“Yep,” Luke reassured him. “It’s going to require a lot of sweat equity to keep the costs down, but we’re going to set everything to rights. Trust me?”
“Not like I have much of a choice, is there?” Noah flinched at his own words. “I’m sorry, that was shitty of me to say. I’m just… This place was supposed to be a fresh start for Eli. I hoped that by moving back here, he wouldn’t be so upset about how often Jenna is gone or the fact I couldn’t stand the idea of raising him in the city.”
“And it will be.” Luke stepped closer, gripping Noah’s shoulder. “This is a setback for sure, but I’m not giving up. Are you?”
Noah squared his shoulders, looking directly into Luke’s gaze. “No. I have no clue what sort of miracle worker you are, but I’m not quitting.”
“Okay,” he said, pulling out his phone. “First, I’m going to call Keaton to see if he can get us some more plastic tarps and dehumidifiers. While Keaton and I work on covering the roof,you’ll work on getting up as much water as you can.” He met Noah’s gaze steadily. “Once the storm passes, we make a new plan. A real one, not just patchwork repairs. This house needs someone who understands its quirks, who can anticipate its needs. Someone who?—”
“Someone like you,” Noah finished quietly.
The words hung between them, heavy with implications. Luke should say no. Should recommend another contractor, someone without his complicated feelings and messy attraction. Should maintain a professional distance.
Instead, he said, “Yeah. Someone like me.”
Because the truth was, he was already in too deep. Had been since that first day, when Eli’s enthusiasm and Noah’s quiet determination had cracked something in Luke’s carefully constructed walls. The storm had just made it impossible to ignore.
“Mr. Luke?” Eli’s voice was smaller now, less excited. He cowered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, his feet safely on the kitchen’s linoleum. “You can fix it, right? You won’t let our house fall down?”
Luke looked at the kid who trusted him completely, at the man who’d called him for help when he was at his breaking point, at the house that seemed determined to bring them all together.
“No, buddy,” he said softly. “I won’t let your house fall down. Promise.”
Noah must have seen something in his expression because he asked, “You’re sure? This is… It’s a lot. More than we originallydiscussed. Eli’s going to have to sleep with me for a while. The dining room is destroyed?—”
“It’s going to be okay.” Luke managed a smile. “Some things are worth the extra effort. I’m going up to the attic so I can figure out where the water is coming from.”
“I’m coming with you,” Noah insisted. Luke turned to tell him he didn’t need to but the stern look on Noah’s face warned him this wasn’t up for discussion. For the sake of efficiency, Luke simply headed down the hall to the access panel.
The attic smelled of wet wood and old secrets. Every step had to be carefully placed—one wrong move, and they’d join the plaster currently decorating the bathroom floor.
“Watch that crossbeam,” Luke warned, reaching back to steady Noah as his foot slipped on rain-slick wood. “The previous owners’ repair work up here is…creative.”
“Creative how?” Noah’s voice was close behind him, warm breath ghosting across Luke’s neck.
Luke’s flashlight illuminated their answer—a patchwork of mismatched lumber held together with what appeared to be baling wire and optimism. “See where they spliced these supports? Amateur job. No proper joints, just… They basically created a funnel for water to collect. Any heavy rain, and it all channels right into your bathroom ceiling.”
“Shit.” Noah moved closer, his chest brushing Luke’s back as he leaned in to examine the damage. “How did the inspector miss this?”
“Bold of you to assume there was an inspection.” Luke tried to focus on the rotted wood instead of the way Noah’s proximitymade his skin prickle. “Most flippers cut corners wherever they can. But this…” He shifted his flashlight, revealing more jerry-rigged repairs. “This is beyond cutting corners. This is negligence. I assure you, we’ll be investigating how none of this was mentioned to you once we get the house back to rights.”
Luke would call in every favor he needed to because someone was going to pay for part of these damages. He wasn’t about to say as much to Noah, but part of him was beginning to wonder if the house shouldn’t have been condemned. It would have been a shame, but maybe that would have been the best solution for everyone.
Thunder rattled the roof, and Noah’s hand found Luke’s shoulder. Whether seeking balance or comfort, Luke couldn’t tell. Probably both.
“Can it be fixed?”
Such a simple question. Such a complicated answer.
“Yes,” Luke said finally. “But not quickly, and not cheaply. We’d need to—” His light caught something wedged between the rafters. “Hold up. What’s that?”
He pulled out a stack of letters neatly wrapped in frayed twine. Somehow, they’d managed to escape the deluge of water. Eli would love this.
Luke traced the wood grain with his fingers, remembering his father’s lessons about letting houses tell their stories. “See how the wood’s darker here? Water’s been getting in for years, but slowly. Recent repairs made it worse by trapping moisture instead of directing it out.”
He became aware that Noah was watching him, not the rafters. “What?”
“Nothing, just…” Noah’s voice was soft in the storm-muffled attic. “You really love this stuff, don’t you? Old houses, their stories.”
