Page 48 of Nailed

I drove Sam to her parking lot to pick up his truck.

“Thanks for the talk,” he said.

On the way home, I’d told Sam what I told Seamus back when he was in his twenties and deciding whether he wanted to join the family business. Even though the company was called Reilly and Sons back then, I never gave him any pressure about joining me. I only wanted him there if he wanted to be there.

The more I’d gotten to know Sam, the more I wanted him at Reilly once he got certified. His sister had been a terrific addition, and I knew he would be, too. They were good kids. But just like now, I didn’t tell Sam what he should do. I just told him why building homes was so important to me, then I let him ask anything he wanted.

“I’m going to get my application into the school this week,” Sam said as he hopped out of the truck. “Maybe you could talk to the dean about Ellie too?”

“Just make sure a woman’s not the only reason you’re choosing this career path,” I said.

He grinned. “Nah. Just the deciding factor.”

I gave him a raised eyebrow but smiled, too. “See ya, kid.”

At least that goodbye didn’t hurt like the last.

* * *

Tim’s place was completely snowed over, of course. I let out a weary sigh, making a mental note to tell Santa to pick up a Proline for my neighbor. Maybe I’d show his boys how to use it.

The door to my place swung open as I trudged up the walkway, duffel in hand.

Chelsea held Sergeant Tom in her arms. Seamus stood with his arm around her, his chin on the top of her head.

My heart swelled to see my son, even though I knew he’d be there. He’d texted me earlier, telling me he was in town a day earlier than planned and was going to make dinner at my place when I got home.

“Welcome home,” Chelsea said.

I eyed my cat. “I don’t know if Tom’s ever going to let you leave.”

She grinned. “He’s a big ole sap on the inside. Kinda like someone else I know.”

I grumbled, giving both of them hugs, then unzipping my coat. The place smelled delicious. Lasagna, I guessed.

I was hungry, but I couldn’t even muster up the enthusiasm to think about eating.

For a moment, I stood in the entryway, seeing myself hanging up my coat, dropping my keys in the bowl, setting my boots neatly on the tray by the door. Settling back into my lonely fucking life where I spent half my time trying not to think endlessly about Sarah Cooper.

How was I going to get through even a moment of my life without Sarah? I thought of her room, with her clothes tossed over the chair, her papers in a pile on the desk. She slept the same way as she existed—a little gangly, a lot adorable.

Seamus came up beside me. “Dad, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I grumbled.

I felt, more than saw, them exchange a glance.

“Why aren’t you taking off your coat?”

I looked over at my son. He was nearly bang-on the same height as me. Looked like me, too. Save eighteen years.

My chest tightened. I wanted to say I loved him, but I didn’t want him to think I was dying or something. So instead, I said, “When were you going to tell me you were engaged?”

Chelsea startled, dropping Sergeant Tom. The cat shook himself off and trotted away like he was insulted.

“We were going to,” she said.

“How long has it been?”

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