Placing it on the ground, I turn to her. “You okay?”
“Always.”
After that, we move around together too easily. I hold thecrowbar out behind me without looking, and she takes it. She ducks under my arm instead of asking me to move. At one point, she backs into me while tugging at a stubborn nail, and I brace her with both hands on her hips without thinking.
The banter’s still there between us, but it’s muted now.
It’s less jokes for the sake of noise, and more small touches that feel intentional even when we don’t acknowledge them.
When I move to tackle the water-stained ceiling, I climb the ladder. It’s a feeling of déjà vu, except things are different between us now. She’s not hovering, just there. When a chunk finally gives way, she startles and her hands fly to my calves to steady me.
“Careful,” she teases. “If this falls on you, I’ll have to find another contractor.”
I glance down at her because she’s definitely said this before. “And you’d miss me.”
“Obviously.”
I’m staring into her eyes, feeling a stab to my chest with feelings. Ones I’ve never allowed myself to have that keep coming back more and more with Scottie. Every look and every quiet moment between us chips away at the rules I built to survive. This isn’t lust anymore. It’s the kind of feeling that asks you to stay when your instinct is to run.
I should look away.
I should break the moment or crack a joke before I say something I can’t take back.
The crack of plaster over my head cuts through my thoughts instead. Scottie’s eyes go wide, and I cover my head to brace for impact. Dust rains down around me in a gray cloud.
“Scottie!” I shout, flying off the ladder to get to her.
She’s crouched down with her hands behind her neck to protect herself from the falling debris. I place my hand on her shoulder, hoping like hell she’s all right, because I won’t be able to live with myself if someone I lo?—
No. That’s not what this is.
I care about her.
Fuck.
“Scottie?” I ask, my voice softer this time.
She releases her hands from behind her, looking up and around at the mess. Her hair is covered in dust and drywall pieces, but she’s okay.
Thank god, she’s okay.
“I’m glad I trusted you,” she says, placing a shaky hand on my forearm. “If we didn’t gut this room, who knows when that would have fallen down.”
“Are you two okay?” Andrea says from the doorway. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the room. Scottie looks at Andrea, but my eyes are only on my girl. “I was downstairs and heard a crash. I thought that crazy lady was back, busting down walls.”
“We’re okay,” Scottie answers for us. “Looks like this room needs more work than I thought.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask Scottie in a low tone, not acknowledging that Andrea is still in the room. “You’re shaking.”
She nods. “Just shaken up. I didn’t expect the ceiling to give way like that.”
Reaching down, I pick up a larger piece of the ceiling that fell and toss it toward the door so Levi and the rest of the crew can discard it with what we’ve already removed.
When I turn around, Scottie is crouched down, picking something up.
I freeze when she gasps.
Unwrapping it carefully, I see her holding a wooden box, worn with age, before she opens it slowly. She pulls out a stack of papers that looks like a mixture of letters and photographs.
