48. Eli
Eli
“You’re really good at all this,” Easton says as we continue the demo on Kendra’s house with his small but efficient crew.
I try not to roll my eyes. “Yeah, I worked construction all through high school and college. Still do odd jobs here and there when people need help. I know my way around shit like this.” I drive my sledgehammer into the kitchen counter imagining Bennett’s face.
I bring the heavy tool down, driving its weight over and over, wood splintering from the old cupboard underneath, unsatisfactory damage for the fury stampeding through my system. Yelling out in rage, I toss the sledgehammer to the side, where nobody is standing, and whip my hard hat too.
“Hey, y’all take a lunch break,” Easton says to his guys, and they make a quick exit.
I wipe sweat off my face with the bottom of my shirt and feel a wave of embarrassment from having near strangers witness my meltdown.
“You alright, man?” Easton cautiously asks.
Rubbing the back of my stiff neck I ask, “Kendra told you?”
“Bare minimum. She said that she was attacked here the night of Rem and Lainey’s wedding and hasn’t been able to step foot in here since. Tried the first day I came here to see the house.” He chuckles. “Day I had the pleasure of meeting you for the first time.”
“Yeah sorry about that,” I grudgingly say.
“I get it, Kendra is special. But you don’t have anything to worry about. I have my own complicated life.” Easton takes a long drink from his water, his confidence wavering for the first time.
“This place means a lot to Kendra, was her nana’s, and she used to spend summers here with her.
Then when she died, her nana left it to her.
That asshole made her safe space feel unsafe.
He even went out back and smashed all her wedding pottery she had made for Rem and Lainey.
She can’t even work on fixing it yet because of her broken arm. ”
“That fucker.” Easton’s jaw muscle flickers with anger.
“We have to get this right for her.” I level him with a stare.
“And once we do, Kendra’s gonna move out of your house? Back over here? How do you feel about that?” Easton’s sea-green eyes are awash with empathy.
“Honestly, Easton, like shit.”