Chapter 4 Muddy Boots on Marble #2
Most of the urgent repairs upstairs were underway, but several older lines ran beneath the house. Until those were inspected and reinforced, the job wasn’t finished.
Normally, work like this helped clear his head.
Today it wasn’t helping much.
His wrench turned slowly against a fitting as his thoughts wandered somewhere they hadn’t visited in a long time.
Three years.
That was how long it had been since the divorce.
Three years since he’d stood in a lawyer’s office signing paperwork that officially ended a marriage he’d once believed would last forever.
Most days he didn’t think about it.
Or at least he pretended not to.
The truth was more complicated.
Some memories faded.
Others stayed.
Certain words seemed determined to survive no matter how much time passed.
Mason tightened another connection.
The familiar movement happened automatically.
His mind remained elsewhere.
The final fight replayed with uncomfortable clarity.
Not because it had been dramatic.
Actually, the opposite.
There had been no screaming.
No broken dishes.
No dramatic scenes from television.
Just exhaustion.
Two people sitting at opposite ends of a kitchen table.
A marriage already broken long before either of them admitted it.
His ex-wife, Sarah, had looked tired that night.
Not angry.
Not cruel.
Just tired.
The memory still bothered him.
Because she hadn’t been wrong.
That was the worst part.
She’d spent years asking for more.
More communication.
More openness.
More honesty.
Meanwhile, Mason had done what he always did.
Worked harder.
Fixed more things.
Solved practical problems.
Anything except the actual issue.
The conversation had ended with a sentence he still couldn’t forget.
“You fix everything except yourself.”
The words had landed harder than any argument.
Because they were true.
Painfully true.
Mason leaned back against a support beam and exhaled slowly.
Three years later, he still wasn’t entirely sure how to answer them.
The sound of footsteps overhead interrupted his thoughts.
Liam.
The younger man was probably moving between rooms upstairs.
The realization came instantly.
Without effort.
Without thought.
That alone should have been concerning.
A week ago, Mason wouldn’t have recognized Liam’s footsteps.
Now he could.
That wasn’t normal.
It definitely wasn’t professional.
He pushed himself upright and returned his attention to work.
The basement didn’t care about personal issues.
Pipes still needed replacing.
Repairs still needed completing.
Reality remained pleasantly straightforward.
At least until Liam appeared at the top of the stairs a few minutes later.
“Need anything?”
Mason looked up.
The younger man stood holding two mugs.
Coffee.
Again.
A smile threatened.
Mason suppressed it.
“Brought supplies?”
Liam lifted one mug slightly.
“The most important kind.”
Mason accepted the coffee when Liam reached the bottom step.
The warmth immediately seeped into his hands.
“Thanks.”
“You looked serious.”
The observation caught him off guard.
“Serious?”
Liam nodded.
“More than usual.”
Apparently he wasn’t as good at hiding things as he’d thought.
“Just thinking.”
Liam leaned lightly against a nearby support post.
The casual posture somehow felt natural now.
A week ago, their conversations had been awkward.
Careful.
Now they simply happened.
“What about?” Liam asked.
Mason considered brushing the question aside.
Normally he would.
Something about Liam made dishonesty difficult.
“My ex-wife.”
The answer surprised both of them.
Liam blinked.
“Oh.”
Immediately he looked concerned.
Not curious.
Concerned.
The distinction mattered.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
The offer was genuine.
No pressure.
No expectation.
Mason found himself appreciating that.
“I don’t usually.”
Liam nodded.
Neither spoke for a moment.
The silence felt comfortable.
Strangely comfortable.
Eventually Mason shrugged.
“Some days things just come back.”
Liam studied him quietly.
“Do you miss her?”
The question should have irritated him.
Instead, he found himself considering it honestly.
“No.”
The answer arrived easily.
Immediate.
Certain.
“I miss who we used to be.”
Liam’s expression softened.
That seemed to make sense to him.
The younger man wrapped both hands around his coffee mug.
“I think I understand that.”
The words carried unexpected weight.
Mason looked at him.
For a second, neither mentioned Liam’s ex.
Neither had to.
The understanding existed anyway.
Different relationships.
Different circumstances.
Similar scars.
The realization lingered.
Then Liam smiled faintly.
“You know, that’s probably the most depressing coffee conversation I’ve ever had.”
Mason laughed before he could stop himself.
The sound echoed slightly through the basement.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That laugh.”
Mason frowned.
“What about it?”
Liam shrugged.
“You don’t do it enough.”
The simple statement landed strangely hard.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, he carried those words with him for the rest of the afternoon.
Work continued.
Repairs moved forward.
The basement slowly transformed from a problem area into something stable again.
Several damaged sections were replaced.
Old fittings disappeared.
New materials took their place.
Steady progress.
The kind of thing Mason understood.
The kind of thing he could control.
Unfortunately, thoughts remained less cooperative.
Every time he looked up, Liam seemed nearby.
Studying.
Reading.
Helping when needed.
Asking questions.
Smiling.
The awareness had become constant.
And increasingly difficult to ignore.
Around three o’clock, they moved upstairs to inspect a section of wall near the hallway.
A ladder was required.
The ceiling above showed signs of moisture, and Mason needed a closer look.
Naturally, Liam volunteered to help.
“I can hold the flashlight.”
“You always volunteer.”
“You always need help.”
“Debatable.”
Liam laughed.
The sound followed them into the hallway.
The space was narrow.
Not as cramped as some sections of the house.
Still tight enough that they had to work around each other carefully.
Mason positioned the ladder.
A moment later he climbed several steps and began examining the ceiling.
Liam stood nearby holding the flashlight.
For a while, everything proceeded normally.
Then Liam shifted position.
The movement was small.
Barely noticeable.
Unfortunately, one foot landed on a section of floor cluttered with repair materials.
The slip happened instantly.
One second Liam was standing normally.
The next his balance disappeared.
Mason reacted without thinking.
Years of physical work had trained his reflexes.
He moved before conscious thought caught up.
One hand shot out.
Catching Liam firmly around the waist.
The other braced against the wall.
The fall never happened.
Neither did the flashlight hitting the floor.
Everything stopped.
For one suspended moment, neither moved.
Liam’s eyes widened.
Mason became acutely aware of several things all at once.
The warmth beneath his hand.
The proximity.
The fact that Liam was looking directly at him.
The hallway suddenly felt far smaller than before.
“You okay?”
The question came out rougher than intended.
Liam swallowed.
“Yeah.”
His voice sounded softer.
Breathless.
Neither stepped back.
Not immediately.
Mason’s hand remained at Liam’s waist.
Liam’s fingers rested lightly against Mason’s arm.
The contact wasn’t necessary anymore.
Yet it continued.
The silence stretched.
Not awkward.
Not exactly.
Just charged.
Awareness crackled between them.
Subtle.
Impossible to ignore.
Mason could smell Liam’s shampoo.
Could see the faint flush spreading across his cheeks.
Could feel his own pulse beating harder than it should have.
Finally, reality returned.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Mason released him.
Liam stepped back.
Neither looked entirely unaffected.
Neither mentioned it.
The hallway suddenly felt very quiet.
Very small.
Very dangerous.
And as Mason returned his attention to the repairs, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way Liam had felt in his arms.
That realization followed him long after the moment itself had ended.
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