Chapter 23
twenty-three
AIDAN
Ikeep saying it, but two weeks at home is never enough.
I’m always trying to shove a lifetime’s worth of living into fourteen days that slip through my fingers faster than I can catch them.
There’s always something with this damn house—an old creaky floor, a window that won’t shut, pipes that think it’s funny to leak when it rains.
I’m constantly knee-deep in repairs, fixing up what’s broken, trying to make this place solid.
Something for Isla that she can count on.
It almost seems useless, because every time I fix something, another thing falls apart.
It’s like the damn place is telling me I’m not around enough. Not doing enough.
And then there’s Lucy. I don’t know how the hell she managed it, but she slipped right into the middle of my world like she’d always been here.
That day with her last week turned into me finding excuses to text her, and she’s popped over here a few evenings after work.
Nothing serious, just hanging out for an hour or so, her laugh filling the house whenever Isla says something ridiculous, her smile patient when I’m trying too hard to be tough.
Sometimes, it’s like she’s the only thing that lets me breathe, like she’s the calm in the middle of all this chaos. She’s got this way of making me feel like maybe I’m doing something right for once.
Tomorrow, I’m back to work. Yet here I am, up in the attic trying to patch up another leak before the storm hits.
The thick, dusty air settles in my lungs, the musty smell of old wood sticking to my skin.
Sweat trickles along my temple as I fight this beam that clearly has a personal problem with me.
Frustration flares, but I crush it and stay at it.
Then Isla’s giggles drift up from the lower level, bright and sweet, spilling through the floorboards, tangled up with Lucy’s softer laugh. The sound slips right past my defenses, making the tension in my shoulders loosen.
Having Lucy here is strange sometimes, but nice, too. Too nice if I’m being honest with myself. I keep waiting for the moment when she realizes it’s too much and decides she’s had enough. But she hasn’t pulled away. She’s still here, laughing with Isla, wanting to be a part of this.
That’s what scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to start leaning on or depending on her, but there’s no ignoring how damn good it is to have her here.
Tomorrow, Isla will miss me, but she’s used to that. She’s learned how to deal with me being gone. But Lucy? Hell, I don’t know how this thing works with her. How long is she going to keep showing up and finding something in us worth sticking around for when I’m gone all the time?
The thought of Lucy slipping away nearly knocks the wind out of me. I shove the notion down and force my focus back to what I’m working on. That’s the only thing that’s ever made sense, anyway. Fix what’s in front of me, do my part, and hope to god it’ll be enough this time.
I’m so deep in my head that I almost don’t hear the creak of the attic stairs. Lucy pops up through the trapdoor.
“Thought you might need a break,” she says, lifting a thermos. “I made some tea.”
I set the hammer down and swipe the back of my hand across my brow, smearing sweat and sawdust together. I probably look rough, sweat soaked and grime streaked. “Thanks,” I mumble.
She makes her way across the attic, careful with each step, weaving around the stacks of old boxes and forgotten furniture. When she finally reaches me, she hands over the thermos, her fingers skimming mine just long enough to send a sharp jolt through me.
“You look like you’ve been through a war up here.”
I crack the lid open, the steam carrying the tea’s scent into the stale air. “Feels like it,” I mutter, taking a sip. The warmth settles low in my stomach, but it’s got nothing on the heat rising the second I realize she’s still looking at me.
Her gaze lingers at first, almost like she doesn’t mean to get caught. Yet she doesn’t look away. Her cheeks go a little pink, and she tucks a loose strand of hair away as her eyes drift over the sweat clinging to my skin, the dust smudged across my forearm.
She tilts her head, offering a small, uncertain smile. “You, um… You clean up nice, I bet. Not that you need to. I just mean…” Her words knot together, and she bites her lip. “It suits you. The whole…hardworking thing.”
I lift a brow, sip my tea, and let a smirk tug at my mouth. Watching her scramble for footing is kind of cute.
“I’ll have you know, I clean up just fine.”
She laughs softly, and the sound echoes in the cramped space, making everything feel a little less dusty, a little less worn. “I don’t doubt it for a second.”
I take another sip, watching her over the rim of the thermos. She looks out of place up here, too bright for all this darkness.
Lucy shifts her weight, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “So…you’ll be gone for three weeks this time?”
I nod, setting the thermos down on a nearby box. “Yeah. Longer rotation.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at me with those eyes that see too much. Then, “We’ll miss you.”
She reaches up, brushing a bit of dust from my shoulder, her touch lingering for a moment before she pulls back. I stare at the empty space where her hand was, and I hate how much I already miss it.
“Lucy,” I rasp, but she’s already stepping back, her hand falling casually to her side.
