Chapter 4 Octavius #3
“You know,” she muttered, “you’re very bossy.”
“You are correct.”
“And slightly insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I heard her let out a small laugh, the sound warmer than it should have been given the circumstances, and instead of arguing with me, she silently watched.
In fact, she moved closer, hovering just within reach as I worked, and if she was going to learn, she might as well observe and get some more hands-on experience.
“Hold that,” I said without looking back, shifting my grip on the board.
She stepped in immediately, pressing her hand against it to keep it steady. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
“I feel like I’m being trained,” she said, like she knew she wasn’t going to get away with just watching from the sidelines, because after tonight she was on her own again. So maybe if she could at least learn how to properly hammer a nail, she might stand a chance in this shack.
“Just focus,” I said as I rolled my eyes.
She made another quiet sound, something between a laugh and a complaint, but she didn’t argue further. Instead, she adjusted her grip as I secured the rest of the board in place, sealing the window far more effectively than the cardboard ever had.
Time slipped by as one repair bled into the next.
A loose hinge was tightened, a warped board reinforced, one window patched properly and then another.
My tentacles worked in sync with my hands, and I had to admit, she was actually helpful, picking things up faster than I’d expected.
Before long, she was anticipating what I needed, grabbing tools before I even had to ask.
“Hand me a few more screws,” I said, holding out my hand. “And—”
Before I could finish, both screws and nails were already placed into my palm.
“No, not these ones,” I said. “I need the other ones.”
“What other ones?” she huffed.
“The ones I’m looking at.”
“You’re looking at all of them,” she shot back. “And would it kill you to say please?”
I stilled, glancing back at her, but the only thing I was met with was a growing smile, like she knew exactly what she was doing.
I plastered on a fake smile as I spoke with faux sweetness in my voice, because I knew she was testing my patience. “The shorter ones,” I clarified. “Pretty please with sugar on top.”
“See?” she said lightly. “That wasn’t so hard.”
I drew out a long breath, trying to let go of my frustration, because up until that moment, she had actually been helpful, so perhaps she was just bored now and needed some excuse to nettle me. Still, there was more to do, so I turned back, focusing my energy on my work.
Hours passed before I finally stepped back to assess what we had managed to do. The cottage was still in poor condition, but it was better than before.
I glanced at my new assistant as she stood there with a hammer in one hand and a handful of nails in the other, looking far more satisfied than the situation warranted. Things were better, yes, but only just. Another storm like this could undo everything we had managed to patch together tonight.
“You’re still staying at the inn until this project is complete.”
Her brow lifted slightly. “That sounds more like a command than a suggestion.”
“Because it is.” I exhaled, dragging a hand through my damp hair.
“I’m not a professional, and what we just did was a temporary solution until someone actually qualified gets in here.
” I paused, the word catching slightly in my throat before I forced it out.
“My suggestion is that you stay at the inn.”
She crossed her arms, offering me a smug, entirely unhelpful smile. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll be just fine.”
It became clear, with increasing certainty that she wasn’t going to take my advice. Not tonight, not tomorrow, and possibly never. There was no arguing with that kind of resolve, not without turning it into something else entirely. And quite frankly, I was too tired for that.
The work had taken more out of me than I cared to admit, not just physically, but in the constant effort of managing the emotional residue still lingering beneath my skin from what I had pulled from her earlier.
Not to mention the emotions I could still feel hanging in the air around her, like this whole sweet but annoying act was a carefully crafted cover for how she actually felt.
But I had to turn that switch off, no matter how much I wanted to pry.
I rolled my shoulders once, feeling the dull weight settle there, and glanced toward the windows.
The storm had finally begun to ease. The rain still fell, but softer now, less aggressive, and the wind had lost much of its earlier force. It would pass within a few hours, leaving behind whatever damage it had managed to inflict.
“If you’re not going to stay at the inn,” I said, already gathering the tools I had used, “and you’re not going to contact the people I recommended, then it looks like I’ll be returning tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m aware,” I replied. “And yet, I find myself obligated to now.”
Obligated. Yeah, that was the perfect word for this situation, because the moment I stepped through that door, that was exactly what she had become.
My obligation. And for reasons I didn’t care to examine too closely, that realization didn’t exactly frustrate me the way I expected it to.
Kara herself, however, remained thoroughly infuriating, but I found, annoyingly, that I liked it.
And as much as I wanted to convince myself I was coming back to uncover whatever truths she was definitely hiding, to get a closer investigation, I knew that wasn’t the reason at all.
I was fucked.
“Look, what we’ve done tonight will get you through the storm,” I said, setting the hammer down with a quiet finality. “After that we’ll reassess your very questionable decisions.”
She let out an annoyed breath before finally agreeing, “Fine, whatever.”
I glanced around the cottage one last time before looking back at her. “That’s everything I can do tonight.” I paused briefly, then nodded toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded, and I took the small victory, grateful she hadn’t argued further. I turned toward the door, intent on leaving before I reconsidered the decision entirely, and stepped outside just as a strong gust of wind slammed it from my grasp, sending it crashing shut right in my face.
I stilled, and for a brief moment, I was fairly certain I had just lost a tentacle in the slam because, of course, on our long list of problems, we had forgotten to add fixing the door.
“Well,” she said, amusement threading through her voice, “it looks like the cottage doesn’t want you to leave.”
Of course it didn’t.
I turned back slowly, irritation settling into place, directed at the situation, the timing, and the growing sense that I had walked directly into something I should’ve avoided.
“It’s an un-sentient structure,” I deadpanned. “It doesn’t have preferences.”
“Feels like it sort of does.”