“Four feet,” he says flatly.
“That’s what I said.”
He points at the corner. “Go get your pencil.”
“I have my pencil.”
“Then go use it over there.”
“You’re sending me to the corner?”
“Yes, I’m sending you to the corner.” He makes a small shooing motion and laughs. “Go. Mark over there.”
I go, mostly because I’m laughing too hard to argue. When I look back, he’s shaking his head, but his shoulders are moving.
We get into a rhythm after that. I handle the chalk lines, and he manages the cuts, and somewhere in the middle of it,we stop being polite, and things go back to how they were before the tension, before the exaggerated manners and careful housemates, and back to the playful friends we once were.
He leans across me to check a joist near the vanity wall, one hand bracing close to mine on the floor, his arm brushing my shoulder on the way. I go very still and try to focus on the joists. He checks the joist, and when he straightens, there’s a glint in his eyes that tells me he is not fooled.
He’s teasing me. A part of me is almost miffed. I’ve tried to play it careful and cool, not to push, but now that I know what he’s doing, I wonder if I could tease too.
Twenty minutes later, I’m backing up to measure the space between the joists when the cord of the drill catches my heel. I’m balancing on the edge of a two-by-four when I trip.
I fly backward, and Bo catches me around my waist. I end up with my back against his chest, his arms around me, both of us completely frozen before I belt out a laugh so hard I’m wheezing, and then laugh even harder when I accidentally snort.
“You’re a disaster, you know that?” Bo asks, holding me to keep me from rolling on the floor. “I don’t remember you being like this.”
“You and Tyler were in a world of your own. Besides, how would you know? You were dating a new girl every fifteen minutes.” Bo goes still for a moment, then changes the subject, and I instantly regret saying it. It was supposed to be a little funny, but it bothered him nonetheless.
“You okay?” he asks. Low. Close to my ear.
“Yes. Fine, thanks,” I say, catching my breath. “Tripped.”
“I see that.”
I should step forward. I’m aware of this. I stay exactly where I am and tip my head back slightly instead, and I feel him exhale.
“Falon.” His arms are still around me. His voice deepens.
“Yeah?” I hear an intake of breath, like he’s going to say something.
Instead, his arms tighten, just for a second, and then he says, “You’re making this really hard.”
The words land softly but seriously. And just like that, I can hear the war within him. Want and discipline are battling for control. I turn in his arms, slowly, and look up at him.
Something moves through his expression. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
I hold his gaze. “I think I do.” I pause. “More than you know.” I could tell he was running through his head, dusting off files and moments we’ve shared over the last few months.
Bo’s jaw tightens. He looks at me for a long moment. I can see he is trying to figure out what I mean, and then he steps back. His hands drop from my waist slowly.
He hands me the measuring tape. “Measure the far wall.” I shake my head.
“Tell me about the promise.” I counter by keeping my emotions in check. Oh, I was angry, but I was mostly upset that he was choosing a promise to Tyler over me. Was brotherhood really more important than love? Than me?
There was a long pause. His eyes soften, and pain and worry fill them.
“It’s not what you think,” he forces out.
