by Jeannie Watt
“Will do. First thing Mon…” The word died on his lips as he met her gaze. “I’ll swing by tomorrow morning and do what I can.”
“We appreciate that.”
Felicity led the way up the stairs, Deke made a joke about not getting locked into the school itself, then went on his way.
“I need to go,” Danny said. “I’m late.”
“I know.” She pushed her thumbs into her front pockets to keep from touching him. “My family doesn’t know about Sean.”
“I’m surprised.”
She understood because her family was tight-knit and seemingly shared everything.
“They know that we dated, but they don’t know that I gave up everything I’d worked for to follow him to Seattle only to be dumped. I…didn’t want to set a bad example.”
“They don’t suspect?”
“I never told them Sean was moving. Only that I was.” She let out a gusty sigh. “It’s quite possibly the only secret I’ve ever kept from them, and considering how things turned out, I’m glad I did.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” he said in a way that made her heart twist.
This man…
“I can’t fall in love with you, Danny.”
There. It was out. No more hedging or driving wedges.
Felicity sucked in a breath and defiantly met Danny’s gaze. Oddly, he did not seem one bit surprised at what she’d thought was a startling admission. And, to further complicate matters, beyond the lack of surprise, she couldn’t read him.
She didn’t need to read him. The truth was there, lying between them. She could not fall in love with him. She wouldn’t let it happen. And if it did, she would not acknowledge.
He nodded as if accepting the statement, but Felicity wasn’t so sure.
“That’s it? No argument? No comment?”
The crooked Danny grin broke through, a touch softer than usual. “I’m saving my strength, Felix. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter Thirteen
Danny was going to have to start considering the long game, because time was running out in the current inning and Felix had outmaneuvered him. Hamstrung him, really. And she’d done it by telling him exactly what she wouldn’t do—fall in love with him—even though he had a strong feeling that she already had. But she was dealing with scars from the past, and because of that, he had no clear path forward.
So what now?
Accept defeat?
It was what he had to do. Gracefully. With good humor. He’d loved and lost. Ha ha ha.
Danny gritted his teeth together as he fought to slide a door onto its hinges so that Stevie could tap in the pin.
They had a full crew that day—Stevie, Tess and her boyfriend Jason Regan, Bud Pratt and his grandson Stan—and the work was progressing rapidly. Had he and Felix had this much help from the beginning, they would have finished days ago.
The best part was Pete, who had agreed to use a portable wheelchair, rolling around the main floor, directing the finishing touches on the project that had fought him from day one. He was now officially half a day ahead of schedule and beaming with pride.
“We did good,” Felicity said from behind him as he swung the door shut.
“Yes. Good door.” He patted the solid oak.
“Good build.”
He smiled at her. “That, too.”
“Are you coming, Danny?” Stevie asked as she headed to the next office with an unhung door leaning against the wall.
“We’re going on a donut break,” Felicity said to her sister.
“Are we?” he asked. They hadn’t had a moment alone since the workday began, but there had been a tension growing between them when they were together. Unfinished business that may or may not get finished, although, he knew, that was his take on things. As far as Felicity was concerned, the matter had been settled yesterday.
Even though it wasn’t.
“Yes.” She met his gaze and then he followed her to the break room where there were still a few donuts left from breakfast. She stopped before she reached the small table with the box and turned to him. “We’re still good, right?”
It was a statement, not a question. She wanted them to be back where they’d been when the project started, and in a way they were.
“Yeah. On different pages, but good.”
“How do we get on the same page?” she asked in a low voice, glancing up as Tess walked down the hall.
“Honesty.”
She blinked at him, a rosy stain blooming on her cheekbones. “I was honest. And will continue to be honest.” Her voice dropped even more. “I told you about Sean. I told you where I am in life.”
Told me you couldn’t fall in love with me.
He didn’t say the words, but she picked up on his thought and put a hand on his chest. “That’s why we’re friends, Danny, and that’s how we’re going to stay.” Her voice was a little too clinical and cool, almost as if she’d practiced the speech.
“Explain the kisses.”
Her eyes narrowed into her patented challenge-accepted expression. “Biology.”
“And that’s it.”
She nodded, the movement jerky. Her bluff was well below her normal performance level. She was serious about keeping up her charade of not caring for him, and he didn’t know how to fight it.
He glanced past her to the doorway where Bud ambled by, giving them a long, curious look. Oh yeah. Everyone was clued into the fact that something was going on between them. Felicity rolled her eyes and Danny said, “I should get back at it.”
“Sure.”
“Hey.” He paused in the doorway, keeping one hand on the frame. “Don’t forget the crime book for your friend. You left it in your construction apron last night.” He knew because he’d accidently knocked it off the nail and it had hit the ground with a clunk that morning.
“Right. Thanks.”
