Page 41 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

Jules’s chest tightened. “Both, I think. I’ve never really been on my own.

Not really.” It felt risky to say it aloud.

“I need to know I can do it. That I’m not just…

someone who floats from their parents to a partner, never landing anywhere real.

I don’t want Keaton to feel like I’m just there because I’m scared to be alone.

I need to know he wants me for me, not just because it’s easy. ”

Ollie’s expression softened, no judgment in his gaze. “Have you ever noticed how you only doubt yourself right before you do something amazing?”

Jules huffed, picking at the sidewalk. “At least I’m consistent.”

Ollie grinned, shoving his shoulder into Jules’s. “Or maybe you’re scared. That’s not a bad thing, Jules. If you weren’t worried, I’d worry.”

Jules twisted the paper cup in their hands, nerves jangling beneath their skin. “But what if things change with Keaton? What if I move out and we drift apart? What if being together only works when we’re together every night?”

Ollie was quiet. He let the question live in the air before answering.

“Or what if you move out and realize you’re even closer?

Sometimes space lets you see what you really have.

You taught me that, you know. I always thought I needed to be in the middle of things to matter.

Turns out, I like watching from the edges sometimes.

It gives you a better view of what’s going on in your life. I think you could use that right now.”

Jules bit the inside of their cheek, thumb hovering over their phone.

The urge to text Keaton again, just to see his name flash on the screen, to know how his day was going, was strong, but they didn’t give in.

Not yet. Today, they needed to prove to themselves they could stand on their own, even if just for a few more hours.

It could be a small glimpse of what was to come, of the life they wanted without needing someone else to help them fill space.

Eventually, things got busy enough at the bakery that Ollie had to go back inside.

Jules didn’t understand the arrangement he had with Megan, but they supposed they didn’t need to.

It seemed like Ollie lived his life in this casual state where he got to do whatever he wanted when he wanted, and everyone else went along with it.

It felt like the complete opposite of Jules’s own life at times.

Jules was just hitting their stride—brush cutting a clean arc of turquoise across the sky—when it happened.

A sharp gust of wind caught the drop cloth, flipping it right into one of the open paint cups.

Cerulean blue spilled down the wall in a haphazard line, right over the section Jules had just finished.

For a second, Jules froze. The mural stared back, a streak of blue slicing through their careful sunrise.

Panic hit first, rigid and cold. Their instinct was to mutter something sharp, to scold themself for leaving a cup they weren’t using open on the scaffolding.

A year ago, this would have wrecked them.

They’d have packed up, convinced the mural was ruined.

Ollie ran out the side door of the bakery, likely to make sure the clanging and crashing noises weren’t Jules plummeting to their death.

They stopped short when they saw what had happened.

“Well, that’s one way to draw the eye,” he said, deadpan.

He put down his water bottle and leaned against the scaffold, eyeing the blue streak.

“Some artists spend years trying to get that level of drama.”

Jules stared, brush still in midair. “It’s ruined,” they said, voice thin. “I spent all morning getting that quadrant just right. I’ll have to let it dry and try painting over it next week.”

Ollie wiped the icing from his fingers. “Or you could use nature as inspiration and figure out how to work it into the painting. Collaboration with Mother Nature.”

Jules let out a shaky laugh. “That’s not in the plan, Ollie. I had it all mapped out.”

They climbed down from their perch, needing a moment to regroup and figure out how they could save their work so it wasn’t a blight every time they saw it until next weekend.

Their shoulders slumped, already mentally checking out for the day.

They couldn’t be upset by how much they’d accomplished, even if it wasn’t as much as they’d hoped for.

Ollie nudged their shoulder. “You remember that painting with the purple splotch your mom said looked like a bruise? You turned it into a flower. This is just a bigger version. If you wanted perfect, you’d use vinyl decals.”

Jules exhaled, fighting the urge to be melodramatic. But something had changed. From this angle, they could see how the blue might not belong there, but it wasn’t as catastrophic as they’d feared. Maybe they were just tired of being scared of every mistake.

“Maybe…” Jules squinted at the wall. “Maybe it could be a ribbon of some sort. I can come up with a message to put on it as a reminder to people that life happens between best-laid plans or something like that. Can you clean up the bottom and keep it from turning into messy streaks while I climb up and get the top?”

“On it.” Ollie moved quickly, grabbing the stepladder resting against the wall.

He dabbed the base while Jules feathered out the top.

They worked together—Ollie freewheeling, Jules methodical—until the streak blended in, less an error than a new idea.

The mural suddenly had movement it hadn’t had before.

Jules climbed down long enough to grab a darker blue to create the outline that would take it from smear to something intentional.

“See?” Ollie grinned, blue smeared on his wrist. “Happy accidents. Thank the wind.”

“Okay, Bob Ross.” Jules rolled their eyes, but the tightness in their chest eased. “Maybe I’ll paint a little tornado in the corner. Give credit where it’s due.”

They stepped back, studying the wall. The mural looked different—less controlled, more alive. Jules almost liked it better this way. They laughed, surprised at the sound. “Actually…I think that is what I needed in that space so it wasn’t just the sky.”

Ollie nodded. “Way better. And now you’ve got a story. People love those.” He held up his phone. “Hold still, this goes on the progress blog.” He snapped a quick photo of Jules with paint across their brow, mural behind them.

Jules didn’t duck away. They even threw a thumbs-up, letting the moment land. It felt good not to hide the mistake, to let it be part of the day.

Ollie scrolled through the photos, laughing. “You look like you just survived an art battle. Caption?”

Jules thought. “Sometimes mistakes aren’t the end.

They’re just the next brushstroke.” It sounded cheesy, but it was the truth: letting go, even when every instinct wanted control.

Funny how this was the one area in their life where they thought everything should have structure.

Art was messy, and they needed to remember that’s what had drawn them in originally.

Ollie typed, then gave Jules a side hug. “You’re getting better at this.”

Jules nudged him back, quiet but proud. “Yeah. I think I am.”

They were debating whether to keep working or call it a day when their phone buzzed in their pocket.

Do you want help? We’re done making the punch lists and Luke has to head out for dinner with Noah.

Jules looked around. Really, there wasn’t that much to do.

They were much more organized working in the open air than they were in the privacy of their own space.

And if Keaton was done for the day, no way was Jules going to keep working.

They wanted to spend every minute possible together before moving day.

Thanks, but I think I’m good. Start thinking about what you want for dinner.

They hurried through getting everything gathered and stashed in the small shed Megan had given them access to. With Ollie’s help, it only took about ten minutes until no one could tell they’d even been there.

“You heading to Brew & Barrel tonight?” Ollie asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Jules shook their head. They felt awkward hanging out there on nights they’d typically be working.

Jamie had been awesome about cutting back their hours while they were focused on the mural, so it felt wrong taking up space there when someone else covered their shift.

“No, I think I’m going to see if Keaton wants to head up to Afton.

If I’m going to move into a place of my own, I’m going to need furniture, sheets, towels, all of it. ”

“I wouldn’t get too much stuff. I have a feeling it won’t be long before you and Mr. Sexy are living together again.

” Ollie waggled his eyebrows. “I think the biggest item you need to worry about is a comfortable bed that’s big enough for the two of you.

Use the stuff your parents left behind for you and save some money. ”

That had been the plan, but now that Jules had resolved to make the most of being on their own for the first time in their life, they wanted everything to be perfect.