19. JT
Chapter nineteen
JT
The smell of coffee and breakfast sandwiches mingles with the low hum of chatter in the coffee shop. The place is packed, with people crowding together, bundled up against the morning chill. It feels like half the town has shown up, all bleary-eyed and yawning, but ready to get to work. I take in the scene—the familiar faces, others I’ve only seen in passing—and it hits me that everyone here is up this early just to lend a hand. There’s a loyalty in Wild Bluffs I’m not used to seeing in the city.
Lila hands me my coffee, her fingers brushing against mine, and gives me a quick grin. “Ready for a day of cleaning and construction, Pretty Boy?”
I smirk, taking a sip. “If you can handle it, Pipsqueak, I’m sure I can. Though I’d like to get some food into me first.”
We find a spot near the door, and I dig into my egg sandwich. The Harpers show up a few minutes later, Ken giving me a nod before he heads to talk to a group of men. Kelsey and Izzy both make their way to us, their mom pulling both Lila and me into hugs.
The organizer calls out assignments, sending us off in groups to places around town that got hit hardest by last night’s storm. Lila and I get paired with the Harpers and a few other families and head to Sunshine Hills, the local nursing home.
When we pull up, there’s already a small crowd gathered outside, families pulling toolboxes out of their cars, everyone ready to pitch in. I recognize a few of the faces from around town—a lady who is at the coffee shop with Janice most days and one of the waiters from the country club. Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, the couple who run the local hardware store, are unloading supplies from the back of their truck.
Lila ties her hair back, the same focused look in her eyes that I’ve seen a hundred times when she’s set on something. I’m half tempted to make a comment that I know will rile her up, but the whole scene has me feeling too…comfortable.
Ken walks over, offering me a red-handled hammer. “Think you’re up for a bit of work today, JT?”
I chuckle, grabbing the hammer. “I think I can handle it, Mr. Harper. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”
He laughs, his eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “That’s what I like to hear.”
The first task is boarding up broken windows, and Lila, predictably, is quick to remind me that I’d better be careful not to hurt my back trying to reach the high windows. I pretend not to notice the challenge in her smirk and grab a piece of plywood, hauling it up with Ken’s help. Lila snaps a picture of us as we press the board into place. I stick my tongue out at her, and she mouths focus back at me, rolling her eyes.
As I work alongside Ken and the Harpers, the conversation flows easily, and we swap stories about the tornado that hit the next town over a few years back, last year’s fishing trip disaster, and—of course—the sports teams this year and how they are going to fare. At one point I realized they were discussing the high school team’s volleyball record from twenty years ago and quickly let my mind wander again, my eyes following Lila as she hands out water bottles to the group.
“You know,” Kelsey says, squinting at me as Ken and I line up the next board, “I was pretty surprised to see you here to help, JT. I thought you mentioned you’re a big-city guy through and through. Pitching in to clean up the town is definitely a small-town thing to do.”
I shake my head, but there’s something in me that wants to agree. “Maybe. It’s not like this in the city—everyone just minds their own business there.”
Ken nods. “Well, that’s the thing about small towns. We may know far too much about each other, but when things go sideways, we come together.”
The work goes on, and I find myself surprisingly content in the rhythm of lifting, hammering, and chatting with the people around me. After a while, I take a quick break and snap a photo of the group hard at work, sending it off to Sam. A few seconds later, he responds: Nice work, man. How much are you thinking of donating?
I stare at his message, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s right. Sure, the nursing home’s insurance will cover the repairs, but something about today, about the people around me, makes me want to do more. I type back a response, telling him to set up an anonymous donation, something that feels substantial enough to make a difference.
As the day wears on, the shenanigans inevitably start. At one point, Ken and another guy, Dale, start arguing over the best way to nail the plywood, and I can’t help but laugh as they bicker like a married couple about it. Lila and Jen catch on and start placing bets on who’ll give in first. Unfortunately for Ken, Dale never backs down, and I’ve never seen someone more committed to winning a bet involving a hammer.
When we finally finish boarding up the last window, Lila and I meet up near the entrance, both of us covered in dust and probably looking as exhausted as we feel. She grins, brushing plywood dust off her shirt. “Not bad, Johnson. Didn’t think you’d last this long.”
“Oh, please. I did all the heavy lifting,” I tease, nudging her shoulder with mine.
“Maybe so, but I’m the one who kept everyone hydrated,” she says, flashing that smug smile of hers. “Dehydration is the enemy , JT.”
The rest of the crew starts gathering their things, and Ken walks over, clapping a hand on my shoulder again. “Good work today, JT. You know, you might just make it in this town.”
“Thanks, Mr. Harper,” I say, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. “Means a lot coming from you.”
He chuckles, giving me a nod. “Anytime, son. And hey, you ever get tired of golf, there might even be room on one of these construction crews for you. It’s going to be a long time before everything is repaired from this storm.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As we head out, the group of us tired but satisfied, I glance back at Sunshine Hills, at the work we’ve done today. It’s hard to explain, but something about it feels right, like I’m finally where I’m supposed to be.