Chapter 8

8

MERRITT

K annon placed the helmet carefully on the seat, the move as effortless as everything else he did. How did he manage to get sexier with time?

His black hair was thicker and longer than I remembered. His eyebrows, just as dark, were equally thick and made his brown eyes look darker. The long lashes were so thick it almost looked like he was wearing eyeliner. I didn’t think it was possible, but just like my first impression, I was certain he had grown. Maybe it was because I was looking at a man and not the boy I once knew.

I stood there, clutching my bag of paintbrushes, expecting him to fire up the engine and roar away. But instead, he looked at the house, his jaw tightening.

“Your dad wouldn’t have liked this,” he said, his tone flat, his gaze fixed on the sagging gutters and peeling paint. “Letting the place go like this.”

I bristled, crossing my arms over my chest. “Well, my dad let it fall apart, didn’t he? Not me.” My voice was sharper than I intended, but the words stung because they were true.

Kannon looked at me. “Did he ever tell you he needed help?”

“No,” I said, my voice quieter now. “He never asked. I flew him out every holiday, had him spend weeks with me, but he never let on he wanted me to come back. I didn’t know.” My throat tightened. I hated how vulnerable I sounded. “I already feel bad enough about it without you making it worse, okay?”

He stared at me for a beat too long, making me feel like I’d failed some unspoken test. Finally, he sighed and moved past me toward the porch.

“You can go now,” I called after him. “Thanks for the ride, but I don’t need your judgment.”

He didn’t answer, just stepped onto the warped wooden planks. The weight of him made them groan. I followed behind.

“If you fall through the porch, don’t think you’re going to sue me,” I warned. “You can see how decrepit it is. You made your point. I suck. I let it fall apart.”

He ignored me. I watched as he reached up and felt along the top of the doorframe. His fingers paused, and then he pulled out a key.

“Are you kidding me?” I gawked. “That’s not my key.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, amused, holding it up before sliding it into the lock. “Your dad always kept a spare. Guess you didn’t know.”

The door creaked open. “Not about that one.”

I stopped, swallowing the lump of denial clogging my throat. I had been so sure that I knew everything about my father. But it seemed like even the house he left behind had secrets from me.

Using the spare key, Kannon entered the house as if he owned it. My temper flared again. “What are you doing?” I demanded, following him inside. “I don’t remember inviting you in.”

He ignored me once more, too busy surveying the interior of the house. I hovered in the doorway, torn between telling him off and letting him go. He whistled low as he took in the condition of the interior. He touched the walls and bounced up and down on the floor as if he were testing it. Nothing cracked or splintered, which was a win.

Eventually, he turned to face me. The faded wallpaper behind him peeled off in large chunks. For a brief moment, his face was unreadable, his gaze darting from the ceiling to the floor and back at me.

“Who was taking care of this place?” It was not a question. It felt like an accusation.

“No one,” I stated, glancing nervously around the room that once felt warm and welcoming but now looked strange and unfamiliar.

There was silence. He did not say anything for a long time, just stood there, surveying the place.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do to bring this place back to life,” he said, turning to face me with a smirk. “It’s a long way from its glory days.”

“I don’t know if it ever had any glory,” I muttered, stepping inside. “But yes, I have a lot of work to do.”

He reached his hand up and gently pushed on the sagging ceiling. “What’s your plan?”

I stiffened. “Why is that your business?”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “It’s been ten years, Buttercup, but I can still read you like a book.”

“Don’t—” My breath hitched, and I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Call you that?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. He raked his fingers through his dark hair. The gesture was too familiar, too distracting. “It suits you.”

I glared at him, wishing I could wipe the smug look off his face. It wasn’t fair that he could stand here in this house, with all these memories, and still look so devastating . The Kannon I’d grown up with was different. Back then, his smile was easy, his laugh infectious. He’d been my best friend, my rock. My mother used to call him my other half, while my father had said he was my protector. They loved that he was in my life. They trusted him to take care of me when I was out of their sight.

Back then, he did. He really had been someone I relied on. I always thought we would be together forever.

