Chapter 10

10

MERRITT

T he sharp rap of knuckles on the door dragged me out of a deep sleep. My eyes snapped open, and for one disoriented moment, I had no idea where I was. I looked around. The old floral wallpaper, the sagging ceiling—right. Dad’s house. My house now, I supposed.

The knock came again, louder this time, and it caused me to jump like a frightened deer. I tumbled off the shitty air mattress, landing on my hip with a groan.

I wiped the drool that had dribbled out while I slept like the dead. Last night had been one of best nights of sleep I had in over a week. Exhaustion had taken me down into a deep slumber, dead to everyone and everything. The knock came again.

“Coming!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. I rubbed my hip as I pushed myself up, muttering curses under my breath. I tripped over my shoe and nearly fell again. It almost made me laugh. My bedroom looked a lot like it did when I lived here as a teenager.

It was the one room in the house that wasn’t in a terrible state. I had managed to clean it up on my own. Yes, it needed a lot more work, but it was fine for the moment. It was a comfortable place to stay with a large bay window overlooking the backyard and a door to the connected bathroom. It was my room, my safe place through the difficult teen years. Through my grief when I lost my mother. I supposed it was only natural it would be the space I claimed while I stayed in the house.

Knocking rattled the front door like a hurricane wind. The battered old thing couldn’t take much more abuse.

“Dammit, settle down!”

I grabbed the robe draped over the chair by the window. Tying it haphazardly, I shuffled toward the front door. My feet dragged as I stifled a yawn, dreading whoever thought it was acceptable to wake a person up this early.

This better be the cops or I’m murdering someone.

When I yanked the door open, the sight on my porch rendered me speechless. Kannon stood there, all six-foot-something of him, broad shoulders filling the doorway, his dark hair mussed from the wind. His leather jacket stretched across his chest like it had been custom-made for him. He had it zipped up. The damn thing fit like a glove. It showed off his very fine physique. Behind him were several guys I assumed were his crew. I tried not to flinch at the assortment of tattoos, beards, and muscles. They looked like they belonged in a chain gang, not on my peeling porch at this ungodly hour. If they had been led by anyone besides Kannon, I would have run for the hills screaming.

“Morning, princess,” Kannon drawled, his gaze raking over me. Slowly. “Did I wake you?”

I froze, acutely aware of the robe I was wearing and the fact that it wasn’t doing much to hide my legs. The heat of his stare seared my skin. His friends had the decency to not stare, which I appreciated. Still, my face flushed and I yanked the robe tighter around me.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” I asked. The air outside was chilly. I wasn’t about to let half the town see me standing there looking like I’d just rolled out of bed. Which I had.

Kannon smirked as he stepped past me, his crew following. “We talked about this yesterday. You needed help fixing up this place. Here we are.”

I gawked at him. “A heads-up would’ve been nice. I wasn’t expecting you to show up here at six in the morning.”

He shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “I’m not much of a dilly-dallying sort. Figured you’d know I meant first thing. This is a lot of work. We need every minute of daylight we can get.”

I wanted to throttle him. Instead, I huffed and stomped toward the kitchen. “I’m putting on coffee.”

The tiny pot only made four cups at a time.

I slammed it onto the counter with more force than necessary, filling the reservoir with water and scooping beans into the filter. The familiar sounds and smells began to fill the small, cluttered room, grounding me. I leaned against the counter. Kannon and his crew started moving through the house like a storm, assessing the walls, floors, and ceilings.

I tapped my foot while waiting for the coffee to finish. By the time the first mug was ready, the guys were already unloading gear and pulling apart drywall in the living room. I poured a cup for myself, but before I could take a sip, Kannon sauntered in, grabbed it from my hand, and drained it like it was water.

I glared at him. “Seriously?”

He grinned. “Appreciate it, Merritt. Keep it coming.”

Muttering more curses, I filled the second cup and started another pot before disappearing into the bathroom to shower and change. The hot water helped soothe my frayed nerves, but it didn’t stop the creeping feeling that I might’ve made a terrible mistake letting Kannon in my house.

When I emerged, dressed and slightly more awake, the first thing I saw was the mess. Dust and drywall littered the floor. They’d barely been here twenty minutes, and already it looked like a Hurricane Kannon had blown through.

Tools were scattered everywhere. My chest tightened as I took it all in. What had I done? My goal was to make the house pretty and suitable for a small family to live in. What I saw before me was chaos. A disaster.

Kannon must’ve noticed my deer-in-the-headlights expression because he walked over, dust streaking his black shirt. He wiped at what I assumed was drywall on his cheek.

“What the hell are you doing?” I asked him. “Is this a joke?”

