by Kai Strand
“It’s Rod,” he says. “Just Rod.”
I blink as a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions stir around inside me. His voice is deep and raspy. At first it hits me like a gust of wind, full force, full body. Then its silent echo tickles my ears and my mind like a soft summer breeze. I want to tip my face upward. Feel his voice whisper against my skin.
“Oh my god,” I say, my own voice breathy with wonder.
He cocks his head.
“You…” I slam my eyes closed trying to comprehend what I’ve just now realized. When I open them, Rodney—Rod’s—head is cocked to the other side. “You’ve…tha…that’s the first time you’ve spoken.”
Rod’s mouth opens as if he’s going to dispute it, but then I see the last three weeks pass through his thoughts like they did mine and his mouth closes into a tight lipped, sheepish smile.
I’m huffing and gulping and making other funny noises as I try to think of what to say, while also trying to wrap my mind around the reality that I’ve seen this guy three times—no four, I saw him at his high school, too—and I’ve never heard him speak.
“Are you…?” I shake my head, not wanting to force him to admit something uncomfortable. “Is this normal for you? To be so quiet?”
He slouches against the house. His gaze roams my face and he draws in a deep breath. One shoulder shrugs and his mouth opens, but again he hesitates. There’s something so vulnerable in him I want to reach out. Maybe grab his arm in a reassuring grip and tell him everything’s okay, but I’m so completely shocked that I have no clue if anything is okay. How could I? I don’t know one thing about him.
I panic. Am I really that shallow? That selfish? First Mr. Whitman and now Rodney. Rod.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says.
His voice startles me all over again. He rubs my upper arm in the same reassuring gesture I’d just wanted to give him.
“It’s not though.” I cover my mouth with my hand, as if that would hold back the scream building inside me. My next words are slightly muffled. “I’m so self-absorbed. I can’t believe I never realized you weren’t speaking.”
“You’ve been busy teaching me.” He shrugs and seems to be trying to think of something more to say. As if he knows talking more will be the only thing to make me feel better. “Uh, I guess I never needed to talk.”
I lean away from his low, gravely, radio announcer voice. It is so not what I’d expect him to sound like. Though I guess I’d never expect anyone to have a sexy voice like his.
“It’s not a big deal.” He leans toward me like he wants to touch me again but doesn’t. “I didn’t even realize I hadn’t talked. Don’t blame yourself.”
I bite my lip. “Are you sure? I think by now I should at least have asked you something.”
Rod shakes his head and turns toward the house to start working again. “You’ve asked me plenty of things. About school, if I have experience in the different functions of home building that you’ve taught me. You aren’t selfish, Lola.”
My stomach somersaults when he says my name. I’ve read plenty of stories where the heroine loves the sound of her name on the hero’s lips and—oh my heatstroke! I totally get that now. He makes my name sound rounder than other people do, like he’s holding it on his tongue to savor.
He misinterprets the reason my eyes widen and rushes to assure me. “You aren’t. I promise.”
“Thanks, Rod.” I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds odd.”
“What does?”
I finally turn back to my own work. “Your name. You’re pretty solidly Rodney in my mind. Rod doesn’t feel right.”
He chuckles. The warmth and openness in it makes me swerve my caulking gun. I pull a rag out of my apron pocket, swipe away the errant line of caulk, and try again.
“Rodney doesn’t sound right to me. Now that you mention it, I’ve been meaning to correct you, but we always moved on to something else before I did.”
I peek at him. He smiles at the wall while he works. The weather is colder than previous workdays, so he’s wearing a long sleeved t-shirt with ragged edged sleeves. It’s a bit oversized for him and makes him look even thinner than normal. His jeans are baggy on his lanky frame. He sort of looks like he’d snap if he did any heavy lifting, but having worked with him I know how strong he is.
“Rod?” I draw his name out longer than its simple construction warrants because it feels so foreign on my tongue. When he glances at me I ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
His smile transforms him. He looks younger and freer. “A little brother. Randall. I call him D.”
“Why D?”
“It gets kind of confusing to have a Rodney and a Randall, or a Rodney and a Randy, or a Rod and a Rand in the same house. No matter what combination of our names we use, long or short, they always sound too much alike. I fixed all the miscommunication by calling him D.”
“How old is he?”
“Eleven.” Rod’s smile dips a little at the corners, or at least the one corner I can see, while he concentrates on his work. “He started middle school this year.”
“Ooo, big step.” We finish our sections of caulking and shift down the wall to start the next. “Parents?”
“Do I have them?” Rod raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be here without them.”
I make a pffft noise in response to his smart aleck remark. “I don’t need a lesson in the birds and the bees, thank you. I was just asking if your parents are still together.”
“Oh.” His tone is over the top I-get-it-now, so I slap his shoulder. “No, we live with our mother. My father is God knows where, probably strung out. D’s dad sees him a couple times a year, and I wish he didn’t. My mom is currently…”
His voice cuts off so suddenly I look to make sure he didn’t drop into a black hole.
