7. Chapter 7
It was Thursday. And he owed her a call.
Heath was well aware of that fact as he stepped onto a beach patio, the air thick with the smell of salt, beer, and fried food. McP’s was already packed, a usual Thursday afternoon crowd buzzing with off-duty guys and regulars.
The team had knocked off early—for once. Three straight days on base, long shifts, no time to breathe, let alone see Maddie. He’d told her he’d be back Wednesday or Thursday.
As he dropped into the open seat across from Jesse and Zach, he pulled out his phone, thumbs moving over the screen.
Heath: Off early. Should I drop in soon?
He hesitated, then added: Next job’s the bedroom, right? Unless you changed your mind about letting me in there.
The guys were already deep into drinks. Jesse, beer in hand, was leaned back against the booth, watching the room with that quiet, calculating look. Isaac was mid-story, gesturing wildly, while Dominic laughed into his glass.
Zach?
Zach was drinking too much.
It wasn’t like Jesse’s old downward spiral—not yet. Zach was still showing up, still sharp, still himself. But Heath had seen this before. A guy one wrong turn away from drowning in a bottle.
Jesse had seen it, too.
And if Jesse Navarro—who’d dragged himself out of the worst of it—was watching Zach like that, it meant something.
Micah wasn’t here, which was probably for the best. The youngest of the team, that guy still partied like he was invincible, and he’d let Zach keep pushing it.
So when Zach reached for his next whiskey, Heath grabbed it first, sliding a water across the table instead.
Zach stilled.
His blue eyes flicked to Heath, sharp, slightly unfocused.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he said flatly.
Heath shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good, ’cause I sure as hell don’t want to be one.”
Zach didn’t move, fingers flexing against the table like he was debating something. But then he exhaled, grabbing the water, tipping it back without another word.
Heath didn’t push.
Didn’t call him out.
Just kept watching. Waiting.
Across the table, Jesse tapped his beer bottle against the edge of the table, eyes still on Zach. After a long moment, he shifted, leaned in, and murmured, “He’s fine right now. But if he keeps this up, it won’t stay that way.”
Heath already knew.
And Jesse did, too.
* * * * *
Heath drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled onto the main road, one hand on his phone as it rang.
Maddie picked up after the second ring.
“Hey,” she said, sounding more surprised than anything.
“Hey yourself.” He shifted gears, glancing at the clock. “You eat yet?”
She laughed, the sound warm through the speaker. “Does a glass of wine count?”
Heath shook his head, smirking. “Not unless it’s got protein and fiber in it.”
“I have good taste. That should count for something.”
“Yeah, well, I’m grabbing food. You’re getting some too.”
She made a sound of protest. “I don’t need—”
“Not up for debate, McAuley.”
She huffed, but he could hear the amusement in her voice. “Fine. What are we having?”
“Something with actual nutrients.” He scanned the late-night food spots still open, settling on a place that did grilled chicken, quinoa, roasted veggies—the kind of healthy Californian crap he usually avoided but figured Maddie would approve of.
“Should I be honored?” she teased. “You bringing me a meal? Feels very… domestic.”
Heath snorted. “Don’t get used to it.”
She laughed again, and something about the sound hit him low and warm.
“So, we’re doing the master bedroom tonight?” he asked, keeping his tone easy.
Silence for a beat. Then—
“Yeah,” she said, quieter now. “That’s the plan.”
Good. She hadn’t changed her mind.
Less than an hour later, Heath pulled into Maddie’s driveway in La Jolla just as the last bit of daylight bled out of the sky, the blue-gray shadows of evening stretching long over the front yard.
He killed the engine, exhaling as he leaned forward to rest his forearms on the steering wheel for a second.
He wasn’t nervous. Not exactly. But there was… something.
Something about seeing her again after Sunday.
After that.
They hadn’t talked about it. Not really. He’d been buried in work for three days, and Maddie—well, Maddie had been avoiding him. Or maybe she’d just been busy. But he hadn’t missed how she hadn’t lingered around him after Natalie showed up that morning, how she’d carefully kept some distance.
And now? Now they were supposed to be casually working on her bedroom like he hadn’t had her on that kitchen counter.
Yeah. This was gonna be interesting.
He grabbed the food and made his way up the steps, knocking once before letting himself in. She’d told him to, but it still felt strange, stepping into someone’s home like this. Not as a guest, not as a lover, but something in between.
