Page 91 of Dream Chaser
“All right. Drive safe.” She opens the door, and Wile gets up and follows her in.
A tear falls, and Dad wipes it away. “He’s not snubbing you; he’s just avoiding whatever chaos you girls are gonna get up to tonight.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll follow you down the hill.”
Half an hour later, Dad’s got sheet rock cut out of the wall on the first floor, and I’m in the parking lot, cutting two-by-fours down to size for the new framing.
He walks out.
“I can bring them in.”
“I know you can,” he says but grabs an armful anyway and heads inside.
I follow him and see he’s already screwed the piece he cut to the old opening. “Found some mud in the storage room. Gonna get that on to set for the night. All the old frame pieces and door will fit perfectly in the new opening.”
“Are you going to have someone come recalibrate the?—”
“Izzy.” He shakes his head. “You have that little faith in me?”
“Please, I have the most faith in you. If you say you can do it, you can and will.”
“That’s right.” He steps back, and I see the crate is flush with the floor. “Done. Now let’s head upstairs.”
“You don’t have to do it all today.”
“Got the time and the materials, and my little helper.” He looks at his watch. “What time will the girls be here?”
“Seven? Eight?”
“It’s one. We’ll get it done and cleaned up in a couple of hours. I’ll come back to do the third floor tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you?—”
“It’s basically moving a door. Not a big deal.” He nods to the stairway. “Let’s go.”
After we take apart the bookshelf, he steps back. “In under twenty minutes.” He holds out his hand, and I give him the tape measure. “So, you good?”
“I know Mom’s worried about me, but I’m not stupid. I?—”
He leans back on his heels and looks up me, all Dad and no bullshit. “You’re not stupid, Iz. You’re my kid. You’re fierce. However, when things become complicated, you either go all-in or all-out. No in-between.”
My jaw clenches.
“You don’t have to tell us everything,” he adds, standing as he taps measurements into his phone. “But if someone’s got your back, like he said up there … maybe don’t shove it away because you’re afraid it won’t stick.”
I blink rapidly. “We’re not a thing.”
He brushes the dust off his hands. “Didn’t say you were. But I saw the way he looked at you. Hell, I saw the way he looked at Wile. Hell, Wile licked his face.”
“He licked his face once,” I grumble.
Dad just laughs. “Yeah, once. You don’t get that kind of love from Wile unless he’s decided you’re worthy.”
I feel my face heating up. “I dated jocks in college?—”
“Griffon is not a college jock; he’s a professional athlete. Different breed.” He points to himself. “Trust me.”