The first time he met my dad was when we were ten. I had stayed home sick from school. Kannon brought my homework to me. I remembered hearing him ask my dad if he could check on me. It was so sweet and innocent.

My parents had immediately fallen in love with the kid that cared enough about their only daughter to go out of his way to check on her. They took him under their wing and kept him close as we grew up together. We used to play and rough house like we were brother and sister. My parents didn’t hesitate to discipline Kannon if he got out of line. He really was like one of the family.

It wasn’t until we hit adolescence that things got weird. Our sibling-like relationship twisted. I didn’t think either of us saw each other as brother and sister anymore. We were still best friends, but the sibling thing felt wrong. Looking back, I realize it felt wrong because we had developed feelings for each other.

We went to high school together and he took me to prom and we walked together at graduation. I still remembered graduation night very fondly. It was a night I would never forget. I truly believed we were the couple that would be at the ten-year reunion happily in love with two or three kids and a golden retriever at home.

But life hadn’t worked out that way.

“You need help,” Kannon said, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between us. “Lucky for you, I own a restoration company. Fixing up places like this is what I do.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You do restorations?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone casual like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I can use some overflow supplies from other jobs to keep costs down. You’ll only have to pay for new materials if you need them.”

My mouth opened but no words came out. He turned away, walking to the window overlooking the lake. I followed his line of sight. For a moment, I could see what he saw. The water had the typical serene, glass-like appearance in the late afternoon light, the way it had when we were kids. I wondered if he was remembering the same things I was, the days we spent swimming until our fingers wrinkled, the nights we’d sat on the dock talking about the future. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my mom made us while trying to solve all the mysteries of the world.

He turned back to me, his expression blank, like he was a cyborg underneath that beautiful exterior. “What do you say?”

I hesitated, torn between pride and practicality. I didn’t want to owe him anything. But I wasn’t naive. This house was a disaster, and I didn’t have the money to hire anyone else. And I had recently figured out I didn’t have the know-how to do it on my own. I never imagined painting could actually be difficult. Finally, I sighed. “Fine.”

His lips curved into a grin. “Good choice. Work starts tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I frowned. “I just got here.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “No point wasting time. Do you have somewhere else you can stay? This is going to be a construction zone.”

I shook my head. “I’m staying here. I just got a bed and some stuff to make it livable for the month. You’ll have to work around me.”

His grin widened, the kind of grin that made me want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him. “Then you’d better not get in my way.”

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back.

We stared at each other, the tension crackling between us. Part of me wanted to push him out the door and tell him to take his charm and his restoration company with him. The other part of me—the part that still remembered what it felt like to lean on him, to trust him—wanted to let him stay.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But I’m not making it easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, his tone teasing.

“And I better not find you pawing through my things.”

He made it a point to look me up and down. “I’ve already pawed through all of your things.”

I gulped. Was he referring to the distant memories of our teenage years, or was there a more recent incident he was alluding to? “What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I meant your bag,” he clarified, grinning at my reaction. “When I put it in my saddlebag.”

I felt foolish for letting my mind wander into dangerous territories, and nodded curtly, swallowing the embarrassment. “Oh. I was going to start painting my bedroom but realized I needed a few things.”

“Don’t paint anything,” he said. “I need to check for rot and mold. If that ceiling was leaking, we might need to take it down to the studs.”

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure if this was another double entendre. I didn’t get it.

He chuckled, his eyebrows lifting as he observed my puzzled expression. “Not innuendo, sweetheart,” he explained. “I’ve got to look over the structure beneath the plaster. If there’s water damage, we’ll need to take it down to the wooden framing—the studs—before we can fix anything.”

My eyes widened in horror at his words. “But that’s huge!”

I realized the moment I said the word he was going to take it the wrong way.

The cocky grin said as much. “Restoration work is always a big job, which is why I’m the right man for it.”

I groaned, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

He walked to the door, then stopped to look back at me. “A few of us are grabbing drinks tonight. You should come. See some familiar faces.”

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to read between the lines of my refusal. Finally, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

I didn’t watch him leave. I didn’t let myself. Instead, I focused on the house, on the overwhelming task ahead of me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Kannon’s presence in my life again was about to make things a whole lot more complicated.