The house smelled like fresh paint and sawdust, like old wood and a faint trace of her perfume. He found Maddie in the master bedroom, standing near the window, arms crossed, biting her lip as she studied the space like it had personally offended her.
“Thinking about backing out?” he asked, holding up the food bag. “Or just contemplating whether or not I’ll survive another night of your assistance?”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. She hadn’t moved to kiss him.
Not that he’d expected her to.
There was an uncertainty between them now, an awkward limbo of strangers who’d had sex but didn’t quite know what to do with that information.
But she smiled—small, almost shy—and that did something to him.
“I was thinking about how much I hate this room,” she admitted, uncrossing her arms. “And also, that food smells good.”
He handed her the takeout. “I like how you prioritize.”
The food was good. Too good. Maddie eyed her bowl like it had personally offended her.
Heath smirked, spearing a piece of avocado with his fork. “What, never had a quinoa bowl before?”
She scoffed, picking at the perfectly layered California health-bowl in front of her. “I’m used to hospital cafeteria food. This is suspiciously fresh.”
“That’s what happens when you let someone else handle your meals instead of running on caffeine and stubbornness.”
She huffed but took a bite, chewing slowly. Heath watched her, content to eat in silence for a minute. She looked better—or at least, less like she was running on sheer fumes. But still tired. Still carrying the weight of something she wouldn’t say out loud.
He let the quiet settle between them, then asked, “So how’d you end up with this place?”
She took another bite, swallowing before she answered. “My parents were supposed to move into a retirement community last year. Somewhere up the coast, closer to my brother.”
“But?”
She exhaled, shifting her fork in her fingers. “Mom got sick. Out of nowhere. Short-term critical illness. A few weeks in and out of the hospital. Then… she was gone.”
Heath set his fork down. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
Maddie nodded, staring at her bowl, pushing some spinach around. “Dad still moved up north. My brother and his wife keep an eye on him. But the house…” She gestured vaguely. “It was empty.”
“And it landed on you to sell it?”
“Someone had to. And, I mean, it makes sense. My mom was a surgeon too, at another hospital in the city. My dad worked the trains as an engineer. They bought this place back in the ‘80s. Raised us here. It wasn’t just some property to offload—it was our house.”
Heath let that sit for a beat. He could hear it in her voice—how much history lived inside these walls.
“How long you been going through their stuff?” he asked.
“Seven months.” She breathed out a short laugh. “Slowly.”
“That why you’re in such a rush to sell?”
Her fingers curled against the edge of the table. “It’s hard, going through everything. A lot of it was childhood stuff. Old memories. And now I just want it gone. Dad could use the money to support him and none of us want the house to sit vacant for another year.”
He understood that. Too well.
But before he could say anything, she exhaled sharply and kept going.
“About six months ago, I realized my marriage was over. I started looking at this place differently—like a landing spot. Somewhere to figure out my next steps.”
His jaw ticked. “So you moved in a month ago.”
“Had to do it while David was at work.” She stabbed a piece of tomato with a little too much force. “He was… pissed.”
Heath set his fork down, watching her carefully now.
There it was.
The thing she wasn’t saying.
“You were afraid,” he said, quiet but certain.
She froze. Just for a second.
Then—she forced a smirk. “I was cautious.”
He didn’t buy that bullshit for a second.
Didn’t push, either.
Not yet.
Instead, he picked up his fork, nodding toward her barely touched bowl. “Eat your damn food, McAuley.”
She rolled her eyes but took another bite.
Heath sat there, chewing his own food, filing away every piece of information she’d just given him, and when they were done, they cleaned up quickly and headed back upstairs.
Back to the master bedroom, standing in the center of the space, taking in the work ahead of them.
“Alright,” Heath said, clapping his hands together. “What’s the goal here?”
She sighed, scanning the room. “I want to modernize it. Make it more… sellable. The wallpaper has to go, obviously. The trim is outdated. And the closet—” She gestured toward the old wooden doors. “I was thinking of replacing those with something less hideous.”
Heath nodded. “Alright. That means we’re stripping wallpaper tonight. Not the most glamorous job, but lucky for you, I’ve done this many times before.”
Maddie froze for half a second. Then she huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you have.”
The tension eased slightly after that, both of them falling into the rhythm of work.
He showed her how to score the wallpaper, how to steam it to loosen the glue, how to scrape it off without gouging the drywall underneath.
She listened, taking in the information with the same sharp focus she’d had that first night he’d met her.