32. Broken Hearts #3
“One to fifty by the end of the week. The full footprint—as best we can do. The elevations, the interior partitions. I’ll do the drafting, and I know the land by heart.”
“Papa’s fishing hole.” Nana Mae’s smile is watery.
“Yeah,” I say. “As long as I don’t lose it because of how Tommy tied it to the loan. It feels…right.”
“That’s because it is,” she says, then excuses herself to the restroom.
“I can’t make any promises about the loan and the land, Cole.” Hudson has shed his anger. He wants happiness for our family as much as I do. “But I’ll do everything I can to put an end to this. All of it.”
I know he means it.
“We have to talk about that loan, Cole.” Nolan stands before me with his hands on his hips.
“We will. But first, please help me so I don’t lose your sister for good this time,” I plead.
“I’m extremely good at doll furniture,” Hudson says, rolling his shoulders back. “River made sure of it.” His sister’s his only weak spot.
“I have a contact in Hilton Head who has a 3D printer and owes me 6,000 favors,” Fen says. “I also get to choose the paint colors, that’s not negotiable.”
“Put us to work, Cole.” Nolan grins. “The apology has to come from you, but we can help with the gesture.”
He has no idea how much his words mean to me. None of them do. It’s like a helping hand after you’ve spent years digging out of a bottomless hole.
“Boys,” Nana Mae says, reentering the room with a handful of tissues. “The garage. Now. I’ll bring in the food, and I’ll call in the reinforcements.”
Lord only knows what that will entail, but if it gets Junie back, I’m all for it.
“Where the hell did you find those?” I ask Hudson.
He’s sitting at a long folding table in my garage with a magnifier and a set of tweezers.
“Nana Mae. It’s amazing what she can get done when she sets her mind to it.”
I cross the garage to peer over his shoulder. It’s taken him two days to build some bookcases, a table that wobbles, and two chairs from scrap materials he’s collected from some of my other projects. They’re…functional.
“I think you missed your calling.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, then sucks on his thumb while dropping the hot glue gun to the table. “Pass. I’m only doing this for you.” He looks toward the ceiling. “And her. This is a hell of a lot easier when it comes out of a box, has instructions, and snaps into place.”
“Thank you.” I make a guttural sound somewhere between a laugh and something I mean with my whole heart.
Hudson nods. “Fen should be back soon with the 3D printer. Once it’s set up and calibrated, it’ll be a hell of a lot easier than this bullshit.”
Nolan stands in the opposite corner, staring at my original blueprints that I’ve kept hidden for years. It was surprisingly easier to share them than I thought it would be.
“You really know her,” Nolan says without lifting his gaze. “I don’t see what you’d need to change here.”
I stare down at the old blueprints. “These were a monument to someone I thought I could never have. These,” I hold up the start of my improved design, “are what happen when our lives converge.” I spread them out over the top of the sawhorses, and Nolan lets out a low whistle that even draws Hudson closer.
“This,” Hudson tilts his head so he’s almost upside down. He has no idea what he’s looking at.
I take pity on him and walk him through the first stages of the new design.
“This used to be her reading nook. I moved that upstairs. It’s smaller, but cozier. Now this space is an office for us to share. The light will filter in from the north and the south depending on the time of day.”
Hudson’s eyes glaze over as I continue, but I don’t stop until I’ve explained every change I plan to make and why—each one hinges on who Junie is now—and who she can be in the future.
Fenway walks in and gets to work with Hudson creating furniture for every room while I attack the new design with my charcoal and vellum.
At 1 a.m., Nana Mae kicks us all out.
“You’re going to be no use to her if you’re half out of your mind delirious. Get some sleep. We’ll get back at it first thing.”
Fenway walks her home while I carefully protect my new design.
Hudson and Nolan grab the leftover food and carry it back to the house.
But I linger a little longer in the driveway.
Junie’s apartment is mostly dark. It feels ominous. Especially since the only communications we get are two-word check-ins over text. I’m fine. I’m good. Don’t worry.
Nolan said she still needs time, so I’m doing my best.
As I round the corner to enter the back door, a small speck of light catches my eye, and I instantly look up at her bedroom window. There’s a low, warm, steady glow I hadn’t noticed before.
The kind that only comes from a nightlight.
The kind a kid keeps on so the darkness doesn’t win. This isn’t a signal we’ve used. It’s not a code we’ve agreed on. It’s just a small light that has decided to shine tonight when it never has before.
I try not to interpret what it could mean.
I’m not owed anything.
But I can’t stop the hope that brightens the darkness in my chest.
It has to mean…something.
And when she’s ready, she’ll see that I’m trying.
For her.
For me.
For us.