“Relax, Merritt. We have to tear it apart before we can make it better. I told you we might need to take it down to the studs. We’re checking for water damage. Mold. So far, it looks to be isolated to that spot under the roof leak. My guys will get up there and take care of that today. Trust me, it gets worse before it gets better.”

“You sure about that?” I asked. “Because right now, it looks like you’re demolishing it. If I wanted it demolished, I would have sold it to one of those places that buys houses for cash.”

He grinned, his teeth white against his stubble. “It’s going to be fine. This is what I do.”

I wanted to argue. But he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. The touch was simple and innocent, but it had a strong effect on me. It kept me from spiraling, which would have been very easy to do. For reasons I didn’t want to unpack, I believed him.

“Fine,” I said, shaking him off and heading back to the kitchen. “I’m making more coffee.”

By the time I had brewed another pot and managed to fry some eggs and toast for myself, the noise was almost unbearable. The pounding, the sawing, the voices shouting over it all were too much. It was sensory overload. I couldn’t think straight, let alone get any work done.

My laptop sat open on the kitchen counter, untouched, while I shoved food into my mouth and tried not to let the chaos overwhelm me. I was trying to be productive but that was impossible in this chaotic scene.

Finally, I snapped the laptop shut. The soft click wasn’t nearly as effective as a slamming door. I headed into the living room, where Kannon was prying a piece of old wood paneling off the wall. “I can’t work like this,” I said, crossing my arms.

He glanced at me over his shoulder. “Then don’t.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have meetings. I need to go somewhere quiet.”

“Go, then.” His tone was dismissive. It rubbed me the wrong way. It was my house and he was basically kicking me out.

But when I looked around and saw the chaos, I realized he was actually making sense. I might not like it but it was true.

“Can you keep an eye on things here?” I asked, ignoring the little voice in my head that told me he was the last person who needed supervising.

Kannon turned, his brow furrowing. “You think I don’t have this under control?”

“No, I just?—”

“The place is empty, Merritt,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “What exactly are you worried about? Do you think me or my guys are going to steal your coffeemaker?”

I swallowed hard, my temper rising to match his. “I’m not worried. I just?—”

“Judging, then,” he said, stepping closer, his boots crunching over debris scattered all over the floor. “I’m here to help and you’re judging.”

“I’m not?—”

We were nose to nose now, his eyes locked on mine, both of us too stubborn to back down. My heart pounded but I refused to let him see me falter.

“You always were stubborn,” he said, his jaw flexing. “Used to be one of my favorite things about you.”

The words tore little chunks out of my heart. Used to be. Past tense. I shouldn’t have cared, but the pain was sharp enough to make my throat tighten.

“Used to be?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

His gaze flicked to my lips for the briefest second before he turned away, heading back to the wall he was working on. “I’ve got it under control here. Go get a latte or whatever you do and work. We don’t need you here. This is the demolition phase. We’ll be ripping out the carpet and you’ll just be in the way.”

I watched his back as he returned to tearing down the old, musty paneling, each pull punctuated by the rip of nails from the wall. The muscles in his back worked under his shirt. Despite my irritation, I found myself momentarily distracted by the memory of better times.

Shaking away the nostalgia, I grabbed my purse and keys from the countertop. “Fine,” I said curtly, turning on my heel. “Call me if there are any major issues. Try not to break any windows or damage the house any worse than it already is.”

My chest felt hollow as I walked out, leaving him and his crew to their noise. The drive to the cafe in my rental car was short, but I spent the entire time stewing over Kannon’s words, over his tone, over everything about him that got under my skin.

Used to be. I hated that it hurt. Hated even more that it mattered.

I settled into a corner of the bustling coffee shop. The murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups provided a strangely soothing backdrop. It was better than the hammering and drilling at the house. At least this kind of noise I was used to.

I opened my laptop and tried to focus on work. Unfortunately, Kannon’s words echoed in my mind, muddling my thoughts. He didn’t know me but clearly he thought he did.

Used to be his favorite thing.

I didn’t understand what that even meant. How could he pretend to know me when we hadn’t spoken in ten years? He didn’t get to imply I wasn’t the same person.

Even if I wasn’t, it didn’t mean he knew that. He accused me of judging, yet it was him who seemed to have formed his opinions, cast his judgments, and sealed them shut without giving me a chance.

I tried to shake off the growing frustration and bitterness as I focused on the document on my laptop. The cursor blinked back at me, mocking my inability to focus. The smell of coffee was normally a comforting thing, but today it just added to the sensory overload.

I reached for my phone and texted Lucia and Dominique in our group chat. I gave them an update on the house situation. They both texted me back, congratulating me on finding someone to help out. I didn’t tell them exactly who it was. I had a feeling they would have an opinion about it.

And I’d had enough opinions for one morning.