8. Chapter EightRORY
Chapter Eight
RORY
The floorboards groaned under my boots as I stepped into the kitchen. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, making the kitchen seem too damned cheerful. I leaned against the doorframe, watching Mina hum softly as she cracked eggs into a skillet. The clatter of dishes and the sizzling of bacon on the stove mingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Mina looked up, her bright smile catching me off guard. “Morning,” she sang, as if we’d shared a hundred mornings before. The ease in her voice made something twist in my chest.
“Morning.” I strode towards the counter.
“Here,” Mina said, sliding a plate across the wood. The bacon sizzled, still hot from the pan. “You’ll need the energy if you’re going to teach me how to fix this place up.”
Her tone was light, teasing, but I caught the flicker of hope in her eyes. It made me want to retreat, to guard the fragile distance between us. Instead, I muttered, “Is that right?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, pouring coffee into a mug. Our fingers brushed as she handed it to me, and I jerked back, nearly spilling the hot liquid.
“Careful,” she murmured, her eyes searching my face. I looked away, staring down at the steam rising from the mug.
“So,” Mina finally said, leaning against the counter. “Where should we start? The broken window? The roof? Or maybe...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced towards the barn, visible through the kitchen window.
“The roof,” I said gruffly. “We’ll start with the roof shingles. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Mina hurried around the counter and over to a small storage chest beside the pantry cabinet. The sound of her rummaging through a toolbox snapped me back to the present. She returned with a hammer, holding it up with a smile. “Ready when you are, teacher.”
I stared at her, at the way the sunlight caught in her hair, at the warmth in her eyes that seemed to reach for something buried deep inside me. And for a moment, I let myself wonder what it might be like to let her in.
“You seem lost in thought,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “What’s on your mind?”
“Just wondering how much blasted cheerier you can get.”
“Well, someone’s got to balance out all that grumpiness of yours, right?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but her proximity, the way her honey-scented hair danced around her face as she laughed, and the way my chest tightened in her presence all conspired against me. Instead, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move away.
Her lips parted slightly, and I stopped a hair’s breadth from her, close enough to see the tiny flecks of color in her eyes. Every instinct screamed at me to pull back, to run, but something stronger held me in place.
Something dangerous.
With a slow, deliberate movement, I reached toward her and took the hammer from her hand. Her fingers lingered on the handle for a moment, as if letting go meant releasing whatever this was between us.
“The roof won’t fix itself.” I stepped back and turned towards the door, not daring to look at her. If I saw hurt in her eyes, or worse, relief , I didn’t know what it would do to me.
The crisp November air bit my face as we stepped outside. Mina stood beside me, her arms crossed against the chill, cheeks flushed pink.
“Well?” she said, tilting her head back to look at the damaged roof. “How do we start?”
I pulled on a pair of worn gloves; the leather cracked from years of use. Mina had said they came from some clothing donation, but they fit well enough. “Up there,” I said, nodding toward the ladder leaning against the house. “You wanted to learn, didn’t you?”
“Does it have to be the roof this soon? I thought maybe we’d start with something on the ground?”
“Afraid of heights suddenly?”
“No,” she said quickly, squaring her shoulders. “Just... cautious.”
“Good. Caution will keep you alive up there.” Part of me wanted to tell her to forget it, to go back inside, where it was safe and warm. But another part, a part I’d thought long buried, recognized the need to do what had to be done. “I’ll go up first,” I said, gripping the ladder rungs. “Watch where I put my hands and feet. And for your sake, don’t look down.”
I climbed steadily. When I reached the top, I turned to see Mina following, her movements slow but deliberate. I instinctively reached for her hand as she climbed up.
She hesitated for a moment, then grasped it. I pulled her up onto the roof, acutely aware of how close she was again, how her breath came in short, nervous puffs.
“Not so bad, right?” I said, my voice gruffer than I intended.
Mina laughed shakily. “Ask me again when we’re back on solid ground.”
We carefully made our way across the sloped surface. I pointed out the damaged shingles, explaining how water could seep in and rot the wood beneath.
“So, how do we fix it?” She kneeled to examine a warped section.
