Evan nodded slowly, like I'd passed some kind of test. “Dad says the same thing about the pack house. Says his great-grandfather built it to last, and everything since has just been maintenance.”
“Smart man, your great-grandfather.”
“Stubborn, mostly. But I guess that's the same thing sometimes.” Evan stood, brushed off his jeans. “Now. Those window frames are a disaster. Let me help before you nail something to the wrong wall.”
“I know how to install window frames.”
“You know how to install crooked window frames.” He grabbed the hammer from my workbench, tested its weight. “I've been working construction with the pack since I was sixteen. Trust me.”
“Bossy.”
“Genetic.”
We worked for another hour. The conversation drifted, easy and unforced.
The sound of tires on gravel pulled me from the work that we have been doing. Through the window, I watched Nate's truck pull up, another figure visible in the passenger seat.
“Reinforcements,” Evan observed, already heading for the door.
Nate climbed out first, all easy grace and that smile that lit up his whole face. The passenger door opened slower, and Rafe emerged looking uncertain, like he wasn't quite sure he was allowed to be here.
“Dad!” Nate called, bounding up the porch steps. “We come bearing gifts.”
“If it's more sandwiches, Evan already fed me.”
“Better than sandwiches.” Nate jerked a thumb toward Rafe. “Extra hands. Daniel thought Rafe could use some time away from pack stuff, and I figured what's more relaxing than watching my dad struggle with home improvement?”
“I'm not struggling.”
“You installed crooked window frames,” Evan said.
“One crooked frame.”
“Three,” Evan corrected. “I counted.”
Rafe had made it to the porch now, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes tracking over the house with that cataloging awareness all the wolves seemed to share. Up close, he looked younger than I'd thought. Early thirties, maybe, but with eyes that had seen too much.
“Michael,” he said quietly. “Thanks for letting me come.”
“Of course.” I stepped back, gestured them inside. “Fair warning, I'm apparently terrible at everything, so prepare to be underwhelmed.”
“That's not true,” Nate said loyally.
“You haven't seen the electrical work,” Evan muttered.
Inside, Rafe's eyes went wide. He turned slowly, taking in the new drywall, the fresh flooring, the window frames Evan had fixed.
“You did all this yourself?” he asked.
“Most of it. Evan's been helping with the parts I'm apparently too incompetent to handle.”
“The electrical work,” Evan said. “And the plumbing. And the framing. And?—“
“We get it,” I cut him off. “I'm useless.”
“Not useless,” Nate said, examining the workbench. “Just... charmingly out of your depth.”
“I raised you better than this.”
