Page 24 of Hammered and Nailed
“I’m fine,” I protested.
“You’re not. Now, go lie down.”
I pushed the curtain open, towel wrapped around my waist, water dripping onto my shoulders and running down my back thanks to my still-damp hair. “I feel better.”
“Good. Now, bed.”
“You’re not going to join me?”
He smiled softly and tilted his head toward the bedroom. “As much as I’d like that, no.”
“Why not?”
“Mason,” he chastised. “You need to rest. You almost got heat stroke up there. You need to take some time to recover. What you don’t need right now is to fool around with your boyfriend.” The moment the word was out of his mouth, his eyes widened and he put his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s not—”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Nope. Too late. The cat’s out of the bag now. You want me to be your boyfriend.” I said it with a teasing, singsong tone, but the thought made my heartbeat pick up again, my chest tight, butterflies in my stomach, the whole nine yards. I hadn’t thought much about putting a label on what we were doing, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It felt… right, somehow. It made me nervous, maybe, but not bad-nervous. More like first day of school nervous—standing on the edge of something that might be exciting. The idea that Emery liked it and that he felt good about what we were doing was enough to make me happy.
Emery rolled his eyes. “Get to bed before I kick your ass.”
I sighed and went into the bedroom, climbing naked under the covers and tossing the towel aside.
“What am I, your housekeeper?” He scoffed as he bent to pick up the towel.
“No, apparently you’re my boyfriend,” I murmured, softer this time, my heart squeezing in my chest.
“Shut up and take a nap.” Emery went back to the bathroom and emerged with my dirty clothes. “Good night,” he said in a soft, singsong tone, and he closed the bedroom door behind him as he left me alone.
As I lay there, waiting for sleep to take me, I turned the word over and over in my mind. Boyfriend. Was that what I wanted? I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted, but what I knew was that the thought of calling Emery my boyfriend—mine—made my heart race.
Chapter Eleven
Emery
Icouldn’thelpbutworryabout Mason the rest of the day. Even though he was napping and probably going to be just fine, there was a part of me that wanted to check on him every ten minutes to be sure he was doing okay. I did grab a couple of bottles of water and leave them on the nightstand for him, but there wasn’t much else I could do to help.
Instead of spinning out, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand. I folded the laundry I’d washed, putting a show on my phone to watch while I worked. It helped keep me distracted and soon enough, the linens were folded and ready to be tucked away into linen closets. I let myself finish the show I was watching before telling myself it was time to get up and do something productive again.
There wasn’t much I could do in terms of repairs, not alone, but I could start the demolition required to replace the drywall. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom that would needwalls repaired, and Mason had explained to me the night before what needed to be done. I felt reasonably confident that I knew what to do and could handle it myself. At the very least, I knew I couldn’t really make thingsworse, so I got a hammer and a crowbar and headed to the back bedroom to get to work.
As I stepped into the room, I realized that while we’d taken out most of the furniture, we hadn’t checked the closet for clothes or damage. I sighed, tossed the hammer and crowbar down near the wall that needed to be ripped out, and opened the closet door. Inside, I was greeted by a mostly empty space, except for a small fireproof safe at the top of the closet.
“That’s weird. What areyoudoing here?” I asked the safe. Unfortunately, it didn’t respond, but my curiosity was piqued, and I was eager to find out what was inside.
I pulled the safe down, wondering why I’d never noticed it before. I’d been in that bedroom plenty of times, but it wasn’t the main bedroom I slept in. Still, though, I thought I’d known the cabin inside and out. Apparently not. The safe was heavy, but I couldn’t tell whether that was due to the contents or the fact that it was a steel box. I carried it into the living room and placed it on a table to open it, quickly discovering that it was, in fact, locked.
“Where could the key be?” I asked myself out loud. I headed into the kitchen area to rummage through what my mom had always called our “junk drawer,” the drawer that held all the small stuff without a home. Inside were flashlights, a corkscrew, spare batteries, and more. I found several pairs of scissors, a deck of cards, and a couple of campfire lighters. After a few moments ofdigging, I unearthed a ring of keys tucked at the very back of the drawer. “Ah-hah,” I said triumphantly.
The ring had a mixed batch of keys, some silvery, some bronze, of all different sizes and shapes. I peered at the safe, investigating the lock.Silver. Okay, that narrows it down.I started trying to slide the silver keys into the lock. It took a few tries, but eventually I found the right key and it slid into the lock smoothly.
I pulled the safe open and propped the lid up. Inside were stacks of papers that looked mostly boring, but I couldn’t stop myself from rummaging through the contents. At first, nothing jumped out as particularly interesting. Ownership paperwork for the cabin and tax documents were on the top. As I dug in, though, things got more interesting.
Under the deed and tax papers were savings bonds. I didn’t know much about what a savings bond was supposed to look like, but the dates were from the same year I was born. I placed those aside in a separate pile. Beneath those, at the very bottom, was a small photo album. I picked it up and flipped open the cover, frowning.Why would they keep a photo album hidden away in a safe, instead of out with the rest of the family pictures?
The first page of pictures were of groups of people that were mostly unfamiliar to me. The only face I recognized was my dad’s, usually in the middle of the group shots, young and carefree with a joyful smile on his face. I flipped to the next page. More pictures of my dad, but most of them were of him and another man, someone I didn’t recognize. A cousin, maybe,or a friend. The other man looked about the same age as my dad, and in several of the pictures, they had their arms around each other’s backs. In one, they were sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, smiles wide, both faces pink from the sun.
I turned the page again. More pictures of my dad and the other man. Instead of casual best friend type shots, these were pictures of the two of them embracing, chest to chest, holding each other close. In several, they were looking into each other’s eyes. And in one, they were kissing.
My mouth dropped open, brow furrowing, and my stomach fluttered. My dad? Kissing another man? I turned the page, and there were several more pictures of the same. My dad and the other man, shirtless in some pictures, wearing just swimming trunks, holding each other, looking into one another’s eyes, kissing, and even one where my dad’s head was on the stranger’s shoulder as they appeared to slow dance.