I crouched beside her. “We’ll start by removing the damaged shingles,” I said, reaching for the pry bar in my tool belt. “Then we’ll—”
A sudden gust of wind whipped across the roof, catching us both off guard. Mina lost her balance, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Without thinking, I lunged forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against me.
For a moment, we stayed like that. I could feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint scent of her shampoo in her hair. Mina turned her head, her gaze meeting mine.
“That was close,” she murmured, her breath warm against my cheek. I held her a little longer, torn between my wish to shield her and the need to protect myself. Reluctantly, I let go. Clearing my throat, I reached for the hammer, needing a distraction. “Here,” I said gruffly, offering it to her. “Your turn to give it a shot.”
“Okay,” Mina said. “Where do I hammer it in?”
I positioned myself behind her, close enough to guide but far enough to maintain some semblance of distance. “First, hold it like this,” I said, adjusting her grip. Her scent washed over me again, making it hard to focus. “Now, you’ve got to use your whole body, not just your arms.”
She attempted to drive the nail, but the hammer slipped, nearly grazing her thumb. “Careful there.” I reached around her to steady her hand.
“Sorry. I’m not good at this.”
“All you need is practice. Here, let me show you.” I placed my hand over hers on the hammer, guiding her through the motion. “Firm grip on the lower half for more control,” I said, acutely aware of how our bodies moved together. “And always keep your eyes on the nail head.”
Mina nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Okay.”
“Since this shingle is torn slightly, it doesn’t need to be replaced,” I said, taking a few steps back. “Now, take a swing.”
She held the nail properly, then swung the hammer. This time, it struck, driving the nail cleanly into the shingle. Mina let out a laugh, her face lighting up my world.
Warmth spread through my chest, disarming me with its suddenness. Her joy was infectious, and I almost smiled. “Not bad.”
Mina beamed up at me. “See, I told you I’d learn quickly with you as my teacher.”
Something about the way she looked at me, so open and trusting, made my chest tighten. Someone like me didn’t deserve someone as good as her. “One more,” I said, nodding towards another loose shingle. “Let’s see if you can do it twice.”
With a single, fluid motion, she drove the second nail in perfectly. We continued repairing the roof, adding roofing cement or sealant using a putty knife. The hours passed, and I still couldn’t shake the feel of her curves fitting perfectly against my body, or the nagging feeling that I was getting in way over my head.
Not long after, the sun sank lower. Mina stood, stretched, and let the icy wind toy with her hair as she gazed at the small town below us. “It’s beautiful from up here. You can see everything.”
I followed her gaze. The town was a patchwork of fall colors, the trees in the park stripped nearly bare, their leaves forming amber and crimson carpets on the ground. “Yeah, it is.” In all the years I’d been here, I don’t know that I ever took in this view. It had always been just another day to get done, another week to complete. But standing here with Mina, it felt different. Like maybe there was something more to see, more to feel.
She turned toward me, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Miss what?”
“Life before you left for the mountains.”
I shrugged, not wanting to dig too deep into the past. “Surviving is easier when you’re alone.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No use longing for what’s gone, sweetheart.”
Mina studied me for a moment. “I think I would miss the little things,” she said softly. “Like hot chocolate on a snowy day or hearing a new song on the radio.”
Her words tugged at something deep within me, memories I’d tried hard to bury. A late-night run to the bar with my brothers to watch the game, the first warm day of spring spent in the old man’s backyard tossing back a few beer cans. The sound of my mother’s laugh echoing through the house on Christmas morning.
I pushed those thoughts away. “You get used to it. The quiet has its own comforts.”
Mina didn’t respond immediately, her eyes drifting back to the town below. “I don’t think I could ever get used to being alone,” she said finally. “People need each other.”
She was only trying to understand me, to connect. But that was the problem. I was trying my damnedest to not hurt her.
“Ready for a fresh round? There are a few hours left in the day.”
“Absolutely,” Mina said. “What’s next on the list?”
I pointed towards a messy woodpile by the old shed. “Firewood. Winter’s coming, and you’ll need a decent stock.”
She looked down at the woodpile, then smiled back up at me. “Guess we’re going down then.”
With a careful descent down the ladder, we made our way towards the chopping block. I hefted the axe, its weight comforting in my grip. The rhythmic thud of metal splitting wood filled the air, each strike grounding me in the moment.
