“I’ll try, but I don’t think my charm comes with volume control.”
A throat clears behind me. I turn around to see Andrea behind the camera, pointing at her clipboard. “Back to the cabinets,” she whisper-shouts.
When I turn back to face Tucker, neither of us move. Because Tucker still has his eyes on me. He looks at me like he’s trying not to do something incredibly stupid.
And I’m looking at him like I might let him.
I’ve already fought this off once; if he tries again, I’m not sure I’ll be able to show the same restraint.
Before we can act on it, he steps away from me, clearing his throat as he picks up the cabinet that fell on my foot to toss it into the pile of other broken cabinets off to the side.
For the next half hour, we work in silence.
He removes all the upper cabinets, and I remove all the lower. By the time we finish taking them all off, there’s a pile in the corner of the kitchen that Tucker and his crew begin to take outside to the dumpster sitting at the top of the driveway.
Andrea comes up beside me. “This will be amazing when it’s done. You’re making good time despite the delays we’ve had.”
“I am?”
She nods. “Tucker’s crew has worked well together to get ahead on things in the rest of the house. We might be a day or two behind, but seeing them hustle today, I have no doubt we’ll catch up.”
“I hope you didn’t just jinx it.”
“I hope not either.” She laughs. “We’re going to film some mid-work content here in the kitchen with Tucker’s crew if you want to step out and grab a snack or take a break.”
“Perfect.”
Making my way through the house feels like a full construction zone at every step. Tools buzz in different rooms that need to be done but won’t be filmed, sawdust piles sit randomly throughout the first floor, and small, handheld tools are scattered everywhere. I didn’t notice how much had gotten done todaybecause I entered through the side door that leads directly to the kitchen when I got here.
When I step through the open front door, I feel like I can breathe again. The clouds still hide the sun, but I can feel it. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, letting the breeze cool the sweat caked on my skin. My muscles finally relax because out here, there are no cameras.
I open my eyes, exhaling slowly and ready to pull myself back together when something catches my eye to the left. I gasp and my hand flies to my chest. My other hand reaches out when I step closer and I run my fingers along the white wood finish of a swing on the front porch.
It’s the front porch swing I wanted but was told couldn’t happen.
When Tucker and his crew explained it to me, they went into detailed discussion about how the roof over the porch is very old. There was no way for it to support a swing that could hold two people. Lifting my eyes, I notice that the panels are all…new.
I feel tears sting my eyes and I fight back the emotions.
It shouldn’t feel this big. It’s just a porch swing—one small detail in a house full of bigger problems. But standing here staring at it, I realize it isn’t about the swing at all. It’s about the fact that someone heard me. I’ve spent so much of my life learning to compromise my vision and shrink my ideas into a box that’s easier to accept. It’s proof that sometimes, someone will meet me in the middle.
And there’s only one person who could have made this happen.
“Do you like it?” Tucker’s voice behind me forces me to spin around quickly.
I swipe at the tear that escaped and clear my throat. “Yes. Did you…”
He nods. “I know how much you wanted it. Part of my job is ensuring you get exactly what you want.”
“How? When?”
“Levi and I snuck over here a few times this past week when we had a break between the heavy rainstorms. The beams under the panels were a lot worse than I thought and the whole thing needed to be removed,” he says, looking up at the space above us. “I tried to make it look exactly the same as it was. Once we replaced them and checked that they were secure and safe, we attached it to that and put the panels in around it.”
“I…” My voice trails off, looking at the swing again. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”
“I didn’t do itforyou,” he says softly. “I did it because it matters to you.”
Dammit. My heart flips on itself, and everything I’ve tried to keep down settles on the surface. I don’t know what to say, becausethank youdoesn’t feel enough when he’s given me proof that my voice didn’t disappear into the air like it usually does. Proof that someone listened to what I wanted and acted when I wasn’t looking.
