Page 101 of Claim to Fame

“What does it look like?” Another swing, another thwack, and the hole widened.

“Any particular reason you’re demolishing your house today?”

Ethan shot a glance at Jamie over his shoulder and set the sledgehammer down, reaching for his bottle of water. “Needed a change.”

Jamie’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Hannah moving out wasn’t enough?”

Ethan scowled. “Did you need something?”

“Tessa wanted me to remind you about family dinner.”

The sledgehammer dislodged a chunk of drywall, the misshapen piece falling onto the tarp Ethan had spread on the ground beneath the wall. “I haven’t forgotten one yet.”

He could feel Jamie standing behind him, watching him swing the hammer over and over, slowly widening the opening in the wall, his attention like a sticky syrup coating his skin.

“Did you need something else?” Ethan grunted.

“What happened?”

“I’ve always wanted to open it up down here.”

“Not with the wall. With Hannah.”

Ethan faltered in his swing, the hammer landing off center and not making as big of an impact as he’d intended. He frowned at the hole, setting the hammer down again. Raising the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, he turned to his friend. “Nothing happened. It just didn’t work out.”

Jamie arched an eyebrow that made it clear exactly how much he believed that story. “You’ve been completely gone for this woman since the moment she showed up in town—”

“I have not.”

“—and you’re trying to tell me itjust didn’t work out?” Jamie scoffed. “What did you do?”

“Nobody did anything. Our lives are too different. It was never going to work long term anyway.”

“Says who?”

Ethan shook his head, reaching for the sledgehammer again. “I did what I had to do. It’s best for everybody.”

“Doesn’t look like it’s best for you.”

Ethan ignored him, putting all his energy into swinging the sledgehammer harder. Maybe if he could hit hard enough, exhaust his muscles enough, make a big enough hole in the wall, maybe then he wouldn’t have time to think about all the destruction he’d caused elsewhere in his life.

Behind him, Jamie sighed. “Don’t be late for dinner.”

He wouldn’t be. Ethan was never late. That was his whole schtick, after all, wasn’t it? He did what he said he would do. He solved problems. He fixed things.

The way you’re fixing this wall?

He was never disruptive or inconvenient or unreliable in any way.

Except for Hannah. She trusted you and you were completely unreliable.

Another swing, another thwack. This time the hit reverberated up his arm. How many swings would it take to forget the look on her face when she told him not to follow her? How many swings to stop wondering if she was right about him, if he was hiding?

As he suspected, he didn’t have enough swings left in him for that. When his arms felt like Jello and his chest was heaving with the exertion of it, the wall stripped down to the studs and providing a clear view all the way across the basement, he dragged himself back upstairs and took a scalding hot shower, washing away the sweat and the grime, bits of plaster dust and drywall. But not the ache making his chest feel heavy. Not the emptiness opening inside his ribcage and threatening to pull him under. No amount of hot water could ease those things.

He was seven minutes early for family dinner, but he was still the last to arrive. From the moment he stepped into Lemon and Thyme, he knew something was different. Instead of the laughter and chatter that usually greeted him at a family dinner, the room was quiet, his friends and family talking in hushed tones, already seated at the tables Jamie had pushed together to make one giant table. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he moved into the room, all eyes turning in his direction.

“Where’s Julie?” he asked, scanning the group for his granddaughter.

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