“I was thinking more like grilled cheese and tomato soup,” he said, standing and offering his hand. “But if that’s all it takes…”
Jules took his hand and let Keaton pull them to their feet. “Depends. Are we talking real cheese or that suspicious orange stuff in the plastic wrap?”
Keaton gave them a look that was both exasperated and fond. “I may not be in the running for a cooking show, but even I have standards. What kind of monster do you take me for?”
“I don’t know,” Jules teased, following him into the kitchen. “You’re still kind of a mystery, Mr. Anderson.”
Keaton glanced over his shoulder, a smile playing at his lips. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of late nights ahead of us.”
Jules’s heart did a slow, hopeful flip. “Sounds good to me.”
They didn’t need a perfect plan. Just a starting point. And this felt like the beginning of something worth holding on to.
NINE
Keaton arrived at the site before the crew. Not uncommon. He parked the truck at the far end of the lot—the one spot that didn’t look like it might swallow his tires whole—and stepped into the still-cool morning air, making a mental note to at least get some gravel in here until they were ready to repave the parking lot. The building loomed before him, tired and forgotten, its weathered brick façade catching the light with a kind of stubborn dignity.
He stared at the structure for a long beat, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other. This place wasn’t just a project. It was a promise to himself, to his dad, to the town. He remembered when it was alive with tenants when he was a kid. One of his friends had lived on the second floor at the end of the hall. But then, the factory in town closed, and the families moved on, hoping to find a way to support themselves. Eventually, enough apartments were vacated that the property management company simply forgot about it and let it fall into a state of disrepair. After that, it wasn’t long before the city proclaimed the building unfit for living.
The old apartment building had sat empty for years, but Keaton saw potential behind the cracked stucco and boarded-up windows. He’d sunk a ridiculous amount of money—and more time than he’d admit—into the purchase. Not because he needed another job, but because he wanted to build something for his future, something to bring new blood into town through affordable housing options. Something solid.
If he could pull this off, it might finally feel like he was building toward something more permanent than punch lists and seasonal contracts. Sure, the projects he worked on were all around town, but this was different. This was his way of giving back to the community that had done so much for him over the years.
He took a sip of coffee and tapped through his checklist, already mentally shuffling the order of the day. The foundation crew was scheduled to start at eight. His heating and cooling guy would be here by nine to do a walk-through. And somewhere in between, he needed to double-check that all the permits were in order so work could begin. And it was about damned time. Between condition reports coming back worse than he’d anticipated and delays in pulling the permits, Keaton was starting to feel like he’d made a colossal mistake.
The sound of tires crunching gravel drew his attention. Finn’s car rolled in, followed by Luke’s, and then the slow trickle of subcontractors and employees.
“Morning, boss,” Finn called, hopping out and stretching like he hadn’t already been up for hours. He’d beaten Keaton into the office every day for the past month, and every day he acted sketchy, shutting his laptop before Keaton reached the front office. Something was definitely going on. If he didn’t trust Finn with his life, he’d have been worried.
“Barely,” Keaton muttered, glancing at the time. “We’re already behind. Did you bring the permits?”
Finn rolled his eyes and pulled out a manila envelope. “Oh ye of little faith. Of course. I knew you’d blow a gasket if they weren’t here before the contractors.”
“Thanks.” Keaton had been more stressed over this project than any other he could remember. He chalked it up to needing these units to turn out nice without going over budget. “And I’ll apologize ahead of time if I get snappy. I slept for shit last night thinking about everything we need to get done. The timetable is tighter than I’d like.”
Luke strolled over, sunglasses perched on his head and coffee from Sweet & Simple in hand. “You’re always pissy on big jobs. You thrive on stress. Don’t pretend otherwise.”
Keaton didn’t bother replying. Mostly because it was true.
He ran through the morning huddle with the crew, assigning tasks and flagging an issue he’d noticed in the back corner. It wasn’t major—probably just a settling crack—but he wanted it documented. They couldn’t afford surprises later.
While the team dispersed, Keaton stayed behind with the foundation lead, walking the perimeter to discuss everything that needed to be reinforced. That’s when he caught part of a conversation drifting over from a couple of the younger guys on break.
“…bet Anderson doesn’t even date. Probably goes home and jerks off thinking about perfectly square corners.”
Laughter.
“Yeah, he’s like…married to the job. Doubt he’ll ever settle down.”
Keaton didn’t flinch, but his jaw tightened. Not because it was mean—honestly, it was tame compared to some of the ribbing he’d taken over the years from his friends—but because it rang too close to something he didn’t want to name. Something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind since the night he kissed Jules.
Was this who he was? The guy everyone assumed lived alone and thought about nothing but work? The guy who couldn’t make space for anything—or anyone—that didn’t come with a calendar reminder?
He didn’t want to care what his employees thought. But the words still stuck like sawdust in his throat. He reminded himself they were practically still kids. They didn’t yet understand what it was like to live in the shadow of the town’s most respected businesspeople. Even Luke and Finn didn’t fully comprehend the pressure he felt weighing him down every single day.
Later, when deliveries started showing up out of order and the HVAC guy called to say he’d be three hours late, Keaton barely noticed the rising tempers around him. He kept moving, kept coordinating, kept solving.
But he also kept checking his phone, like his body knew what it was waiting for even if his brain refused to admit it.
