted to let you know we're ramping up security around here. Getting someone to watch the place at night and looking into setting up some cameras outside."
Jack nods, his expression serious. "Sounds like a good plan. Can't be too careful, especially after what happened."
I catch a flicker of something in his gaze, a hint of protectiveness, maybe, as he seems to notice my attention lingering on Natalie a moment too long. The air between us tightens.
"Let me walk you out to the parking lot," I offer, eager to dispel the building tension and perhaps steal a few more moments of Natalie's company.
The walk is filled with Jack's attempts at small talk, conversations about the project and the town, but the ease that should accompany such discussions is absent. Every word feels strained, every pause laden with things unsaid.
Natalie finally breaks an uncomfortably long silence, her voice cutting through the tension with practiced ease. "I hope we catch this guy soon. It makes me sick to see the Langford like this; all covered in scaffolding and security cameras. I just want the town to see it the way we do."
Her words, grounded in the shared purpose of our work, offer a momentary respite from the undercurrents of personal history swirling between us.
Yet, as she speaks, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, my attention is drawn not just to her words but to the subtle details of her: the way the light plays in her hair, the soft pout of her lips, the undone buttons on her shirt offering a glimpse of something more intimate. It's a moment of unguarded appreciation, one I shouldn't have let slip, and it's swiftly curtailed by Jack's sharp glance.
His glare is a stark reminder that Natalie and I aren’t alone, and so many old feelings rush over me again. Jack never approved of the crush I harbored for Natalie during our teenage years, my being an older, punk kid, and her being his baby sister. And when she left town, it only served to widen the gap between Jack and me.
In the years since, our friendship has been marked by an unspoken strain, the remnants of old disagreements and unsaid truths lingering like shadows. I always meant to sort things out with him, but so many other things happened that drew my attention to more pressing matters.
As I meet Jack's gaze, the silent message is clear. Some lines aren't meant to be crossed; some pasts are better left unexplored. The warning stings, a pinch of regret for what might have been and the paths we've chosen since. Jack seems to hold the same distrust for me that I’ve already felt from Natalie in the past few days.
I mutter a quiet goodbye as Natalie and Jack climb into their car, the engine coming to life with a soft purr. The vehicle pulls away, its taillights glowing faintly in the dusk, and I'm left standing in the emptying parking lot, feeling as if something precious has been torn away from me all over again.