Page 20

OVER THE NEXT week, Adam started leaving little notes for me whenever he visited the workshop.

I pretended not to see where he put them so I didn’t have to try to read them in front of him.

I figured he thought I might be embarrassed by some of the things he wrote in there, but I wasn’t.

I loved that he was happy and that he liked being with me and that his notes seemed to imply that he was falling for me—I felt the same.

Just, I didn’t want him to know how much I struggled to read, which felt like a huge backward step emotionally.

I’d worked a lot of years coming to terms with the fact that my dyslexia didn’t mean there was anything wrong with me, only that my brain was wired a little differently than most people’s.

But, come on, he was a writer . The only thing that would have been more awkward was if he was also allergic to sawdust.

On Friday night, I invited Adam to Lucy’s Bar for the weekly dinner with the guys.

We were the first ones to arrive, already sitting in the booth when Conor appeared.

He didn’t say anything about the way we were sitting next to each other this time, but his eyebrows lifted briefly when he saw our clasped hands resting on the table.

He eased himself into the booth across from us. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” I said, feeling my face heat.

“That was a hell of a Founders Day,” he said.

“It’s all everyone is talking about,” I teased. “It’s like, ‘Did you guys hear that Dallas Blade paid big dollars for Conor at the bachelor auction?’ It’s big news, Conor. You’re like a band groupie now.”

He glowered. “I was talking about the fire.”

“Nobody else is,” I said.

He snorted.

Haider was next to arrive, his smile not as bright as usual, even though it was obvious he was trying.

I knew that Phillip Brauning was on his way back to Europe.

The fact that Haider wasn’t happier about it meant that clearly more had happened between them than he’d been willing to share with me at first, and I couldn’t blame him for that after how I’d reacted the last time.

But we’d caught up the day after Founders Day when I’d gone into town.

I’d detoured to meet Haider out by the old bridge, and we’d hashed things out while we’d failed to catch skippers in the cold stream.

I was glad when Haider sat next to me and knocked his shoulder against mine.

“Hey,” I said.

He took note of mine and Adam’s hands, and his expression did something complicated before it landed back on a smile. “Hey.”

Sam and Ben arrived last, sliding into the booth to sit beside Conor.

I noticed Adam give Ben a cautious look, but I didn’t think too much about it.

Pretty soon, with drinks all round, we were catching each other up on last week’s news, whether it had made the group chat or not.

Conor got a lot of ribbing over the bachelor auction, and we speculated on whether or not he was now internet famous for saving a rock star from a fire.

And then publicly yelling at him. It was definitely the most interesting thing to happen in Caldwell Crossing in years, and I had the feeling we’d be teasing him about it for just as long.

We also talked about Founders Day, and I was pleased that Sam and Haider had done well with sales.

They both had a different business model than mine—I just made whatever I had the time to make and packed up when I sold out.

Both Sam and Haider had to try to figure out how many people might be coming and exactly how much stock they thought they would need.

They had stores they could sell any leftover stock at later, but it was a whole different way of doing things than I was used to and a whole extra layer of complication that I was glad I didn’t have to deal with.

We were all technically small businesses, but mine was definitely a lot smaller than theirs.

It suited me though. I’d always liked working on my own.

The server brought out the appetizers we’d ordered, setting the plates down where they were within easy reach. There was a brief lull in the conversation as we all dug in—I went straight for the pork buns—and then we picked up again.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the four musketeers,” said a voice, and I glanced over to see a man standing at the end of the booth, wearing a broad grin.

“Holy shit!” Conor said. “Mr. Carver!”

It had been a while since I’d seen our old high school shop teacher in person, but he looked the same as he always had.

He might have had a few more lines around his eyes and gray in his hair, but he still had the fiery glint in his eye of a man who could control a workshop full of kids with just a stare.

Probably a handy skill when it came to a mix of teenagers with poor impulse control and power tools.

“Good to see you boys,” he said, tucking his thumbs into the belt of his jeans the way he used to when he addressed the class, like a cowboy. “Ryan, I was going to call you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You were?”

Mr. Carver nodded. “I’d like to chat with you about one of my kids this year.

A good kid, struggling academically. An absolute magician with a lathe though.