He hesitated, then said, “We’re good, Felix.” He patted the doorframe for emphasis, then headed down the hall to finish hanging doors.
So much for honesty.
*
“Good news, Danny. Great news.”
“What?” he asked, mystified as to what good news Sandra had at nine p.m. on Saturday.
“The cleaning company left a message and I just got to it. They have a two-day cancellation on Tuesday and Wednesday if you want to jump on it.”
He glanced around the dimly lit cavernous building in which he stood. “It’ll take more than two days for them to clear this place out unless I—”
“Get rid of the debris and knock down the rest of the framing. I’ll help you. Do you think we could get it done?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” He’d have to bail on the last day of Pete’s project, which he hated to do, but frankly, they were now ahead of the game and since the entire crew was coming back tomorrow, they didn’t need him. “I’ll run it by the Evanses, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Shall I confirm? The message said I need to confirm by Monday at nine a.m.”
“Confirm,” he said. “We’ll get this done.”
“Great. Then we can move on Fork Horn.”
“I’m all for that. What time can you get here tomorrow?”
“Early. Seven.”
“See you then. Wear gloves and a coat you don’t mind destroying. It’s cold, dirty work.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Danny,” she said with a laugh. “See you then.”
He ended the call and rubbed the back of his neck. He’d left the school at seven with the rest of the crew and had driven straight to the warehouse, where he’d just put in two hours. But if he worked a few more hours tonight, he and Sandra might be able to have something the cleaning crew could work with. Or around. As long as they were able to deal with the grease, grim, and guano, he was good.
A thought struck him, and he pulled out his phone. When the answer came, he said, “Hey, Muff, how are you with a paint roller?”
“What?” Matt Mufalino gave a small
snort. “Okay, I guess.”
“I need a favor.”
A few minutes later he hung up after promising to go over Muff’s computer system and to help him hook up his new audio system. Now he felt less guilty about leaving the Evans job.
Two hours later his stomach started to rumble, and he called it a night. A quick trip to Pizza Bob’s to pick up a small carryout, and a few hours’ sleep, and he’d be ready to tackle things with Sandra the next morning.
He drove home, thinking that he’d jump the fence and explain matters to Pete and Felix early the next morning, but when he turned into the driveway, her bedroom light was on, and he could see her sitting at the desk.
He parked his car and pulled the key out of the ignition, cupping them in his hand as he debated.
There were things he wanted to settle. Things that had niggled at him as he worked.
Things he wanted to say face-to-face without an audience.
Opportunity beckoned.
*
Felicity yawned as she closed her laptop before crossing the room to turn off the overhead light. She should have fallen into bed, exhausted, shortly after watching the sports highlights with her dad, but instead she’d packed her clothing, then spent an hour reading and replying to work emails, getting ahead of the game.
She’d just reached for the switch when she heard a tap on the window. The thick briars of the snowy rosebushes made it impossible for a person to reach the pane, so it had to be a branch. Or something.
She snapped off the light and another tap sounded, a little louder than the first.
An errant woodpecker?
The next hit was more of a splat than a tap. She crossed to the window and looked out to see Danny standing in her yard, ready to toss another small snowball in her direction. She tried to open the window, but it had been painted shut a long time ago, when her skills with a brush were not as refined as they now were.
Instead, she tapped back to indicate she’d heard him, then shoved her feet into her snow boots and grabbed her down jacket off the chair next to the desk. After creeping down the hall, she paused at the end, listening for her dad’s steady breathing, then tiptoed past his chair and let herself out the front door. She didn’t shut it all the way, fearing that the loudish click of the lock would wake him. She wrapped her coat around herself and headed down the steps to where Danny stood waiting.
“Have you heard of this new thing called texting?” she asked. The night air was unusually warm, almost balmy given recent temperatures. A storm was coming in, pushing the warm air ahead of it. She only hoped she got to the airport in Boise before it hit.
“I’m not coming in tomorrow,” Danny said, ignoring her question. “The industrial cleaning service had an opening on Tuesday, so I’m spending tomorrow and the next day clearing everything I can out of the warehouse. Sandra is helping me, and Muff is going to take my place at the school.”
This was it. The end of their collaboration.
It felt strangely final.
“My dad doesn’t know?” She was certain he didn’t.
“Sandra’s associate took the message and didn’t pass it along in a timely manner. I just found out. Muff assures me that he’s a master painter, and he knows how to run the micro pinner.”
“So today was your last day?” She stated the obvious as she wrapped her head around the fact that this was goodbye, and more than that, the feeling that she wasn’t ready for goodbye.
“I hope you understand.”
“I do,” she assured him. It wasn’t like she’d never see him again. In fact, she was getting what she’d wanted, time and distance. A chance for her to gain perspective and a chance for him to do the same. This was disappointing, but really a good thing. An inevitability.
Then why did it feel so bad?