“Single,” he practically whispers.
I see the slightest shake in the hand holding the caulking gun and decide I’ll leave the subject alone.
“You?” he asks in a more normal voice.
“I am currently single, too,” I say, without thinking, and then inwardly cringe over the crassness of the joke when the subject obviously bothered him. I’m relieved when he laughs. “Well, I think.”
His eyebrows arch. “You don’t know if you’re single or not? How is that possible?”
Then I shake my head realizing how stupid it is for me to even consider Rome and I any sort of couple at this stage. “I’m single. I’m just being an idiot.”
“Oh, so there’s someone you like?”
“I’ve kind of liked him for maybe six or seven years now. You know, like had a crush on him. I just never expected he’d…we’d…well, we went out for breakfast last weekend.” I shrug.
“Breakfast?” Rod looks at me. “Did I miss a new fad? Are breakfast dates a thing now? ‘Cause that would be awesome. Breakfast is way cheaper than dinner and a movie.”
I laugh. “No, we went to breakfast because he had to get back to school.”
Rod raises his eyebrows and turns back to his work. “School, as in college?”
“Yeah. He graduated from LP last year.”
“You go to Lindsey Preparatory?”
The tightness in his tone and the stiffness of his posture makes me hesitate. “Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
“I thought you knew that. I saw you that day at Canton High.”
“Well, it isn’t like you were wearing a letterman’s jacket.”
“Oh. Is there something wrong with me going to LP?”
Rodney sighs. “No. Not for you at least.”
I huff, my dramatics probably feeding into whatever stereotype he has of LP students. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing, forget it.” He turns toward me, his expression blank. “Ready to move down yet?”
I survey my section, fill in a missed spot, and we shift down the wall. All the while I wonder what has gone wrong, but I’m too afraid to ask.
Chapter 9
Heat blasts me in the face as I walk through the door. I pull my gloves off and shove them into my coat pockets. The crisp autumn wind wove my long hair into a complicated snarl that I try to unwind with my fingers. I only manage to get the wispy tendrils out of my face.
Jay sits at a table for two, a steno pad and pen on the chipped Formica top. When he sees me, he jumps up and joins me at the counter, insisting he pay for my sundae.
We return to his table with our ice cream and he studies me.
“You look…” His eyes linger on my face. “…really happy.”
I roll my eyes at his raised eyebrow, as if I understand what he’s eluding too when in actuality I don’t want to know what he assumes. “I just came from Eddleton Heights.” At his quizzical expression I explain. “It’s an assisted living facility. Once a month I hang out in the community room and visit with the residents.”
“And it makes you glow?”
“That was probably the wind. But, yes, it’s a lot of fun. I love listening to their stories, getting unsolicited advice, beating them at checkers. Seeing the glow on their cheeks or a spark in their eyes. It’s a very rewarding way to spend a couple hours.”
“Why do you only go once a month then?” Jay’s already eaten down to the cone and he takes a big bite of waffle and mint chip.
“I do a lot of other volunteer work, too. I wish I could do it all, but since I can’t I segment my time across several different organizations.” I spoon up a big scoop of peanut butter chocolate ice cream and caramel topping.
Jay taps the end of his pen on the as yet bare page of his notebook. “I wonder if I should be doing a story on that instead of the contest.”
“Like you said, the kids probably won’t care either way.”
“Could I go with you when you volunteer sometime?”
I pay very close attention to the scoop I’m digging out of the bowl, so Jay won’t see the flare of panic in my eyes. As much as I would love for there to be an article in the school paper concentrating on volunteering, I’m worried that it will send Jay the wrong message if he tags along with me. Maybe I’m being paranoid.
I look up as I put the spoonful of ice cream in my mouth and I know I’m not paranoid at all. Jay’s eyes are on my lips as I pull the spoon out from between them. I swallow too loudly and drop my gaze to the pad of paper on the table. “You could, I guess, but you wouldn’t need to. I’m sure I can tell you about it. Enough for you to write an article on it at least.”
“Where else do you volunteer?”
He’s crunching away at his ice cream, but his casual posture seems intentional. I want to tell him we’d be volunteering as friends, but that seems so assuming. What if I’m wrong about what’s going on?
“All sorts of places. In the next couple of weeks, I’ll be volunteering at the humane society—but they have a long background check, so you might not want to do that just to write an article. Bekah’s Closet—which is a place girls can borrow gowns for school dances, which I’m sure you’d rather not do. Building Together…”
“Hey, that’s a good one. I’d love to help build homes.”
I force a smile. My heart pounds. I don’t know how to get out of this, so I decide I have to just ride it out. “They hold volunteer orientations at their office every Wednesday afternoon. If you go tomorrow, you can volunteer on Saturday.”
“Will you be there?”
“Mmm hmmm.” I shove another spoonful in my mouth and hope my panic isn’t showing in my eyes. When my mouth is clear of food, I ask, “Don’t you have to get approval from your editor, or something, to do this article?”
