Page 43 of Citadel

I feel decent about what I was able to say yesterday and don’t want to taint it by making a mess of a conversation today. So I hurry back to the cottage and gather my tools and climb on the roof.

I finished the shingles yesterday, but I’m worried about the flashing around the chimney, so I want to replace that today. Surely once that’s done, the roof will be okay for at least a year.

I’ve been working for about fifteen minutes when a voice comes from below. “I’m coming up, Del.”

I know who it is without checking. “I don’t need your help.”

“Maybe not, but you’re gonna get it anyway.”

I grumble to myself, but I’m not stupid enough to get in a fight up on a roof. Besides, Cole is almost certainly better at construction than me. If I haven’t done a good job with this, then he can fix it.

He climbs up beside me, searches my face quickly before he examines the work I’ve been doing. “This looks good,” he mutters.

The words are soft and matter-of-fact but mean more to me than any fawning praise would have.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” He moves higher up the roof and starts hammering some flashing in on the far side of the chimney.

“Just by doing it. I thought you’d be leaving today.”

“Not yet.”

With both of us working, we get the job done quickly. Cole climbs down first and then helps me down. His hands linger on my waist after my feet have hit the ground, so I take a step backward.

He drops his arms.

“Any word on your brother?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not sure. That gang he was running with on the coast came inland, but now I’m wondering if they broke up, since I’ve been having trouble tracking them lately. He and some others might have hooked up with a crew that’s been hitting places south of us. But all the news I get is second- and thirdhand, so I don’t know how accurate it is.”

“The new crew he’s with… they’re…”

“Assholes. Nothing but the same kind of assholes.”

“Maybe he’s not with them. If it’s just random talk you’ve heard, it might not be—”

“Nah. He’s with them.” His expression is tight. His eyes bleak.

I fight the most ridiculous urge to comfort him. “So when will you go after him?”

“I don’t know.” His mouth works strangely, like he’s torn over something. “Probably soon.”

I nod. “Okay. Well. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else you need doing in the house?”

There’s plenty of work that needs doing, but I can’t think of any of it at the moment. I swallow hard. “I don’t need your help.”

“I can see that. But I’m offering it anyway. Why would you turn it down?”

There’s an answer to this question, but I’m not sure I can articulate it. “We’ve done fine on our own.”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean you can’t accept help.”

“Breanna likes us to be self-sufficient.”

“What do you like?”

“What?”

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