“So, about that dining room table and two nightstands,” Tanner said, as he began eating.
Lance mentally sifted through a few possible arguments he could make to eliminate the money issue. But before he could say anything, Tanner launched into his plans to finish all of Lance’s half-assed work. “I know I don’t look like I can do much on my own, but I’m actually pretty handy to have around for minor repairs. I should be cleared by my doctor next week to use my left arm again for simple tasks. I could definitely help with some of your projects, like putting up pictures and doing some painting.”
On the one hand, Lance wanted to say yes, since these projects took a lot more time to complete than he’d originally planned. On the other hand, he’d really wanted to learn how to do everything by himself so that maybe one day he could teach his kids, which was something his dad had never done for him.
“Okay, but under one condition,” he said resolutely, pointing his knife at Tanner, who was smirking at him, confident he’d win this round. “Teach me how to do stuff while we’re finishing the projects. I want to learn how to fix up a house. My dad was never around to teach me things like that, and I hate YouTube tutorials.”
Tanner laughed and nodded in agreement. “Sure, I can do that. My old man taught me a lot of things about home maintenance. He had the patience of a saint.”
“He passed away?”
Tanner gave a slow nod. “Yeah, from a heart attack, while I was gone.”
“Shit,” Lance said in a knee jerk reaction. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Must have hit hard when you got back. You were probably hoping to spend time with him and catch up on everything you’d missed.”
“Thanks,” Tanner said, tugging at the label on his bottle again. “And yeah—it—it messed me up for sure. I think that was the hardest part about coming home. I knew there would be stuff that happened over those three years, even little things like—fucking Walmart moving into the space where K-Mart used to be. Or seeing how my niece Clara isn’t in diapers anymore, and Lucy wasn’t even born when I left. And then finding out about my dad—” he swallowed hard. “I don’t really know how to explain it, but I was so obsessed with making it back, for so fucking long, that I never really stopped to think that lots of things wouldn’t be exactly the same when I got back. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but—” He ducked his head self-consciously.
“No, you make a good point. I see what you mean,” Lance said reassuringly. “I suppose when you focus primarily on just trying to survive, everything else in everyday life is an afterthought.”
Tanner looked at him in amazement.
“Yeah—” he said, nodding slowly. “Exactly.”
Lance recalled the downtrodden guy he’d met just yesterday. He’d been so grey, so defeated. The guy sitting across from him now was entirely different. Bright hazel eyes filled with lively interest and good humor, looking at him as if he hung the moon. With his hair swept back, like he’d attempted to tame its unruliness, he projected maturity and self-confidence today. His tattoos were still visible around the collar of his shirt, snakingup the side of his neck, but he didn’t look quite so—grunge. The smile certainly helped to lighten his appearance.
Lance wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other, both lost in thought, but Tanner finally broke the spell by picking up his fork to tackle the remainder of his dinner. Lance mentally patted himself on the back for having come up with the idea of dinner and a tour, as this was just the ticket to help Tanner and get his house whipped into shape. Win-win, baby!
“So, Mr. Fix-it, it’s a deal then. You can have whatever furniture you want from Julie’s Junk Room and in exchange we begin laying the groundwork for a new TV series called This Half-Done House.”
Tanner snorted at Lance. Looking up from his plate, hazel eyes alight with mischief, he declared, “Lights, camera, action!” with an added jazz hand for effect. “This dinner is excellent, by the way. It deserves five stars for sure,” Tanner said, as he finished his salad.
“Glad you enjoyed it because I intend to force you to eat loads more of my Michelin restaurant cuisine. I definitely need you to bulk up a bit if you’re gonna fix my house.”
Tanner rolled his eyes but finished every bite on his plate and the sight pleased Lance far more than he cared to admit.
Feeding Tanner made him feel fulfilled in a way he’d missed more than he’d realized until now. Taking care of others had been such a big part of his upbringing that it was now coded into his DNA. He felt it again with Tanner. He wanted to make him smile. Wanted to feed him. Just like when he used to watch Parker demolish the breakfasts he always made for him before school, or when he sat in the stands and saw him score his first ever touchdown. That sense of satisfaction was one and the same.
It was exactly the same, he told himself. Except now there was something distinctly new to add to how he felt that hademerged sometime in the past two days. A kind of steady hum or buzz in his gut that was gaining strength with every hour he spent with Tanner.
Not a bad thing—just—new.
Chapter 4
By the time Tanner got home that night, stuffed with a great meal, he felt happier than he had in years. Even though quality sleep remained elusive, the following morning he’d woken up smiling and ready to face the day for once. That had to count for something.
Well—he’d thought he’d been ready for the day, but the damned doorbell rang at 7:00 a.m. Forced to get up from his perfectly comfortable spot on the couch, he was surprised to see his twin sister walking through the front door. Instant dread settled over him. He should have known leaving her questions unanswered the day before would be all the provocation she needed to hunt his ass down. The only silver lining he could see, and the only reason he didn’t yell at her to get the fuck out, was that she’d brought goodies. In one hand, a tray of coffee cups, and in the other, a box of pastries. Sighing in annoyance and resignation, he limped towards the kitchen, ignoring the burning pain in his left leg. The heels of her boots were obnoxiously loud on his bare floors as she trailed after him.
“Is your leg feeling worse?” Cameron asked, entering the kitchen. “Is the pain increasing? Your doctor said that—”
“Coffee, Cam. Have mercy! Hand over the damned coffee before interrogating me,” he groaned, unable to hide his irritation, especially before his first dose of caffeine. Jumping all over his ass like this before his first cup of joe was criminal, and she should know better.
Cameron huffed, handing over his cup. It wasn’t hard to tell which was his. Hers had whipped cream oozing from the top. He liked his coffee with just a splash of milk. Whipped cream was a dessert thing. Not a coffee thing.
“I thought you might be a bit more agreeable since you got laid last night,” she said, as she flipped open the lid on the box of pastries. Tanner ignored her completely in favor of choosing a chocolate glazed doughnut.
“Oh, come on,” Cameron snapped impatiently. “You’re not going to tell me about Ms. 1215 Larry Drive?”
At that Tanner’s head snapped up, half a doughnut hanging out of his mouth. How the fuck had she known that?
