Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Dylan will play hardball, and a part of me respects the hell out of that. Sure, he’s being a little fuckhead. But he’s trying to be a man in the best way he knows how. He’s trying to protect his mother and his home from me, the guy who instincts tell him might be preying on them.
He’s not wrong, and I don’t want to negate his innate sense to listen to his gut.
I need to figure out how to convince him to let me help while still letting him have dominion over his space.
“Hey, I don’t blame you,” I say. “Always trust your gut.”
His brows pull together in confusion.
I peer over one of the loose rails I saw him fiddling with from my window.
“Oh, I bet you’ll have a hell of a time with this one.” I point at the edge of the rail he was trying to fix. “Is that giving you shit?”
He nods warily.
“You probably don’t have any screws long enough to attach it, do you?” I ask.
“No. But I’ll get some.”
I run a hand down my jaw. “I’m a carpenter and have seen this many times. You can try the screws, but you’d be better off just replacing the whole board.” I shrug. “That’s just my professional opinion. Take it or leave it.”
He swallows hard, watching me carefully. “Why are you being so nice to us?”
His question puts me on the spot. It throws me off for a moment. Why am I being so nice to you?
“I mean, I know why you’re being so nice to Mom,” he says. “You probably want to do her.”
“Well, Dylan, that’s not a conversation I’m going to have with you.”
“But why are you being nice to me?”
My heart tugs in my chest, and I decide to be honest with him. “Because I hope someone is being nice to my daughter right now . . . just for the sake of being kind. No ulterior motives.”
“All right.” He pauses. “Where does she live?”
I blow out a shaky breath and yank the board in question off the deck. That’s enough honesty for one day. “I have a whole bunch of these in my garage, taking up space. Want them? I’ll help you carry them over.”
His eyes search mine.
“You’ll be doing me a favor,” I say, hoping he’ll follow my redirection. “I was going to donate them somewhere anyway. You might as well take them. I gotta get them out of my way.”
I’m not sure he’s going to go with it. Finally, he sighs. “Sure, I guess.”
We set off for the garage, Dylan a couple of steps behind me. I give him a few minutes to get his head together and to come up with a plan on how he’s going to handle this. If I don’t, he’ll act like a child out of habit, and no one wants that.
I can also use a few minutes to get my head together. This morning has gone sideways in ways I didn’t predict.
We enter the garage and I sort the boards, gathering a stack that will work for him. The noise keeps us from having to speak for a while. Thank God.
“If these are too long, just mark where they need to be cut, and we can cut them over here,” I say, motioning toward my saws.
“Yeah. Okay.” He holds his arms out while I put the boards across them. “You’re really just giving these to us?”
“They’ve sat here for months.”
He nods. “Okay.” He looks around. “You have a lot of tools.”
“I’ve liked building things since I was your little brother’s age.”
“You know Carter?”
“He came by last night wanting me to help him with his basketball. The kid never stops moving.”
Dylan grins. “That’s Carter.” His affection for his little brother is clear. That’s interesting, considering I’ve seen how he talks to everyone else. “So how did you learn how to build things?”
“Practice, mostly. I went to a trade school while I was in high school and learned the basics. It’s a lot harder than people think.”
“So do you build houses or what?”
“I don’t build them from the ground up. That involves a lot of shit that I don’t want to deal with. I do a lot of renovations, and sometimes that means adding a room or taking one down. That kind of thing.”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“There are worse ways to make a living.”
He nods, seemingly satisfied by his investigation of me. “Does that offer to help still stand? Not because I can’t do it. But because, you know, it might go faster with two guys on the job.”
“No problem. I have some time on my hands.”
He smiles, relief written all over his face. “Thanks. What did you say your name is?”
“I’m Jay.”
“I’m Dylan.”
“All right, Dylan. Let’s get over there and get to work.”
We start back across the lawn. Gabrielle watches us from the front porch. Her grin says, Thank you. My wave says, Don’t worry about it.