“Your turn.” I offered Mina the axe. She took it, her fingers brushed against mine.
“It’s heavier than I expected,” she said, struggling to lift it.
I moved behind her, adjusting her grip. “Wider stance,” I murmured, beside her ear. “It’ll help balance the weight. Now, just like with the hammer, you want a firm grip. This time, you’re using your whole body, not just your arms.”
Mina nodded. She swung, the axe glancing off the log with a dull thunk .
“Almost,” I said, unable to keep a hint of amusement from my voice. “Try it again.”
I caught myself watching Mina more than I should’ve. There was something about her pluck that pulled me in. She kept at it, swinging the axe with all she had, even as her face scrunched up in frustration. Each miss seemed to fuel her next swing. I had to admit; it was hard to look away.
“Darn it,” Mina said, crouching down. “At this rate, I’ll have one log at the end of winter.”
“Keep at it. You’re getting closer.”
She shot me a look, half-irritated, half-amused. “Liar. I’m making a fool of myself.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But you’re a persistent one.”
That got a laugh out of her. She hefted the axe again. The sun dipped below the treeline when Mina finally split a log cleanly in two. “Did you see that?” she grinned.
“Good job.”
Mina beamed up at me, her happiness infectious. For a moment, I forgot to keep my guard up, forgot about the curse that hung over me. In that fleeting instant, I was nothing more than a man, standing with a woman who made me feel...
The thought jolted me back to reality. No. I couldn’t afford to feel anything . Not with what I was.
“We should head in,” I said, the words coming out sharper than I intended. Mina flinched, and I instantly hated myself. “It’s getting dark outside.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. We gathered the tools and walked back to the farmhouse in silence. Just as we reached the porch, Mina’s hand on my arm stopped me.
“So, where did you learn how to fix all this stuff?”
“Had no choice. Either I learned to repair things or spend long nights cold.”
“Thanks for helping today,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now.
“It’s work. Fixing things... it gave me purpose, you know? The roof caved in every winter at the cabin I stayed in. I’d spend days patching it up. It was peaceful. Just me and the work.”
“What changed?”
“Life. Things change.”
Her hand hovered near mine, not quite touching. “Not everything has to.”
I looked down, meeting her gaze. The warmth in her eyes threatened to melt the ice I’d carefully built around my heart. Briefly, I allowed myself to imagine a different life. A time where I could be the man she seemed to see beneath my gruff exterior. But I was cursed, dangerous. Mina deserved more than the broken man I’d become.
“This ain’t no fairy tale, sweetheart,” I growled, but there was less bite to it than I intended.
Mina stepped in front of me. “Maybe not, but I understand you a little more. The way you keep everything at arm’s length, including myself.” She reached out, her fingertips barely grazing my beard. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
The softness of her touch sent a lightning bolt through me, nearly undid the last thread of control I had. I wanted to crush her against me, to breathe her in, to consume her whole. I grabbed her wrist, my grip firm but not painful.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for. I’m not some project you can fix up like this farmhouse.”
Mina’s eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to understand you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I released her, taking a step back. “There’s nothing to understand,” I muttered, turning away.
But she wasn’t done. She moved in front of me again, her chin tilted up. “I don’t believe that for a second. I’ve seen glimpses of who you really are. When you defended me against Gladys as a turkey, or the way you taught me today, how patient you were. The man who pulls me back from danger without hesitation. There’s kindness in you, and strength. That’s not nothing.”
I swallowed hard, fighting against the warmth her words stirred in my chest. “You’re seeing what you want to see.”
“Am I?” She took a step closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her body. “Then show me.”
Her words hung in the air between us. I knew I should walk away, slam the door on whatever this was before it was too late. But something in her eyes held me there, rooted to the spot.
“Show you what?”
“Show me who you really are. Not the mask you wear, not the walls you’ve built. Show me the man underneath all that.”
There it was again. She stood before me, offering me something I’d convinced myself I could never have.
Making me think I had a chance in hell. “Sweetheart, you don’t know who you’re dealing with here. I’m not a good man.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from my chest. “Maybe you should be.”