6. Flint
six
Flint
I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon, and the sound of Ally's laughter from the kitchen. For a moment, I let myself imagine this is normal—waking up in Maple's house, being part of her morning routine, belonging somewhere that matters.
Then reality reasserts itself. I'm sleeping on her couch because of a plumbing emergency, not because I have any right to be here permanently.
"Morning," Maple says when I appear in the doorway. She's managed to rig up a temporary cooking station on the dining room table, electric skillet and coffee maker plugged into the living room outlets. Ally sits beside her, eating cereal and chattering about a school project.
"Hi Mr. Flint!" Ally waves enthusiastically. "Mommy made you breakfast too!"
Indeed she has. A plate of bacon and eggs waits beside the coffee pot, still warm. The simple thoughtfulness of it hits me harder than it should.
“Figured a big guy like you needed something more than Frosted Flakes,” she says sheepishly.
"Thank you," I say, accepting the coffee she hands me. Our fingers brush, and the memory of last night's kiss flares between us.
"How did you sleep?" she asks, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.
"Fine." A lie. Her couch is too short for my frame, and I spent most of the night listening for sounds of further disasters while trying not to think about her sleeping just down the hall.
"River McKinnon is coming by at nine," I continue. "Plumber friend of mine. He'll give you a fair price on the pipe replacement."
"River?" Ally perks up. "Funny name."
"His parents had a sense of humor," I explain. "He's good people, though. Won't charge you for work you don't need."
Maple nods, relief evident. "What about the ceiling?"
"I can handle that. Drywall, paint, new light fixture. Week's work, maybe less."
"I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm offering."
Our eyes meet across the makeshift kitchen, understanding passing between us. This isn't just about repairs anymore. This is about building something together, creating a foundation that goes deeper than stone.
River arrives exactly at nine, a stocky man with calloused hands and an easy smile. He surveys the damage with professional detachment, making notes and measurements.
"Galvanized pipes throughout?" he asks.
I nod. "Original to the house.”
"Miracle they lasted this long." He turns to Maple. "Honest recommendation? Replace all of it. Copper or PEX. You're looking at failure in other sections within the next few years anyway."
Maple's face falls at the implied cost. "Just the immediate problem for now," she says quietly.
"Actually," I interrupt, "what would full replacement run?"
River names a figure that's reasonable for the work involved. Maple shakes her head immediately.
"I can't afford that."
"What if we did it in stages?" I suggest. "Main lines first, branches later. Spread the cost over time."
"Flint, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but—"
"What if I told you I needed the practice?"
Both Maple and River stare at me. River's eyebrows climb toward his hairline.
"Practice?" Maple asks.
"Expanding my services. Stone work, basic plumbing, electrical. One-stop renovation contractor." The lie comes easily, supported by just enough truth to be believable. "River supervises, I do the labor. You get wholesale pricing on materials and reduced labor costs."
"That's..." Maple looks between us, clearly seeing through my story but touched by the gesture. "That's very generous."
"Good business," I correct. "You tell your friends about the quality work, I get more customers."
River catches on quickly. "Makes sense. Flint's got the hands for it. And I could use someone reliable for larger jobs."
It's settled within an hour. River will handle the complex connections and code requirements, I'll do the grunt work of running new lines. Maple gets her plumbing fixed at a price she can afford, and I get to spend more time in her house, being useful, being needed.
Being part of something that matters.
After River leaves and I start planning the ceiling repair, my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
Stay away from my family or you'll regret it.
Derek. Somehow he got my number, probably from asking around town. The threat doesn't worry me—men like Derek are all bluster and lawyers—but the fact that he's escalating does.
"Everything okay?" Maple asks, noticing my expression.
I delete the text without showing her. "Fine. Just a client with questions."
Another lie, but one designed to protect rather than deceive. Derek is my problem to handle, not hers.
"I should take Ally to school," she says, checking the time. "Will you be okay here alone?"
"I'll try not to break anything else."
She laughs, the sound bright enough to chase away thoughts of Derek and his threats. "I trust you."
Trust. When was the last time someone trusted me with something that mattered? When was the last time I wanted to be worthy of that trust?
"Maple," I call as she gathers Ally's backpack.
"Yeah?"
"Last night... I meant what I said. All of it."
A smile spreads across her face, soft and happy and full of possibility. "I know. Me too."
After they leave, I start tearing out the damaged ceiling, channeling my energy into productive work. Each swing of the hammer, each section of debris cleared away, feels like progress toward something bigger than repairs.
I'm building a life here. Building a future with a woman who sees my worth and a child who looks at me like I hung the moon. Building something Derek's money and threats can't touch.
By the time Maple returns from the school run, I've cleared most of the debris and started framing for the new drywall. She brings fresh coffee and sandwiches, settling into a chair to watch me work.
"Can I ask you something?" she says after a while.
"Shoot."
"Why did you really offer to do this work so cheaply? And don't say practice or business expansion."
I set down my hammer and face her fully. She deserves honesty, especially after last night.
"Because watching you worry about money hurts," I say simply. "Because Ally's drawings are on my refrigerator and her laugh makes my day better. Because you work harder than anyone I know and deserve to have someone make things easier for you instead of harder."
I take a breath, pushing past the vulnerability of saying too much.
"And because I'm falling for you, Maple. Hard and fast and in ways that probably don't make sense. I want to take care of you and Ally. I want to be the man you can count on."
She's quiet for a long moment, her coffee growing cold in her hands. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft.
"Derek used to say he wanted to take care of me too. But what he really wanted was to control me. To make me smaller so he could feel bigger."
"I'm not Derek."
"I know." She sets down her coffee and moves closer, until she's standing right in front of me.
"That's what scares me. Derek was easy to leave because he never really saw me.
But you... you see everything. The good and the messy and the complicated.
And if I let myself fall for you and then lose you. .."
I reach up to cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. "You won't lose me. I'm not going anywhere."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've spent thirty-nine years waiting for you without knowing it. Because this house feels more like home with you in it than anywhere I've ever lived. Because when I picture my future, you and Ally are in every part of it."
Her eyes fill with tears, but she's smiling. "That's either the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, or the most terrifying."
"Can't it be both?"
She laughs, rising on her toes to kiss me. This time there's no hesitation, no testing the waters. This is a woman making a choice, claiming what she wants.
When we break apart, she rests her head against my chest, and I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and the promise of everything we could build together.
"So where does this leave us?" she asks, her voice muffled against my shirt.
"Wherever you want it to."
She pulls back to look at me. "I want to try. Scared as I am, I want to see what this could be."
"Even with Derek making threats?"
Her expression hardens. "Especially with Derek making threats. I won't let him dictate my life anymore."
Pride swells in my chest. This is the woman I fell for—strong, determined, unbreakable when it matters.
"In that case," I say, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "how do you feel about me taking you to dinner Saturday night? Somewhere nice. Somewhere the whole town will see us together."
"Are you asking me on a date, Flint Miller?"
"I'm asking you to be my girlfriend, Maple Webster. Publicly, officially, no more pretending this is just about the house."
"Yes. To all of it."