16. Ladder, Chandelier, Freefall #2
“You were going to do this alone,” he says. His voice is quiet, but I can hear the edge underneath it. I don’t know if he’s angry.
“I was doing it alone.”
“You were hanging from a banister.”
“Yeah, temporarily. But I wasn’t going to be there all day.” I make a cringy expression. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He looks up. His jaw tightens, and a subtle shift in his expression makes my chest tight. I can’t tell if he’s about to say something or swallow it back down.
He looks around at what I was doing and where the ladder is. “The ladder base needs to go against the wall on the left side,” he says. “Not where you had it.”
“There’s a floorboard lip on the left side.”
“I know. And now that I’m here, I’ll even brace it for you.”
I look at him, fighting a smile. “So we’re doing this together, huh? Subtle, by the way.”
“Yeah, and I thought so too.” He stands, snaps the first aid kit shut, and sets it on the hall table beside the chandelier bracket. “You still want it up today?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m tired of waking up in a horror movie.”
He tilts his head, expression entirely too innocent. “And hanging from a banister fourteen feet in the air isn’t a horror movie? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that scene somewhere right before?—”
I hit him on the shoulder.
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” I sass back.
The corner of his mouth pulls up. “I thought so. But enough playing around. No more monkey business.” He picks up his hat from the hall table and puts it back on his head. “If you’re done hanging around, let’s get this thing up. Shall we?”
I give him a look.
He’s already reaching for the ladder.
He resets the ladder and braces the base with his boots while I climb. I grip the rungs like a lifeline, but soon find my bearings and loosen my hold enough for me to locate the joist again. I drill the hook, and from below, Bo talks me through checking the weight tolerance.
“Anthony and I did this several years ago in Pearl’s dining room,” Bo called up the ladder. “Remember to test the weight by pulling on it and looking for any give. It should look and feel solid. Think swinging from the chandelier is strong.” He chuckles when I whip around.
“Is that the only analogy you can think of?”
“Nope, but it made you look.”
“What, are you ten?” I shook my head.
His laugh made me smile, and the tension in my shoulders relaxed. “See, I can be useful.” He teased when I pulled on the brace and lifted myself up a little, testing the weight.
“It’s good,” I announced, then hung up the chandelier and climbed back down the ladder.
“You did good. Looks nice.” Bo grinned, bumping his shoulder against mine.
“It only took forty minutes, and a bit of teasing from you. But all in all, the light was installed, and I learned a new skill. So, in essence, it was a win-win.”
I flip the wall switch, and the lights turn on.
It isn’t the haunted, scary movie dim. It is a warm and inviting brightness that an entryway is supposed to have.
The chandelier cast soft light across the entire entryway, highlighting the patina on the cast iron and giving me a glimpse of what the old house used to look like.
I stand at the bottom of the stairs and look up at it for a long moment. This is what I loved. Every time I fixed or restored a piece of the old place, it was like I was rebuilding a memory. I sigh in satisfaction.
“There it is,” Bo says quietly. “Worth it?”
I don’t answer right away. I thought back to the night I dragged it home in a truck bed, had it rewired, waited for it, tripped over it, and almost fell trying to hang it.
“Yeah,” I say. “It was worth the fall, the life-threatening squeaky toy, and every penny it cost.” I was grinning from ear to ear.
I could see Bo looking at me, instead of the light from the corner of my eye. Rowdy is between us, tail moving slowly, and for a moment, all was right with the world.
Then, Bo took a few steps and moved next to me. His shoulder against mine until he placed his arm around my shoulders. Instantly, I became aware, all at once, and I tried my hardest to keep my heart from beating out of my chest and my breathing calm, even if I felt anything but.
“Bo,” I say, and my voice is quiet and a little breathy.
“Falon.”
I turn toward him at the same time he turns toward me.
I can see desire in his eyes, and this time, I lean in ever so slowly. I want to snake my arms around him, but I fight to keep my hands at my sides.
He doesn’t pull back this time. He looks at me, and I hope he’ll lean in too. Rowdy starts to stir beside us.
And then Rowdy huffs and leans against the back of Bo’s legs. Bo shifts his weight forward to catch his balance. It’s just one step, and then he stops. For a breath, he’s still. His eyes search mine like he’s asking a question he knows he shouldn’t.
Then he leans in.
His mouth finds mine, warm and soft, just like him.
The kiss is short and ever so real. And for one suspended second, neither of us moves away, our lips pressed together.
My insides are giggling, finally.
And just like that, the kiss is over.
I look up at him, my mouth and my heart protesting.
Bo steps back first.
His expression starts out warm and quick with a smirk, then turns stunned, and the warmth drains out of it as fast as it came. His jaw tightens. He looks at me like he’s trying to find the right thing to say and coming up empty.
His shoulders roll back, like he’s physically closing himself off. He takes another step away. He's going to apologize. I can see it forming. The careful retreat, the responsible distance. And I’ll be darned if he does it this time.
Before he can, I reach out and press my palms flat against his chest. My hands are shaking. I can feel it, even if he can’t see it. His heartbeat is racing under my fingers, matching mine.
“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” I say, and my voice comes out steady even though everything inside me is trembling. “That was real. Don’t you dare pretend it wasn’t.”
His eyes search mine, and I see something shift in his face; conflict and want all tangled together. But he doesn’t pull away. Not yet.
A little piece of my heart breaks as rejection hits me, and a light burning behind my eyes tells me I’m about to cry.
But Bo doesn’t step away. He steps forward, placing his hands over mine, and rests his forehead against mine.
“I’m not going to apologize for that. I could never apologize for kissing you, Falon.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.
“I can’t tell you how much I want this,” he says, kissing my forehead, then my nose, then my lips one more time. It is small and sweet, but I don’t care. It is the best thing ever.
“I want this too,” I say, seeing the control in his eyes.
“But we have to take this slow,” he says, his voice is rough and deep.
I nod and close my eyes. He rests his forehead against mine again. I don’t want this moment to end, but he sighs and reluctantly pulls away.
He reaches down, grabs the box, and heads outside, groaning in frustration. I smile and laugh.
I look up at the chandelier, and I stay there a long time. This is what I wanted, and now, I won’t let him go. Not for Tyler, not for anything in the world.