Every secret needs someone to appreciate it.
Luke stared at the words until his vision blurred. Then, deliberately, he set his phone face-down on the counter. He couldn’t do this. Wouldn’t do this. He had a job to do, cabinets to restore, a house to fix.
That’s all it was. All it could be.
If he repeated it enough times, maybe he’d even believe it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rain peltedthe Tillerman’s windows as Luke gathered his tools, trying to wrap up for the night. Thunder rattled the expensive new fixtures the owner had insisted on, and Luke couldn’t help comparing them to the worn but solid hardware in Noah’s house. He should’ve been home hours ago, but he was trying to get ahead of schedule here so he didn’t have to work overtime next week, once the first round of supplies for Noah’s house came in.
When Keaton called earlier, asking him to stop by and make sure everything was tarped before the evening’s storms, it had seemed like a great time to go over the week’s progress and make notes without the guys on the crew bugging the shit out of him.
His phone buzzed—probably Keaton checking on storm preparations—but when he glanced at the screen, Noah’s name flashed instead.
Luke’s stomach dropped. Noah never called this late. Hell, Noah never called. It had always been Luke initiating contact.
“Hey, what’s?—”
“Luke.” Noah’s voice cracked with panic. “There’s water coming through the ceiling. Everywhere. I’ve got buckets, but—” A crash in the background, followed by Eli’s voice yelling something about indoor waterfalls. “Shit. The dining room ceiling just started…”
That wasn’t good at all. The dining room was the only room on the first floor without anything above it. Luke had already planned on pulling everything down to the studs, but they’d planned to hold off on that project until after the kitchen was completed.
“I’m on my way.” Luke was already moving, shoving supplies into his emergency kit. “Try to move as much as you can into a different room, get tarps over anything important you can’t move, and?—”
“Luke?” Noah’s voice pulled him back. “I know it’s late, and you probably have other?—”
Another crash, this one followed by a shriek from Eli. Luke couldn’t tell if the boy was scared or excited about the destruction in the way only little boys could be.
“I’m already in my truck,” Luke said, which wasn’t quite true but would be in about thirty seconds. “Ten minutes, tops. Just…try to keep Eli away from the worst of it.”
The drive to Noah’s seemed endless. Luke hit both red lights in town, his windshield wipers fighting a losing battle against the deluge. He tried not to think about water damage, about the potential structural damage, about all the ways this storm could turn Noah’s dream house into an uninhabitable nightmare.
He really tried not to think about how quickly he’d dropped everything at the sound of panic in Noah’s voice. How it hadnothing to do with the old home being a dream project for him and everything to do with wanting Noah to understand he could count on Luke.
The house’s turrets loomed against the storm-dark sky, its windows glowing like worried eyes. Luke barely remembered to grab his tool bag before sprinting through the rain, taking the slick porch steps two at a time, praying he didn’t fall and break his neck.
The door flew open before he could knock. Noah stood in the entrance, water dripping from his hair, his usually pristine button-down clinging to his shoulders. “Thank god. Chunks of the dining room ceiling keep falling. Pretty soon, there’ll be nothing left of it, and we’ll have an indoor pool.”
“Dad! Mr. Luke!” Eli appeared behind his father, practically vibrating with excitement. “The house is making waterfalls! Is this what you meant about houses having secrets?”
“Not exactly, buddy.” Luke stepped inside, assessing the damage. Water streamed down the walls in inelegant rivulets, turning the ancient wallpaper into wet tissue. The ceiling’s water stains had transformed into active leaks, creating an indoor weather system that would have been fascinating if it wasn’t so catastrophic. “Where’s the worst of it?”
“Upstairs first,” Noah decided, already leading the way. “I don’t care about the dining room, but there’s no way Eli can sleep in his room the way it is. I’m just hoping I got the mattress and box spring out of there quick enough they won’t get moldy.”
“My bathroom’s a splash pad!” Eli bounced along behind them. “Can we get a waterslide if it gets deeper?”
Despite everything, Luke had to bite back a smile. Trust a six-year-old to find adventure in disaster. But Noah’s expression was pure anguish as they reached the second floor, and Luke’s amusement evaporated. “Yeah, so the half-bath is pretty bad too.”
While splash pad might have been an exaggeration, the bathroom floor was indeed flooded. Water cascaded from a massive crack in the ceiling, saturating the floor. The overflow had found every weakness in the floor, creating a network of leaks that threatened the rooms below.
“Eli,” Luke said, keeping his voice steady, “I need your help. Remember how we talked about documenting everything?”
Eli’s eyes lit up. “The disaster map!”
“Exactly. Think you can add all the new leaks? It’s super important we know where everything is.” As much as he liked the kid, his dad looked about ready to lose his shit. When that happened—not if—Luke wanted Eli out of earshot.
“On it!” Eli darted off, presumably to fetch his prized notebook.