” He rapped his knuckles on the end of the table.

“But you boys are having a night out. I won’t take up any more of your time.

I’ll phone you next week, if that’s okay. ”

“Okay,” I said, my stomach swooping. “Sure.”

Mr. Carver gave us a wave and continued on to his table.

“What do you think that’s about?” Haider asked. “Are you going to get an apprentice?”

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m self-taught. I don’t have proper qualifications. There’s this whole process for apprentices and journeymen and masters. I don’t have any of that.”

“Yeah, but your pieces are amazing,” Haider said. “You don’t need qualifications to see that. Plus, your reputation is worth more than any piece of paper. You set your own prices, Ry, and people line up to pay them. Well, except for birdhouses. You really undercharge for those.”

I forced a laugh, even though my stomach was tying itself in knots. “I don’t think I’d be a good teacher.”

I looked around the booth, but nobody seemed to want to agree with me on that.

“Haider’s right,” Adam said and squeezed my hand. “Your work is incredible, and anyone who got to learn from you would recognize it was a hell of an opportunity, as well as a hell of a privilege.”

“Plus, you wouldn’t have to sweep your own sawdust up,” Sam said with a grin.

He was clearly trying to lighten the mood, but there was a concerned look in his eye.

My friends all knew exactly why I was uncomfortable with the idea, and it wasn’t only the thought of a stranger coming into my space.

Shit, I couldn’t even do my own accounts without Haider checking them.

How was I supposed to figure out someone’s wages?

And as much as I wanted to pay it forward because of the kindness and patience Mr. Carver had shown me at school, he should have remembered that too.

Except, maybe he had? And maybe I was jumping the gun here.

He hadn’t said he wanted me to take on an apprentice, after all.

Maybe he just wanted me to go give the kid a pep talk or something.

I was probably making mountains out of molehills.

“It’s probably not that at all,” I said. “Hell, maybe the kid just needs access to a workshop outside of school hours or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Conor said. “Probably.”

I got the impression they didn’t agree with me again, but I let it go, because this wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have in a public place or in front of Adam. “Uh, should we order some sliders for the table?”

“Great idea,” Conor said.

“I’m having a burger,” Sam said. “I can’t have a slider then a burger.”

“You can,” Conor said. “There are no rules.”

“Why don’t we get sliders and some more potato skins?” Ben suggested.

“And I’m paying,” I said. “I made more than I thought on Founders Day.”

“Well, I won’t argue with a free meal!” Haider said with a laugh. He knocked his shoulder against mine again, the way he’d done since we were kids. Just a silent hey, I’m here, I got your back.

I tried not to think too much about what Mr. Carver had said while we ate, but between my mood, Haider’s obvious attempt to pretend he wasn’t upset that Brauning had gone, and Conor’s weird shiftiness whenever someone brought up Dallas Blade, the vibe of the night was slightly off.

Adam didn’t seem to notice though, which was good.

I wouldn’t have wanted him to assume it was about him, or us.

And maybe those weird off-key moments were so tiny that someone new to the group, someone who hadn’t been listening to our back and forth for the last twenty years, didn’t notice them.

“Same time next week?” I asked as I left bills on the table to cover our meals.

The guys all nodded, and we made our way outside to where we’d parked.

Conor headed off first, then Sam and Ben, but Haider lingered a little, ostensibly checking something on his phone.

“Cupid?” I called out, and his head whipped around. “You okay?”

He nodded slowly as I closed the space between us.

“I’m sorry I was a dick about Brauning,” I said, even though I didn’t regret what I’d charged him for the roses at Founders Day. “I’m sorry you’re upset he’s gone.”

“He’s just not what you’d expect,” Haider said in a soft voice. Then his mouth twitched. “Which is lucky, because you think he’s the worst .”

“Yeah.” I winced. “I really do.”

Haider laughed and hugged me. Hard. I hugged him back. “You curmudgeon, you.”

“Nobody uses that word nowadays.”

“I just did.” He squeezed my ribs a final time before letting me go. “You’d make an excellent mentor, by the way, if that’s why Mr. Carver was telling you about that kid.”

I was sure my face told him exactly what I thought of that.