“Assuming nothing catastrophic hits your budget, you’re okay,” Jason concluded. “I’ll give you a detailed quote once my engineer runs the structural calcs.”
“Thank you,” Hank said. “We appreciate you being straight with us.”
“Straight’s the only way I know how to be,” Jason said. “I’ll email the preliminary breakdown tonight. You three talk it over. If you decide to move forward, we’ll get the paperwork started.”
He headed back toward the stairs with Brian and Colby. Their voices drifted down as they started arguing about whether the shop’s logo should feature flames, a piston, or both.
Hank stayed where he was, next to Bree, letting the quiet settle.
“How’s it hitting you?” he asked.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. “Like standing on the edge of a canvas that’s too big,” she said. “My brain’s trying to fill it all at once, and I know that’s not how it works.”
“You start with one line,” he said. “Then another.”
She smiled faintly. “You say that like you’ve done it.”
“I’ve built a couple of things,” he said. “Teams. Bikes. A life or two.”
Her hand brushed his chest lightly, right over his heart. “You sure you want to build this one here?” she asked.
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
She looked up at him, eyes dark and serious. “Then we have to make it hard for anyone to knock it down.”
“That’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll layer the security in like primer. You’ll notice it when it’s going up; after that, it just becomes part of the walls.”
She nodded, but he could see the lingering shadow. Losing her sister had taught her that bad things did not bother with fair warning; they just happened and left holes.
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’re not helpless bystanders here. We have a capable police chief, a mayor who wants this to succeed, and a contractor who is honest. Plus three stubborn idiots who don’t know how to quit.”
“And one painter with questionable life choices,” she said.
He smiled. “Those are my favorite kind.”
Her gaze softened. “You keep being like this,” she said, “and I’m never going to find my rationality again.”
He leaned down and kissed her gently in the dusty sunlight, a promise rather than a diversion.
“They called this quiet aftermath,” he murmured against her mouth. “Feels more like the starting line to me.”
Chapter 17
Bree stood at the upstairs window and watched Jason’s truck pull away from the curb. Brian and Colby lingered on the sidewalk, still talking, their gestures big and animated. Hank leaned against the warehouse’s brick wall, arms folded, listening.
From this height, with the harbor spread out beyond them, they looked like pieces in a sketch she hadn’t finished.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Mom.
She hesitated only a second before answering. “Hey.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” her mom said. “We just left the cemetery. Your father insisted on telling your sister you’re talking about moving. As if she doesn’t already know.”
Bree’s throat tightened. “Thank you,” she said. “For telling her. I know…”
“I know it’s not how it works,” her mom finished. “We say it anyway.”