“You better finish up before the rain starts.”
Just like that, she’s gone, and I’m left standing here with my heart pounding and no idea what to do with the ache she’s left in her wake.
Lucy…Jesus. She’s been chipping away at my resolve, bit by bit.
I don’t know what this is between us because we haven’t put a name to it.
All I know is my hands itch to touch her when she’s close, her smile makes something in my chest crack open, and that three weeks away from her is going to feel like a lifetime.
I finish up just as the first drops of rain start to tap against the roof. By the time I head downstairs, everything I didn’t want to feel is shoved back into its box.
I round the corner into the living room, and whatever calm I thought I had scatters.
Lucy’s sitting on the floor, legs folded beneath her, surrounded by a sea of colored pencils and half-finished drawings.
Isla’s hunched over, her face scrunched in fierce concentration as she drags a crayon across the page.
Lucy leans in close and points at something on the paper, her voice full of gentle praise.
Fuck, if that doesn’t make me want her even more.
I stand there for a moment, frozen, just watching them.
Lucy’s hair falls in soft waves around her face as she bends over the drawing, and for a split second, all I want to do is reach out and run my fingers through it.
Then she looks up, catches my eye, and that smile—god, that smile—grows even wider.
“Daddy!” Isla squeals. “I made you something!”
“Did you now? What is it?”
She thrusts the paper toward me, beaming with pride. “It’s for when you’re on the big boat. So you don’t forget us.”
I move closer, squatting down beside them, desperate to hide the way those words tear me apart from the inside out.
I look at the picture of three stick figures Isla’s holding out.
One’s tall with spiky hair—me, I guess. One’s small with pigtails—Isla.
The third one is right in the middle, with shoulder-length, chestnut hair.
“That’s Lucy,” Isla says, pointing at the middle one. “I put her there so she can hold both our hands at the same time.”
My heart skips a beat, and I look over at Lucy. Her cheeks are flushed, a little embarrassed, but I catch the way her lips tug up into the smile she’s trying to hide.
“It’s beautiful, love.” I clear my throat, trying to pull myself together. “Why don’t you go wash up for dinner? I’ll help Lucy clean up here.”
She nods, and before I can even blink, she’s up and off, dashing toward the bathroom. The sound of her little feet fades, and it’s just me and Lucy in the room. I glance over at her, and she’s already picking up the mess.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say quietly, reaching for a stray pencil. “The drawing, I mean. I don’t want you to feel—”
“Don’t,” Lucy interrupts, her hand coming to rest on mine. “Please don’t apologize. It’s… It’s really sweet.”
I swallow hard, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. This situation is complicated.”
She shifts closer, her knee brushing against mine.
My pulse picks up again, and I have to fight the urge to close the space between us.
“I know that, Aidan. I’m not here because I think it’s going to be easy.
I’m here because I want to be.” She pauses, her eyes searching mine.
“And complicated doesn’t have to mean impossible. ”
I find myself leaning in, pulled toward her like I’m caught in a current. Her lips part slightly, eyes flitting to mine, then to my mouth. The air between us crackles with something dangerous.
“I can’t reach the soap!” Isla’s voice calls from the bathroom.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and when I open them, Lucy’s looking at me with a smirk on her lips. “Go,” she says, but there’s a longing in her gaze that holds me for a second longer. “I’ve got this.”
I make my way to the bathroom to find Isla struggling on her tiptoes, her arms stretched up high, but she’s not quite tall enough. I pass the bottle to her, making sure she gets a good lather, watching as her hands work under the water.
I zone out a bit as she scrubs away, humming a tune to herself.
Tomorrow, I’ll be back on the rig, and I’ll miss this.
I’ll miss her little hands, the sound of her laughter bouncing off the walls, the way she looks at me like I’m everything she needs.
I’m already bracing myself for the emptiness that comes with leaving.
I force my jaw to relax, keep my face neutral, but inside, it’s a damn storm. I can’t keep pretending it’s all fine when it’s absolutely fucking not.
“All done,” Isla announces, holding up her dripping hands for inspection.
I grab a towel to dry her hands, focusing on the simple task to distract myself. “Good job, sweetheart. Listen, about tomorrow—”
“I know, Daddy,” she cuts in, her eyes serious. “You have to go to work on the big boat.”
I pull her into a tight embrace, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. I squeeze her a little tighter. “I’ll miss you. I’ll be back before you know it.”
She hugs me back with all the strength she can muster before pulling away, looking up at me with those wide eyes. “Can I have a hug when you come back?”
I can’t help but laugh, brushing my lips over the top of her head. “Of course. You can have all the hugs you want.”
She grins with a big, goofy smile that makes everything feel a little less heavy.