Chapter 18

For once, Madde came home later than me. I'd just parked the lawnmower in the shed when she appeared in the yard. She dropped her bag on the porch and strode toward me.

"Inger called," she said, sounding breathless.

"What now?"

"She said Eric just threatened her with an axe."

I froze. That didn't make any sense. "Eric? With an axe?"

"I don't believe a word of what she said. But you should check on him."

I was already dialing his number, but he didn't pick up. "What exactly did she tell you?"

"I made it clear I didn't believe her, so she got defensive. From what I could put together, I think she saw him doing something on the cottage she thought was stupid. She said he was making a hole in a wall with an axe? He probably sent her to hell, presumably while still holding the axe."

"That sounds way too wild to be Eric."

"I know."

"I'll go see him."

"Let me know he's okay, please."

"Sure."

I was already walking toward the forest, taking the shortest path to Eric's cottage. When I called again, he didn't answer.

Nearing the cottage, I noticed a pile of trash in the grass. Eric was nowhere to be seen. I peeked around the porch. Just above the granite ground, a small section of the facade was missing, the core construction exposed. The beam and the wall planks above it were broken. The wood was dry but crumbling in places, visibly rotten.

Discovering damage like that must have sent Eric into panic mode. No wonder he'd snapped at Inger. She couldn't have chosen a worse time to snoop around.

I knocked on the door and waited. Nothing.

So I knocked again.

"Eric?"

A few seconds later he opened the door. He barely looked at me before turning around and walking to the kitchen. No hug, no kiss.

Apprehension made my stomach iffy.

"Sorry. I thought it was Inger again," he muttered.

I left my muddy shoes on the porch and followed him to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"Sure. Do you want something to drink?" He sounded tense. Even brittle.

Why wasn't he telling me anything?

"What's with the pile of planks and Styrofoam in your garden?"

"I was just checking something. Coffee?"

"Inger told Madde you threatened her with an axe."

Eric scoffed. "I wish I had. She blabbered already, huh? This fucking village…"

He picked two mugs from the cupboard and began preparing a French press.

I sighed. I didn't want to confront him. He looked stressed enough without me pressuring him. But I needed to help him. It hurt to see him like this.

"The beam looks rotten."

He paused with his back to me. His shoulders lifted with a deep breath.

"I noticed," he said quietly.

"If that's what has you worried, we can fix that. I can?—"

He spun around and glared at me. "No, Bj?rn."

"Why not? I'm happy to?—"

"You're happy to help. You're always happy to help. And I'm grateful to you, I really am. You're so kind and selfless… I… Thank you. But I need to do this on my own." His eyes glistened, but he sounded determined.

"Why? I know people, we have half of the equipment?—"

"You can't build my dang house for me. You can't keep fixing stuff for me. It's my house. I bought it. I'm renovating it. My responsibility. And if I fuck up, I'm the one who's got to carry the consequences."

"Even if we're in a relationship? Do you still have to do everything on your own?"

He paused, but only for a split second. "Especially then."

"I don't understand, Eric. What's going on?"

"You always swoop in!" he cried, throwing his arms in the air. "And you're amazing! With the firewood, your pressure washer, your selection of drills, and your big-ass truck. And I let you do everything. But then I let myself be dependent on you."

This was bad, wasn't it? Now, I was in panic mode. I needed to fix this. I needed Eric happy and in my arms.

"Are you going to break up with me?"

He deflated. "No. Not at all."

I moved to take his hand. "Why can't you let me help, Eric?"

He squeezed my hand, but then he let go. "I need to do this myself, please."

The set of his jaw, his frown. I had no arguments.

"I'm sorry." I didn't even know what I was sorry for.

"You haven't done anything wrong. Thank you for coming over." He blinked, his eyes brimming with tears. "I'm not breaking up with you, I promise. We're good. We're great together, in fact. Just…I need to be alone for a few hours. I need to calm down and think."

Fighting the urge to hug him, I fisted my hands and took a step back. "Okay."

"I'll call you."

"Yeah."

Maybe it was better to let him cool down. He told me to go, so I went. But it felt so wrong to just leave him there alone.

When I toldMadde what had happened, she was about to put on her shoes and go yell at Eric. I pushed her into a kitchen chair and made us tea. We almost never made tea, but coffee would only make me more anxious.

"You can't go over there," I told Madde. "Not now."

"But we must help him."

"Not if he doesn't want our help."

"You're just going to let it be? Give up on him?"

"No. Of course not. But I need to give him space when he demands it, right?"

"I guess. It's just that he must be so stressed."

"I can't force myself into his life, Madde."

"It's not either/or, is it? Show him that you're here for him when he needs you."

"I think I did that. He kicked me out."

Madde hugged her tea mug with both hands. "I have to be patient, huh? I hate that."

I let out a weak chuckle. "I know."

"But he likes you. Of that, I'm sure."

I thought so too. But him not letting me help when he needed me the most… It hurt.

"He's so much stronger than me." Saying it out loud made me realize how true it was.

Madde was silent for a few beats. "Do you resent him for that?"

"No, not at all. I admire him. Honestly, what he's doing and what he's accomplished is awe-inspiring. Did you know his parents disowned him when he came out to them? They haven't reached out to him in twelve years. He's been on his own most of his adult life, with no safety net. That's why he's so fiercely independent. He doesn't have a grand career and loads of money, but he's building a life for himself that he believes will make him happy despite what anyone might think."

"That's admirable, yes," said Madde with a tenderness in her voice.

"The entire village thinks he won't make it here because he's gay and from the south, but they don't know him. Eric is tougher than the toughest of us."

The tea was a little too dark. I'd left the leaves soaking for too long, and it would taste sour. I sat down with our mugs, staring into the murky depths of the too-strong tea.

"I'm in love with him."

Madde made a soft sound of surprise. She carded her fingers through my hair, and I let her, tilting my head toward her like a stray dog.

"You're stronger than you think," she whispered. "You can admit your weaknesses. You don't use anger to disguise your fear."

"I try not to be like Dad."

"You are a little alike." I stiffened, but she just kept petting me. "Soft on the inside and gruff on the outside. Except your grandfather had beaten all tenderness and compassion out of your dad. He believed that any emotion other than anger was a sign of weakness. You're not like that. You're kind and loving, Bj?rn. And that is a formidable strength to possess."

I blinked away the burning in my eyes and caught her hand.

"When I told Eric about Dad, I told him you saved me. I meant it, Madde. You saved me."

She hugged me around my shoulders. "You're the best thing in my life, my boy."

I soaked up her love like I'd always done since I was an angry little kid.

"What are we going to do about Eric?" she asked after a while.

"I'll give him a couple of days to cool off, and if he doesn't call me by then, I'll go see him again."

She pressed a kiss to my temple. "Make it one day."

I smiled. That sounded much better. "Okay."