Not choosing one version of myself over the other.
Finally letting them coexist.
I grabbed the receipt off the windshield and slid into the driver’s seat.
Two days of work.
A ramp.
A shower.
A plan.
And for the first time since the phone rang at my desk, the math worked out.
Money problem: handled.
Now all I had to do was survive the weekend — and figure out whether the girl who’d blown into my life like a summer storm would still be there when I came back up for air.
CHAPTER 3
ETHAN
By midmorning,the bathroom was a war zone.
Gone were the designer clothes, the pressed chinos, the polished version of myself I wore Monday through Friday like armor.
I’d dug through my old room and found a pair of faded jeans shoved into the back of the closet, knees already worn thin. They still fit. A plain white T-shirt clung to my shoulders, already dusted with drywall powder. Heavy work boots I’d left in the garage years ago — scuffed, solid, familiar — laced tight around my ankles.
I slid on the goggles, pushed my hair back, and turned the radio up.
Classic rock crackled through the speakers. Loud. Imperfect. The way it used to sound blasting out of a garage with the door half open and the neighbors pissed off.
Heaven.
I wrapped my fingers around the crowbar and drove it into the seam where the old tub met the wall. Porcelain protested with a sharp crack, then another. Tile shattered. Dust bloomed into the air.
My arms burned almost immediately.
Good.
Each swing loosened something in me. Each crack felt earned.
I thought about Sage — the way she’d looked at my hands, like she’d already decided something about me. The roughness. The calluses I’d never quite managed to sand away no matter how many spreadsheets I touched.
Next time I see her,I thought, levering another chunk of tile free,I’ll have a few more.
The work was honest. Simple in the best way. Break, clear, measure, rebuild.
No politics.
No posturing.
No pretending.
Sweat rolled down my spine. My palms roughened further, skin already tender where new blisters threatened.
Somewhere behind me, the screen door creaked.
