Chapter 10
Dean
The drawer sticks again.
I brace one hand against the counter and yank, harder this time, and it finally gives with a groan. Inside: a mess of screwdrivers, mismatched nails, a handful of old receipts I should’ve thrown out two years ago. No idea how I let her talk me into organizing it.
Harper hums behind me, arranging the spice cabinet like it’s her job. “You keep your flathead screwdrivers next to the cinnamon. That’s bold.”
“It’s temporary.”
“So’s your filing system, apparently.” She holds up a crumpled receipt. “You bought a gallon of wood glue in 2021?”
“I had plans.”
“You and Boris have a lot in common,” she says, smiling softly as she leans against the kitchen counter. “Stubborn, a little broken, still trying to be useful.”
I grunt, even though her words hit closer than they should. She’s been here over a week now. Long enough to rearrange half my kitchen, fill the cabin with her humming and her ridiculous coffee orders, and wedge herself so neatly into my days that the thought of her leaving makes my chest go tight.
“Need help?” she asks.
“No.”
She comes over anyway.
Kneeling beside me, she rests her hand lightly on my arm. “I can sort. You can grunt and do the heavy lifting.”
It’s easier to let her than to argue. We sit side by side on the wood floor, Harper cross-legged in her fuzzy socks, making neat piles of tools while I pretend I’m not painfully aware of how close she is.
She picks up an old, battered multi-tool. “This one looks like it’s been through hell.”
I take it from her, running a thumb over the scratched metal casing. “It has.”
She doesn’t ask. Just watches me, quiet, like she knows if she stays still long enough, I’ll start talking.
“I used to carry this every day,” I hear myself say. “When I was with the crew.”
“Fire department?”
I nod once. “Missoula Hotshots. Forest service unit. We did wildfire suppression all over the Northwest.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Ten-man team. Summers were long. Heat, smoke, no sleep, living out of a pack. But it made sense to me. Kept my hands busy. Gave me rules. Noise. Until… there was a fire that got away from us. I lost several on my team that day. And then, it wasn’t for me anymore.”
I don’t mention the names. The mistake I still see in my sleep. The sound of trees going up like matchsticks.
Harper’s quiet for a moment. Then she sets the tool down gently and covers my hand with hers.
“You’re not doing nothing here, Dean,” she says softly. “Just so you know.”
The words shouldn’t land so hard. But they do.
I don’t say thank you. Don’t know if I could get the words out even if I wanted to.
So instead, I stand and reach into the back of the cabinet, pulling out a small, flat box.
“Thought this got lost a long time ago.” I flip the lid and hold it out to her.
