Chapter 19 #2
“What are you doing?” I ask, fighting a smile despite everything.
His eyes finally meet mine, and there’s heat there. Want. But also that self-deprecating humor that’s so purely Cal. “Oh, nothing. Just, uh, admiring this ceiling. Very nice crown molding. Really excellent craftsmanship.”
A laugh bubbles out of me—surprised, genuine, desperately needed. “The ceiling.”
“Fascinating ceiling,” he confirms, his grin turning slightly sheepish. “Also, that wall. Very nice wall. And that corner over there? Top-notch corner work.”
“Cal.”
“What?” His amber eyes dance with mischief and something darker. “I’m being helpful. You asked me to hold the frame, I’m holding the frame. Where I look is my own business.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being a gentleman,” he corrects. “Because if I look at you right now, angel, in those pants and that—” He gestures vaguely at my tank top.
“I’m going to say things I shouldn’t say.
Do things I definitely shouldn’t do. And you asked for time, so I’m giving you time.
By admiring your excellent taste in ceiling architecture. ”
My chest goes tight. “Cal—”
“Next bolt,” he says firmly, looking back at the ceiling. “I’m ready when you are.”
I study him for a moment—this man who’s trying so hard to be what I need, to give me space while clearly dying to close the distance between us.
Who’s making jokes about ceilings to avoid staring at me like he used to.
Who’s holding my bed frame together with white-knuckled hands because he’s that close to breaking.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For the ceiling commentary? You’re welcome. I’ve got thoughts about the flooring too, if you’re interested.”
“For giving me time. For not pushing. For—” For still being you, even when everything’s changed. “For helping.”
His throat works as he swallows hard. “Always, Parker. I’ll always help you. Even if it means spending an entire afternoon staring at architectural features to avoid looking at you in yoga pants. But can you do me a solid? It’ll be the only thing I ask.”
“Sure.”
“Stop biting your lip. You’re killing me, angel.”
Another laugh escapes me, and I return to the drill, to the methodical work of assembly. Cal holds the pieces steady, making commentary about crown molding and baseboards that makes me giggle despite the tension, despite the weight of everything unsaid between us.
And for just a little while, in the warm afternoon light of my new bedroom, I let myself pretend that this could be normal. That we could be normal. That maybe, just maybe, when I finally tell them the truth, we might all survive it.
“Last bolt,” I announce, lining it up.
“Thank God,” Cal mutters. “I was running out of ceiling to appreciate.”
The drill whirs one final time, and the frame is complete—massive and solid and ready to hold me and my sons through whatever comes next.
“There.” I sit back on my heels, surveying the work. “Done.”
“Beautiful,” Cal says, and when I look at him, he’s finally looking at me again. Not at the ceiling or the walls or anywhere else. Just me. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“It’s just a bed frame.”
“I wasn’t talking about the bed frame.”
The air between us goes electric. Charged with years of wanting and yesterday’s revelations, and tomorrow’s inevitable confrontation.
“Cal—”
Footsteps on the stairs make us both freeze. Jace appears in the doorway, takes in the scene—Cal and me kneeling beside the assembled bed frame, the careful distance between us, the tension crackling in the air.
“Bunk bed’s done,” he announces, his steel-blue eyes moving from me to Cal and back again. “Silas is installing the safety rail now.” His gaze sharpens on my crop tank, and something flashes across his face before he controls it. “You need help with anything else?”
“I think we’ve got it,” Cal says, standing smoothly. “Parker’s very capable. Even if she does need assistance with ceiling appreciation.”
I roll my eyes, grateful for the levity even as my heart pounds. “The ceiling is fine.”
“The ceiling is excellent,” Cal corrects, offering me a hand up.
I take it, and he pulls me to my feet with that easy strength, his fingers lingering just a moment too long before he releases me.
“We should probably—” Jace starts, but a crash from upstairs followed by Silas’s creative cursing cuts him off.
“Sounds like the safety rail is going well,” Cal observes dryly.
“I’ll go help.” Jace gives me one last unreadable look. Then he’s gone, and Cal and I are alone again in the warm afternoon light.
“I should let you finish unpacking,” he says, backing toward the door. “Before I completely lose my ability to focus on ceiling architecture.”
“Cal.”
He pauses at the threshold. “Yeah, angel?”
“Thanks, again.”
His smile is soft. Genuine. Tinged with something that looks like hope. “Anytime. We’re right next door if you need us. Fifty yards away.”
“How do you feel about that? Being my neighbor?”
“Well, we do live by a very strict set of covenants in this community, so I’ll expect you to adhere to them like the good girl you are.”
“When have I ever followed your rules, Cal?”
Wh—why did I say that?
I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in my hands as he laughs.
“Careful, angel,” he finally says, and I lower my hands with a breath just as he’s walking away, “brattiness will only be tolerated for so long.” He winks and then disappears into the hallway, leaving me alone with my assembled bed frame and the crushing weight of secrets I’m running out of time to keep.
Through the window, I can see their guest house. Fifty yards away. Close enough that I could call out and they’d hear me. Far enough to feel like an ocean.
I return to unpacking, but my hands shake slightly as I pull linens from boxes and make the massive bed.
Brattiness, he said.
Well, I guess I’ll have to borrow a cup of sugar from somewhere.