“Want to move forward?”
“It’s a great offer,” I say. “But I need to sleep on it, look at what finishes will cost.”
Bennet nods. “Of course. Let me know by end of day tomorrow. My crew’s ready. I am also happy to meet you at the hardware store on your lunch break, walk you through some flooring options.”
“Thanks, Bennet. I appreciate you.”
He heads back to his truck, and I stay behind for a minute longer, looking out at the river, the trees, the dream I’m not going to give up on—whether Sam is part of it or not.
7
SAM
Ifeel like I just shut my eyes when my alarm buzzes, cruel and insistent. My head’s pounding, not from a hangover but from everything I read last night. I rushed through three of Becca’s startup books. I wanted to fit months of planning into one frantic evening. Half the stuff was over my head. The rest sounded vaguely familiar.
I lean against the bathroom counter, brushing my teeth and staring at my own tired eyes. And like some kind of torture, my brain offers up a memory of her reading one of the same books from last night.
We are lying in bed; her hair is still wet from the shower and she’s wearing that oversized Oregon Ducks shirt she stole from me and those threadbare sleep shorts that barely cover anything. She has one of her books propped up against her thighs, flipping through it like it’s the Bible.
“Sam,” she says, pointing at a chart, “if we price at a breakeven for year one and build customer loyalty through seasonal packages?—”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, sliding her book down enough to see the curve of her hip.
“Are you even listening?” she asks, fighting a smile.
“Not to the numbers,” I say honestly. “But I am thinking about return on investment.”
She snorts. “That’s not how ROI works.”
“Sure it is. I invest in loving you—” I hook my thumbs into her waistband and start tugging slowly—“and I get very good returns.”
“Sam—”
I kiss her. Lower. She doesn't finish her sentence.
I shake the memory off like water, spit into the sink, and stare at the man in the mirror. Do I even get to hope for more moments like that?
Becca always had the vision. She was the planner and strategist. She had a five-year roadmap and a budget spreadsheet that updated in real time. I’ve always been the builder, give me a blueprint and a toolbelt and I’ll make it happen.
But this time? Ishreddedher blueprint without even a damn conversation.
Why didn't I bring her in? I know she would not have wanted to invest, but we could have talked through it. She could have met Rick, done her research to feel comfortable, maybe come to some compromise.
Now there’s no going back. No Band-Aid big enough. If Holly’s salon doesn’t succeed, I’ve not only gambled away our savings, I’ve burned down our future.
I didn’t worry about these kinds of things with Hughes Construction. I inherited a thriving business. Granddad did the grind during the lean years, Dad cleaned up the contracts with iron-clad legalese, and I stepped into something built and shaped by their sweat.
I’ve done good work. I pushed into commercial builds, brought in new vendors, but no one sees that. They see the Hughes name and assume I’m coasting. Even the cabinproject Becca dreamed up, yeah, I was on board, but it’shervision. Her research. Her pitch deck that my dad actually complimented.
She’s the lightning. I’m just holding the wire.
So when Holly came to me with the salon idea, when she said Rick Saunders had a line on a property, that she neededme—it felt like maybe I had something that was mine to grow. No Dad. No Granddad. No Becca.
Helping Holly, yes. But also proving something to them, to Rick, and maybe to myself. That I’m not Hughes's lucky son, or Grandad’s golden boy grandson. That I can be a part of building something from the ground up too.
I love my business, I do. And I know I do good work. I am so damn lucky to have been given the start I did. But sometimes being told howluckyI am to have this feels like being told I didn’t earn anything at all.
I answer a few emails, call into the job site we’re wrapping this week, and skim our forecasts. It'll be tight shifting the crew to help on the salon, but I can float them for a bit if we get moving fast.