“Officially, yes, I have to run it past her. But if it isn’t controversial, she’ll be all for it.” He finishes his cone. “This’ll be fun.”
“Volunteering is very rewarding.”
He holds my gaze. “Can’t wait to find out.”
Chapter 10
My stomach is in knots when I pull up to the build site on Saturday. Which is ridiculous, since it’s only Jay. The Jay I’ve known since Kindergarten.
There aren’t as many cars parked along the road as usual because the weather is cold and threatening rain. Volunteerism always drops off during inclement weather.
As I step carefully around materials and uneven ground, I scan the site looking for him. I see a familiar caramel-colored head first and relief floods me. Things won’t feel nearly as awkward if the three of us work together today. I pick up my pace, to intercept Rod.
“Hey.” I fall into step beside him.
A stray ray of sunshine lights his eyes like a golden pool of water. “Hi, Lola.”
“Where are you working today?”
“Inside, thank God. Helping install cabinets.” He juts his chin in the direction of Talia’s house.
I bite my lip. They never need many people to help install cabinets and since I’m short, they rarely use me. “Well, I need to sign in. Maybe I’ll see you in there.”
“Okay.”
We both look over our shoulders at each other as I walk away, and it makes my heart trip. I genuinely like Rod. Sure, he’s cute and I’m attracted to him physically, but I really like him as a person. I hope I can use him as a buffer with Jay—who I’ve always really liked as a friend, too. Darn it, why did it have to get so complicated?
I find Hank in the tent, his hands wrapped around a travel mug, talking to Jay. Hank smiles when he sees me. “Here she is.”
Jay turns, a grin on his face. “My inspiration.”
“I’m not buying it. I can only be considered your inspiration if you continue to volunteer after your article is written.” I look at Hank. “Can we help in Talia’s house today?”
“Sure thing. You can help Talia and Leo with the floor. Jay here can help on cabinets. Can you introduce him to Tess? She’s in charge of the house today.”
“Absolutely.” I tell Jay about the families who will be buying the different houses as we head to the storage room to sign in and get the tools we’ll need. “I don’t know a lot about how they fund the builds to make them affordable for the families. All of that is done out of the office where you went for orientation on Wednesday.”
When we get into the house, I find Tess in the master bedroom with Talia and Leo, a volunteer who usually only shows up when we’re framing a house. She looks relieved when she sees me. “Do I get you in here today?”
I nod.
“Thank goodness. Neither of these guys has installed this kind of flooring before. You can show them how, right?”
“No problem.” I look at my co-workers for the day. “It’s really easy, but we’ll make it seem hard, so people will appreciate our efforts more.”
Talia laughs.
I place my hand on Jay’s arm. “You also get Jay. Hank said he could help with cabinets.”
Tess shakes his hand and beckons him to follow her out of the room. Feeling relieved that Jay and I won’t be working side-by-side, I turn my attention to explaining how to install laminate wood flooring.
When we’re told to break for lunch, I find Rod and Jay already sitting at a table together in the tent. I say a quick thank you to the powers that be that saved me from having to make an awkward choice of who to sit with.
“How did the morning go?” I sit next to Rod but look at Jay when I speak.
He flexes his arm. “Do I look stronger to you? Because I feel like I’ve bench-pressed 250 lbs.”
Rod laughs and nods. “Those upper cabinets are hard work.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’m too short to get assigned cabinet duty.” I suck down a juice while they share stories about cabinets sliding down the wall or almost being screwed in crooked.
Jay is a great storyteller and has all of us laughing enough to draw others to our table to listen in. It reminds me of how Mr. Whitman always draws a crowd, and I think to myself that I should invite Jay to join me next time I serve at the community center. Then I second-guess the thought, not wanting to give Jay the wrong impression. I frown and look around, surprised to find Rod watching me. He tips his head slightly, and I smile at how expressive his non-verbal cues are. After all, he spent the first few weeks I knew him communicating like that. I shake my head at him to tell him my frown was nothing serious and he raises an eyebrow in a disbelieving look. I chuckle out loud and return my attention to Jay’s story, only to find a hurt expression in his eyes.
I get up, stuff my bag under my arm, and crumple my trash in my hands. I specifically keep my expression blank, so Jay doesn’t see how much his doleful eyes bother me. Or, more accurately, how much they worry me. I’m sorry if his feelings have moved beyond friendship. Mine never will.
Rod leaves too and dumps his trash after me. He follows me out of the tent. “Don’t you want to wait for your friend?”
“He’ll find his way when he’s done entertaining the masses.” I keep my voice light.
“Didn’t you come together today? He made it sound like it.”
“Nope.” I don’t let my expression show how much that bothers me. “He’s doing a story for the school paper on volunteering and is here to experience it firsthand.” We enter Talia’s house together. He stops at the kitchen, while I continue down the hall to the second bedroom. “Enjoy your afternoon.”