I walk over, running my hand over the grainy wooden top of the chest. There’s no history in new. No mystery. I like old.
Jake stands back, looking at the piece with me. It almost looks like something out of Beauty and the Beast. The Disney version. The wood curves, the chest widening as it goes up, and there’s lots of detail around the edges and feet. This was probably a stunning piece in its day.
“My ex and I collected a bunch of stuff from yard sales for when we finished building this place,” Jake says, “but then shit happened, so…”
I open the drawers, checking the functionality.
“So yeah, it’s all yours,” he adds. “It’s one other thing to keep you occupied this winter.”
I turn my head over my shoulder, shooting him a look.
One other thing.
He smirks.
Noah nudges my arm. “Let me show you the paints.”
I follow him.
Hours later, Noah and I work away in the shop, our empty dinner bowls of Jake’s chili sitting on the cement floor. The wind howls outside the bay door, but the wood-burning stove crackles in the background, and I don’t even need a coat out here.
Although, I’m wearing two pairs of cozy socks inside my slipper clogs as I putter around in my jeans and Noah’s flannel.
Pushing up my sleeves, I dip the rag in the turpentine and bring it up, slopping it across the top of the chest and scrubbing off the remnants of the finish.
“Doing okay?” Noah asks.
I look up, seeing him digging in a coffee can, the nuts and bolts inside jingling.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the sudden interest in furniture rehab?”
I laugh under my breath, sloshing the rag into the can again. “Maybe it’s an excuse to be where you guys are,” I tease. “All of us working together.”
His white teeth peek out as his smile spreads.
“Or maybe I just don’t want to be left alone inside with your brother’s wrath,” I mumble.
I’d had to wash my hair after the oatmeal this morning. Kaleb helped with the bikes sometimes, but I caught on very early that Jake didn’t make the same demands of him that he did with Noah. Probably because he couldn’t push Kaleb around and didn’t want to risk pushing him too far.
Sometimes Kaleb helped here in the shop. And sometimes he took care of the animals, chopped wood, repaired various equipment around the property, hunted, played with the dogs, or shut himself up in his room. He didn’t stick to only things he wanted to do, but it usually had to be things where he could be left alone. I knew that much.
I continue, my two low pigtails bobbing against my chest as I rub the wood down to its natural color.
Maybe it’s an excuse to be where you guys are.
I might not have been joking about that. College brochures and course catalogs sit on the kitchen table right now, because as soon as I sat down earlier with my laptop to try to go online to fill out applications, I suddenly needed air. Every university takes me away from here.
“It’s not personal, you know?” Noah says.
I look up at him.
“Kaleb,” he clarifies.
I drop my eyes, focusing back on my work. I find that hard to believe. Does he spit in most people’s hair? Noah doesn’t know everything.
Tossing the cloth back in the can, I walk to the basin and wash my hands. Noah crouches down to lie on his back, sliding under the bike again.
“Don’t you want to know what happened to him?” he asks.
“If he wants to tell me.”
I actually am interested, but my pride won’t allow me to show it.
I whip my hands, flinging the excess water before turning off the faucet.
“He’s like our father.” Noah twists a wrench, looking up at his work. “They don’t trust women. Until you, anyway.”
Trust me how? And wanna bet it was one woman who ruined it for all of us? How original. And not at all silly.
Noah tosses his tool, and I see the black all over his fingers. “Hand me that wrench with the yellow tape on it, would you?”
I head over to his worktable and grab the long silver tool with a black handle and yellow tape. Walking over to him, I drop down and slide under the bike with him.
“And you?” I ask, handing him the wrench. “Do you trust me?”
He uses the tool, tightening or loosening something, not making eye contact. I’m still not sure what that means, though. Trust me to have their backs? Not hurt them? Be faithful? Never abandon them?
He’s silent for a few more moments, and the seconds start to stretch as the dread inside me churns.
“I heard you last night,” he says in almost a whisper.
Heard me…
His tight lips purse as he tightens the bolt. “Daddy didn’t love you, so you let mine fuck you so he will.”
I stare hard at him as he works, and even though his anger rocks me, because this is Noah and Noah is always my friend, his words don’t necessarily hurt. He needs to say something.
He goes on. “Maybe you’ve done without for so long, you’re confused that sex means love.”
He hands me the wrench, and I take it.
“Maybe you’ll do anything to make sure he never forgets you exist,” he nearly whispers. “Even if it means spreading your pretty legs.”
The jaw of his smooth, tanned face flexes, and he still won’t meet my eyes, but even though his sharp words try to cut, I’m not mad.
He frowns, and I can tell the wheels are turning in his head.
“Or maybe…” he says. “Maybe you’re like me, and you’ll do anything to feel good.” He finally turns his eyes to look at me. “Even if it means never remembering their last names.”
I hold his gaze, both of us lying on our backs and Jake and Kaleb somewhere in the house.
The flecks of green in his blue eyes darken, and I’m almost at ease until I see his stare harden on me.
“I wanted to be in there with you,” he whispers.
The dark space under the bike hides us from the door, and I don’t run away, because I’m not scared of Noah.
And I am scared of him. I like that he talks to me.
But sometimes I’m afraid of it, too.
“They don’t talk to me, either,” he murmurs. “I was going to make love to you, you know?”
My gaze falters. He says it like he’s never done it before.
“I was going to make love to you,” he repeats.
And I finally get it.
Not screw. Not fuck.
He was going to make it matter.