They both reached for the fallen wrench at the same time. Jake's fingers brushed hers, callused and warm and achingly familiar. Hannah jerked back like she'd been burned, cracking her head on the bottom of the sink.
"Easy." Jake's hand caught her shoulder, steadying her. "Let me?—"
"I said I've got it." But she was dizzy now, the bump on her head throbbing in time with her pulse.
"Hannah." His voice softened. "At least let me look at?—"
"No." She shrugged off his hand, ignoring the way her skin tingled where he'd touched her. "I don't need you to fix anything."
Jake was quiet for a moment. Then: "Your technique was perfect."
She stilled. "What?"
"With the wrench. The angle, the pressure—exactly how I showed you." There was something raw in his voice. "You were paying attention."
"Of course I was paying attention." Hannah swallowed hard. "I trusted you back then."
The words hung between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Jake shifted closer, reaching past her for the replacement coupling. His arm brushed her side, and her breath caught at the contact.
"Hannah." Her name was barely a whisper.
She turned her head, ready to tell him to back off, to leave, to stop making her feel like this. But he was right there, his face inches from hers, his eyes dark with something that made her stomach flip.
A drop of water fell from her hair, landing on his arm. Jake's hand tightened on the pipe, his knuckles going white.
"You're soaked," he said roughly.
"It's just water."
"It's freezing."
"I'm fine."
His free hand came up, brushing wet hair from her face. The gesture was so achingly familiar that Hannah had to close her eyes.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't touch me like you still have the right to."
His hand dropped immediately. But he didn't move away. "The coupling," he said after a moment, voice carefully neutral. "Do you want me to?—"
"No." Hannah opened her eyes, forced herself to meet his gaze. "I need to do this myself."
Something flickered across his face—pride or pain or both. Then he nodded once and stood, backing away.
"If you need anything?—"
"I won't."
Jake paused at the kitchen door. "Your form really was perfect," he said quietly. Then he was gone, boots echoing across the floor, bell chiming as he left.
Hannah let out a shaky breath and turned back to the pipes. Her hands weren't quite steady as she reached for the wrench, but they'd do.
She didn't need him.
She didn't want him.
