Page 76 of By Your Side
I knelt in front of the busted cooler, the tools heavy in my hands as I surveyed the mess. Wires poked out from the back panel—some frayed, others pulled loose like someone had been searching for a quick fix without caring where each piece belonged. It didn’t look accidental. More like frustration, or maybe someone trying to cover their tracks. This was like a bad sequel to the freezer repair. But this time I was sure it wasn’t an accident.
“I keep thinking someone is fucking with her,” I mumbled. “Or whoever tried to fix it is just plain stupid. This is almost the same as the freezer, but more obvious. The freezer is so old it could have been just worn out.”
“Huh?” Spencer knelt to look over my shoulder. “Oh shit. Do you think Jasper tried to fix it? Or did he screw with it? What are you thinking?”
“No idea.” I was tightening a connection when the door creaked. “He doesn’t seem the type to fuck with her. But what do I know?”
“Spencer, did you—” Paige’s voice cut off. Then, sharper: “Hunter?”
I straightened, caught in her stare. Her hair was pulled up in a messy knot, with a few curly tendrils hanging down. Her snug tank top said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.”
She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
Fuck, I wanted her. Time seemed to slow as I met her startled gaze. Her name caught on my tongue—too intimate, too raw—so I just nodded instead. Spencer, never one for subtlety, sidestepped out of the way, but I could feel him watching as Paige lingered in the doorway, torn between leaving us in secret and risking something by stepping forward.
I set the wrench down and wiped my hands, searching for words that didn’t sound like apologies or confessions or begging. Paige’s eyes flicked to the cooler, then back to me, uncertainty warring with something softer. She hung in the threshold, the weight of unspoken things hovering between us like humidity before a storm.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she managed, her voice a little rough around the edges. I started to answer, but she glanced at the tools, the tangled wires, then at Spencer, as if to remind herself she wasn’t alone with me.
Spencer cleared his throat, trying to cut the tension. “It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. Well, unless you’re the health inspector. The dumpster is pretty rank out there.”
That got the faintest hint of a smile from Paige—a flicker, then gone. The air shifted, just enough for her to take a step in, boots scuffing along the battered linoleum.
Uncertainty flickered across her face. I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow, and tried to read her—tried to see past that armor she wore whenever she felt cornered. The silence pressed in, thick as the heat from the dead cooler.
Spencer stood up, dusted his hands on his jeans, and said nothing. He watched us. Concerned as he realized that whatever was broken in the tavern wasn’t just wires and coolant lines, but the invisible current running between Paige and me.
Paige stepped closer, the floor creaking under her boots. She glanced at the mess, at me, and for a heartbeat, her resolve slipped. It was there in the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, in the way her voice faltered.
“You didn't have to come,” she said, softer now, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t want to take advantage?—”
I shook my head, cutting her off. “I couldn't stay away. Not when you needed help.”
She hesitated, conflicted, then nodded toward the cooler. “Is it fixable?”
“Yeah, we got it,” I said, voice low. “At least temporarily.”
She lingered, arms crossed, as if she might say more. But instead, she just watched—the silence between us tighter than any wire I'd spliced. Spencer rattled through the toolbox, grumbling under his breath, but it only made the tension more pronounced.
Paige let out a small breath, like she was weighing what would happen if she let me back in. I wished I could promise her things would go back to normal, but some breaks didn’t mend with pliers and patience. Still, I met her gaze—steady, open, waiting for whatever came next.
For a second, the only sound was Spencer muttering to himself as he dug through the parts. Paige stood a little straighter, her arms crossed, but I caught the guilt in her eyes before she masked it.
“I—can we talk for a minute?” She tilted her head toward the back door, and I followed her out.
We stood there in silence. Her mouth opened. Then closed. She hugged her arms around her middle and took a deep breath in.
It was miserable. I’d never felt awkward around her like this. Not ever. Not even when we started having feelings for each other. “I’m trying to do what you asked,” I said finally. “Keep things quiet. Stay out of the way. But it’s not easy, Paige. You have no idea how hard it is for me to act like nothing’s changed between us.”
Her throat worked, like she was swallowing words she didn’t want to say. Or maybe couldn’t say.
“I’m not asking you to pretend,” she said softly. “I just need time. I’m not ready for everyone to see.”
I nodded, even though the ache in my chest made it hard to breathe. “Then I’ll keep giving you time. It’s okay, I swear.” It wasn’t. But it was my problem, not hers. She’d been nothing but clear about what she needed.
From inside the back room, Spencer muttered a satisfied, “There we go.” The hum of machinery filled the silence between us, low and steady.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and looked at her one more time. She was still watching me, her arms folded, like she was trying to hold herself together. I wanted to reach for her. To close the gap. Instead, I backed toward the door.
