Chapter 6
SAWYER
The sound of brad nails punching into the subfloor echoes off the vaulted ceiling. I don’t waste time looking up at Will’s progress as I grab another panel of plywood, taking care to lay it perfectly in place before picking up my nailgun and methodically driving nails around the perimeter.
I’m gonna beat him this ti—
“Done!” Will calls out from his side of the room.
“Shit!” I say, firing the last two nails and sitting back on my boots. I wipe my brow with my sleeve. “How are you so much better at this than I am? I’m bigger—”
He holds his thumb and index finger half an inch apart. “Only a little.”
“Stronger—”
“Debatable.”
“The better athlete—”
“Possibly.” My brother smirks. “Brawn isn’t everything, little brother. I’m smarter—”
I fold my arms over my chest. “False.”
“The wiser strategist—”
“Definitely inaccurate.” A huge part of being a SEAL was strategy, and I was damn good at it.
“And better looking—”
“Slander!”
He ignores me. “It follows that I’d be better at this manly stuff than you.” He takes a look around. “Subfloor for the whole house is done now. Must feel good.”
I follow his gaze.
“Would’ve taken me at least twice as long alone. Thanks, man.”
I’m fortunate to have a brother like Will who likes me enough to help with manual labor. This cabin might be the first thing I’m really proud of. It’s something I truly wanted, not to prove a point to anyone, but because I wanted it for myself.
Since snatching it up from old Mr. Collins last summer, I’ve devoted every spare moment to fixing it up. Compared to the open concept living space we finished a few weeks ago, this back area with the bedrooms is cake.
And spending this time with my older brother is a nice byproduct.
We might always have the kind of relationship that thrives more on companionable silence than gushy feelings, but it’s more than I expected when we were younger and nearly a decade’s difference in age made a relationship with him seem impossible.
Will claps me on the shoulder. “That’s what brothers are for. Even if it does get me on the old man’s bad side,” he adds.
Our dad tolerated it when I rented an apartment after the Navy, but he wasn’t too happy when I bought the place way out here.
Strongs don’t live east of town, he said.
He should have known by then I don’t care about his rules.
“What’s next for tomorrow?” Will asks. “Wanna get a head start on the underlayment, or work on plumbing?”
For no discernible reason, Brie’s angry face in the parking lot this afternoon claws its way to the forefront of my mind for the thousandth time.
She’d clearly been running on no sleep. Judging by the stuff in her car, I’d bet good money she drove all night to come back home.
But why?
“Earth to Sawyer.” By Will’s tone, it’s not the first time he’s said it.
“Yeah?”
“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
I shove my hands in my pockets and clear my throat. “Night off tomorrow.”
Will’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“Rich is in town. Might see if he and Ethan wanna get some tacos.”
Will’s eyes flash in understanding, and he looks too sanctimonious for my taste. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Brie Casey being back in town would it?”
I don’t take the bait. “I keep giving the guys the brushoff. It’s no way to be a friend.”
My brother folds his arms, waiting me out.
I keep my face neutral but ask, “How do you even know she’s back?”
Will levels me with a bored expression. “You have to ask that when Luce works at your front office, and her sister works at mine?”
“Good point.” Despite being her boss, hearing Senora Martinez referred to by her first name still unsettles me.
“So?” he prompts.
“What?” I busy myself with putting away my tools.
“The girl you tormented is back” —I suppress a sneer at the accurate characterization— “and you’re suddenly interested in going out to a bar for the first time in years.” He leans against a wall stud. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting a good example, Principal Strong?”
“Alright, Mr. Mayor,” I drawl. “Rich doesn’t come back to Blue Ridge all that often these days, and it’s been too long.” This is actually true. Besides my buddy Jake, with whom I maintain a mostly text-based friendship, Rich is probably my best friend. “You wanna come out tomorrow or not?”
He pushes off the wall and walks across the room. “Nah, I’m too old for that shit. You shouldn’t either. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave that girl alone.” He opens the exterior door and stops to face me.
I brace myself for more.
“But if you do go, at least look like the principal you are and shave. You look like a bear.”