Danny pushed his hands farther into his pockets. “Your light was still on and I wanted to say goodbye face-to-face.”
There was a finality to his words that brought a frown to her face. “Shouldn’t it be ‘see you later’?”
He merely raised his eyebrows and despite the warm wind caressing her face, a chill went through her. Danny shifted his weight.
“Here’s the thing, Felicity. I’ve been over this in my head, debating strategy until I’m dizzy. I don’t have one. You’ve effectively blocked me at every move.”
“Years of practice.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
A heavy feeling of foreboding settled over her, tightening her stomach and shallowing her breath.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked, as if she knew what he was talking about. And then he explained. “What are you really afraid of when it comes to you and me?”
She didn’t even try to answer.
“You’re afraid of making the same mistake again,” he continued, his gaze drilling into her. “Thus placing me squarely into the mistake category.”
“You’re not a mistake,” she said. “But hooking up with you might be.”
“Because…” he prompted. He was going to make her spell it out.
“I’m not ready to take the risk,” she said in a low voice.
“How so?” he asked. “The real answer, Felix.”
Her gaze flashed up. “When have I ever not given you the real answer?”
“When you told me you couldn’t fall in love with me.”
“Okay. How’s this? I can’t afford to fall in love with you.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the reasons alphabetically or in order of importance?”
“You’d better not say one word about retirement funds,” he warned.
Her voice rose as she said, “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
He drew back his head as he frowned at her. “One more time?”
She took a step forward and took hold of his jacket front, just as she had when she’d mangled his shirt. “Friends who become lovers risk losing everything. Everything, Danny. We’re at a point where we can still be friends. No bridges have been burned. Lines have been crossed, but none that time won’t mend.”
“Do you love me?”
She let go of his coat and stepped back abruptly. “I’m not going to answer that,” she said, knowing full well that she just had. “This is what happened with Sean.”
“What’s that?”
“He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept pushing and challenging me, and in the beginning it felt good to answer those challenges. It felt like…you and me.”
“And you met his challenge by giving up everything?”
“It was my choice. I thought it was the right one.”
“What did he give up?”
“Yeah,” she said darkly. “I already figured that part out.”
He gave her a long look, then let out a low breath, looking past her to his parents’ house, where the kitchen light burned. When he looked back, she was rocked by the fierceness of his expression. “Don’t compare me to this guy, Felicity. And while it’s good to think a few steps ahead, can you tell me why you have us breaking up forever before we’ve even tried to build something? Why you expect the worst?”
“Because I’m really afraid of the worst.”
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
It told her so much, but the fear was there, like a physical thing that she couldn’t work her way around. She tilted up her chin. “It tells me that I’m not ready for the same thing you are.”
It told her that she still had an issue with loss.
“Have you ever tried to be just friends with someone you were in love with?”
She hadn’t, but she knew what he was getting at.
“So it’s all or nothing?” A shaft of fear went through her, because again, this felt like the Sean situation.
“It’s not an ultimatum, Felicity. It’s a statement of fact. Friendships change, too.”
“I think my head is going to explode,” Felicity said. “Why is nothing easy with you?”
“Or you.”
“Felicity!” They looked toward the house, where the wind had blown open the door she hadn’t quite closed. Felicity let out a defeated sigh.
“Out here, Dad. I’ll be right in.”
She turned to look at Danny, who shook his head and said, “I don’t know where this leaves us, other than out of time.”
Nor did she. The head explosion was still a possibility. It beat bursting into frustrated tears.
She started to speak, but he simply raised his hand. “I’ll give you your distance. Go to Seattle. Think things through. Ignore any small messages I may have left you.”
“Small messages?”
“Never mind. The next move is yours.”
Her move. Excellent.
What now?
Danny took a few easy backward steps as she remained frozen in place. Nothing was working out according to plan and now the door was banging against the side of the house.
“Go,” he said.
“Fine,” she muttered as she turned and trudged up the sidewalk to the house. When she glanced over her shoulder, Danny was already over the fence and crossing the yard to his porch.
She watched him go, fighting stupid tears. Tears of frustration, not loss.
Right.
“Sorry about that,” she said to her father after coming inside and closing the door behind her. It was all she could do not to lean her head against the heavy wood. She cleared her throat and hoped her voice sounded normal as she said, “Danny won’t be able to come to work tomorrow. We were discussing.”
“Couldn’t he have texted?”
“Some things are better done in person,” she murmured. “Muff is going to take his place.”
“Good thing the nail guns are put away.” Her dad yawned and adjusted his blanket. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” she said lightly. “We’re ahead of schedule at the school. We’ll be fine.”
“I meant with Danny.”
“They’re great,” she lied. “Night, Dad.”
Felicity headed down the hall, telling herself that she was within her rights to dodge a parental third degree. She kicked off her boots and glanced at the clock before shrugging out of her coat. Ten minutes past midnight.