Page 45 of When We Were Us
I stop just outside the master bedroom. I’ve yet to touch anything in here, and if he’s curious about why I’m not using it, he doesn’t ask.
“There are a couple of loose boards over on the other side of the bed. I don’t know if that’s something that can be fixed quickly or not.”
Hank steps in and crosses the room. He tests the boards with a booted foot, and the floor squeaks in protest. I can’t help the way my eyes travel from there and up his muscular thighs, landing on his ass. I jerk my eyes away and move into the ensuite before he turns back around.
“I can countersink a couple of nails in. Shouldn't be a problem.”
He moves through to the tiny bathroom. His sleeve brushes my bare arm, and I catch a scent of that delicious combination that I have come to attribute to him. My stomach gives a tiny tug.
We move through the rest of the house quickly, and together, we take an inventory of what needs to be fixed. He mentions a previous leak under the kitchen faucet, but I haven’t noticed anything. He says he’ll check that as well as the toilet in the upstairs bathroom that seems to run off and on.
We trek through the mudroom. The washer and dryer occupy the space as well as old metal cabinets along one wall. I’ve yet to go through them and I can just imagine the hodgepodge of items I’ll find in there.
I push open the screen door and step outside.
“I know there are a few boards out here that need replacing. I did a few in the front last spring. There should be leftover wood in the garage. Also, these stairs will need new risers.” He motions to the crumbling step toward the bottom that someone has shored up with a few flat pavers.
“Is that hard to do?” I know Hank offered to help, but now that we’re walking the property, it seems like there is so much more to do than I originally thought. He has to have a lot on his plate with the ranch, and I don’t want to impose.
I can feel a headache starting at the base of my skull. The funds aren’t a problem. Even without my own money, there is plenty in my granddad's trust to make any repairs needed. It’s the time that it will take to get it all done that worries me. I can’t stay in Timber Forge indefinitely.
“Not hard. More time than anything, and labor if I can’t find them pre-built. If Larry doesn’t have what we need, I’m sure Hutch will cut something for us.”
“Perfect.” I don’t know why I say it, or why it came out the way it did, sort of irritated and huffy. He’s offered to help and he’s actually being civil. The last thing I need is to piss off Hank again. But if he notices my tone, he doesn’t acknowledge it.
Also, it’s not lost on me the pronouns he chooses.Weandus. My throat suddenly feels dry. I cough to clear it.
Hank crouches down to look under the stairs leading off the back deck.
“Who is Larry?” I gaze down at him, but then snap my fingers and point at him when it hits me. “Hardware Store Guy.”
With a light laugh, he stands and shakes his head, shooting me a smile that hits me straight in the chest. “Yeah, Hardware Store Guy.”
I let out a little laugh of my own. I suddenly feel very warm. Our eyes catch and hold for a moment, and I think he might say something. Instead, he just slides his gaze away and starts for the side of the house. I descend the stairs and follow after him, trying like crazy to keep my eyes off his ass as he walks in front of me.
It’s a really nice ass. Always has been.
I almost run into him when I look up and realize he’s stopped. He’s got his head craned back and is looking up at the side of the house. When I stop just short of crashing into him, he turns his head, eyeing me as I catch my balance.
“You ok?”
My face flushes and I nod. Throwing a hand over my eyes against the sun, I look up to where he points.
“You’re missing a vent cover on this side. Maybe it's in the garage?”
I snort. “Good luck finding anything in there.”
He glances back at the garage and rubs the back of his neck with a wistful smile. “I was supposed to help Vern clean it out one weekend, but when I got here, he told me life was too short to spend all afternoon cleaning. He’d gone in and taken a nap instead.”
Sudden and overwhelming guilt rips through me with a force that nearly takes my breath away, followed quickly by dual pangs of sadness and regret. I fight the prick of tears that suddenly sting my eyes. The pain must show on my face, because when Hank looks back at me, his face falls.
He pauses and I feel him looking me over, trying to decide what to say. There’s uncertainty in his eyes, but sympathy too.
“It’s got to be hard being back here and surrounded by all of their things.”
I nod and swipe at my cheeks with my fingertips as two tears fall. I’m realizing that I haven’t yet had a good cry since coming back home.
Home.Even that hurts because I truly do feel like this is home for the first time in a very long time.
