The question caught me off guard, lodging somewhere between my ribs. I’d spent three years convincing myself I was better off alone than being married to someone who couldn’t make me a priority. Three years building a life without him, running my diner, finding my own rhythm. Three years telling myself that I didn’t miss him.
But one dinner, one kiss, and I was questioning everything.
“Earth to Pepper.” Jess waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re thinking so loud I can practically hear it.”
I shook my head, setting down the coffeepot before I spilled it. “Just wondering what he’s up to.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said with a shrug. “Ask him.”
As if it were that simple. As if I could just walk up to the man who’d broken my heart and ask if fixing my porch meant he wanted me back. As if I even knew what answer I was hoping for.
No, that was a lie.
I wanted more. More time with him. More kisses. More heat.
But I’d had more with him once, and it hadn’t been enough. The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. I could want more from him. I was only human, and I had so much history with Rhett MacAvoy. But actually pursuing more would be a sign of epic stupidity. Him doing one nice thing to make amends didn’t mean he’d changed. All his good intentions would fly out the window as soon as he was back on duty, and he’d break my heart all over again.
I just had to remember that.
Eleven
Rhett
Sometime overnight, I’d managed to convince myself that the porch wasn’t as bad as I remembered. Standing beside Gabe Bishop, I could practically feel the whole structure groaning beneath our feet. The early morning sun cast long shadows across the weathered boards, making every crack and splinter stand out in stark relief.
“Well?” I tried not to sound as anxious as I felt. “What’s the verdict?”
Gabe crouched down, his contractor’s eyes taking in details I’d missed with my casual inspection. He pried loose a section of warped board with disturbing ease, and I winced at the hollow sound it made. The wood practically crumbled in his hands, looking more like damp cardboard than lumber.
“Whoever built this didn’t know what the hell they were doing.” He pointed underneath, and I leaned over to look, already dreading what I’d see. “See that? Footings weren’t set in concrete. They’re just sitting on dirt.” The sight made my firefighter instincts scream—this was exactly the kind of structural weakness that could get someone hurt. How had I missed this?
“Shit.” I ran a hand through my hair, calculating the cost in my head and not liking the numbers I was coming up with. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Gabe stood, brushing his hands on his jeans. A splinter fell from his palm, joining its brethren on the decaying boards. “Those joists are rotted through. This isn’t a repair job, MacAvoy. Most of this porch needs to be rebuilt from the ground up.”
My stomach sank. This wasn’t just a weekend project to make things right with Pepper. This was serious structural work. Which was fitting, somehow. Our marriage wouldn’t be fixed with a simple weekend of work, either. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if it could be fixed at all, but I had to try. After everything that had happened, I owed her that much.
“The roof portion’s salvageable,” Gabe continued, tapping the overhang. “But everything else? You’re looking at new footings, joists, decking, railings—the works.” He knocked his knuckles against one of the support posts, and I swear I heard it creak in protest.
“How long would something like that take?” I tried to keep the desperation out of my voice, but failed miserably.
“Depends. You helping or just supervising?” A hint of amusement crept into his voice. Trust Bishop to find humor in my misery.
“Very funny. My shoulder’s not that bad.” I rotated it slightly. There was barely the faintest twinge of pain, though the memory of how I’d injured it still made me wince. “I’ve been cleared for most stuff. Just not full duty at the fire station. I can certainly swing a hammer.” The forced inactivity was already driving me crazy—I needed something productive to do with my hands.
Gabe gave me a skeptical look, the kind I’d been getting too much of lately. “Two weeks, maybe three. Need to dig out those old footings, pour concrete, let it cure. Can’t rush that part.” He paused, squinting at the shadows under the porch. “And that’s assuming we don’t find any more surprises once we start digging.”
I nodded, mentally calculating how to fit this around my other commitments. I could make it work. Had to.
Gabe studied my face with that contractor’s squint of his. “You know, I could handle this for you. My schedule’s pretty open right now since I finished the repairs on Felicity’s house.”
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “I need to do this myself. I promised Pepper.” And a promise to her meant everything these days, especially given our history.
“This about more than just a porch?”
I stared at the sagging porch, remembering her face when I’d offered to fix them. The surprise. The hesitation. The way she’d finally said yes, like she was afraid to hope. Like she was afraid to trust me again. My chest ached just thinking about it.
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s about a lot more than just a porch.”
