Page 6 of Room to Spare (The Fixer Upper #2)

Jules rubbed their hands over their face, trying to push away the panic that threatened to creep in.

The air was thick with the scent of grass and woodsmoke, grounding them even as their thoughts threatened to spiral.

They needed a plan—a real one. Not just the lie they’d fed their parents about having leads on housing.

The truth was, Jules had been coasting on the comfort of home, on the safety net their parents provided, but now that net was being pulled out from under them.

Their mind drifted to Brew & Barrel, the place that had become a second home of sorts.

It was a small comfort, knowing they’d be heading there soon.

Sam would be there, with her endless patience and knack for seeing through Jules’s bullshit.

If there was anyone who could help them untangle this mess, it was her.

With a deep breath, Jules pushed themselves off the porch railing. As they made their way inside to get ready for work, a flicker of determination began to take root. They would figure this out. They had to.

Later, as they drove the familiar roads into town, Jules tried to focus on the possibilities rather than the uncertainties.

Maybe this was the push they needed to find their own place, to carve out their own corner of Maple Hill.

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, like the first brushstroke on a blank canvas.

As the bar came into view, Jules felt a small sense of relief. The evening shift awaited, a chance to lose themselves in the rhythm of dinner service, to find a moment’s peace amid the chaos in their head.

Jules hung their patchwork messenger bag on a hook in the hallway before grabbing a clean apron. Their shift started in just a few minutes, and now more than ever, they needed to give the best service possible so their tips didn’t suffer.

The silver lining was that they were working with Sam tonight. She always managed to find a balance between making Jules laugh and telling them when they needed to get their head out of their backside. Tonight, she’d have her work cut out for her with the latter because Jules simply couldn’t focus.

“You’ve got that face,” Sam said as she motioned for them to hand her another lemon. She worked on slicing it while Jules started filling the cherries and olives.

“What face?” Jules forced a smile.

Sam rolled her eyes, obviously not buying it. “The ‘my life just did a backflip and didn’t land it’ face.”

Jules gave her a tired smile. Maybe talking about it would help them get through the night without obsessing. “My parents told me this morning that they’re selling the farm so they can move somewhere warmer. I know it’s for the best because my mom’s miserable during the winter, but…”

Sam didn’t flinch. Just handed them a cup of clear soda and set a hand over theirs. “You okay?”

“Not even a little.” Jules sighed. “I need to find a place. Like, now.”

“You’re not going with them?” Sam seemed surprised by this.

Jules shook their head. “They said I could, but how long am I going to let them take care of me? Maybe this is a sign from the universe that it’s time for me to grow up and get a place of my own.”

“Good luck with that.” There was only a hint of sarcasm in Sam’s tone. “Not sure if you realize it, but it’s nearly impossible to find a rental in town. Whenever something’s listed, it’s scooped up in less than a day.”

“You’re not making me feel better,” Jules pointed out. On some level, they’d known there wasn’t much in Maple Hill, but since they’d blurted out they had leads, they weren’t about to give up now.

Jules took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the conversation with Sam.

The bar was beginning to fill, the usual hum of chatter and clinking glasses rising as patrons settled into their evening routines.

Jules focused on the rhythm of the work, the familiar motions of pouring drinks and swapping banter with the regulars.

It was a welcome distraction, a temporary reprieve from the turbulent thoughts swirling in their mind.

But even amid the noise, the conversation with Sam kept replaying, a constant reminder of the uncertainty that loomed over them.

The idea of finding a new place seemed daunting, like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Sam was right—rentals in Maple Hill were scarce, something they’d realized earlier when they were checking for available units.

Despite the odds, Jules couldn’t shake the feeling that something would work out. It had to.

As they poured another round of drinks, the door swung open, and in walked Luke and Keaton, all easy charm and worn flannel.

Luke’s greeting was casual, but Keaton’s gaze locked on Jules as if he still hadn’t figured out how to feel about them.

Instead of heading back to their normal booth, they wandered to the bar.

Normally, they looked forward to Thursdays because the men were a welcome change from some of the country boys who came in most nights.

Tonight, they dreaded having to put on a brave face.

“Hey, Sam. Jules,” Luke greeted them as he slid onto a stool. Jules’s face flushed under Keaton’s discerning gaze. They resisted the urge to fidget. “Everything good over here? You’re not your usual bubbly self.”

How in the hell had Luke figured that out? Jules thought they were doing a decent job acting like it was just another normal day, as far as the customers knew.

“We were talking about how shitty the housing market is in town, unless you have a quarter-million to spend. Which Jules doesn’t,” Sam blurted out.

Jules glared at her. The last thing they wanted was Keaton having even more reason to think their life was a mess.

Luke nudged Keaton, whose nose was buried in his phone. “You hear that? Maybe you were onto something after all.”

“What’s that?” Keaton tucked his phone in his back pocket, turning his attention back to them.

“Jules and Sam were discussing the lack of rental properties,” Luke repeated.

“You’re looking for a place?” Keaton asked, sitting a bit straighter on his stool.

His broad shoulders strained against his button-up shirt as he leaned forward, those rich brown eyes—flecked with gold around the edges—focusing on Jules with unexpected intensity.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, a testament to the renovation work he did with his hands.

A hint of dark stubble shadowed his sharp jawline, and when he ran his fingers through that perpetually tousled dark hair, Jules felt their mouth go dry.

Good lord, Jules did not need Keaton looking even more scrumptious.

Jules nodded, their fingers nervously tracing the edge of the bar. “Yeah. Nothing yet, but I’m just starting to look.”

“I might have something,” he said, his deep voice dropping a notch lower. “It’s not ready yet—give me a few months—but I’m working on some units. I bought a building out on Chatham Street that I’m hoping to rehab.”

Hope flared like a little spark, quickly doused by reality’s cold splash. If the farm took time to get on the market, months may not be an issue. If their parents found a buyer sooner, that’d still leave Jules without a place to land.

“That might be longer than I’ve got to try and find a place, but thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.” Their voice came out steadier than they felt, especially with Keaton’s gaze still fixed on them, searching.

“Well, if you need me, you know where to find me.” Keaton’s lips curved into the hint of a smile as he held Jules’s gaze a beat longer than necessary. Something electric passed between them—a current of unspoken tension that made the air feel suddenly thinner.

Despite a strong start to the evening, the bar had been a ghost town since the dinner rush cleared out.

The clatter of chairs being flipped onto tables marked the end of another shift.

Jules wiped down the booths with slow, deliberate strokes, lost in thought.

The steady rhythm was comforting, a small distraction from the chaos in their mind.

“Hey,” Sam called from behind the bar, where she was restocking the coolers. “Want to split some fries before we head out? Jamie left a basket under the warmer for us.”

Jules hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” They needed the company tonight more than they wanted to admit, even if it meant more of Sam trying to problem-solve for them.

They settled at the bar, the fries nestled in a red-and-white checkered paper boat between them. The silence stretched, comfortable and familiar. Jules picked at a fry, the golden crispness a small comfort.

“You know,” they began, eyes fixed on the half-empty basket, “I always thought everything would fall into place once I settled back here. Like, this was supposed to be it. My chance to finally grow roots.” Their voice was barely above a whisper, the words raw and unfiltered.

“Living at my parents’ place was never supposed to be permanent, but I love it out there.

And now, it feels like I’m caught between two shitty choices. ”

Sam nibbled on a fry, her expression thoughtful.

“I get it. I mean, I came back here thinking it would be temporary. Just a pit stop before I figured out my next move. But then life happens, and suddenly, you’re right where you least expected to be.

” She shrugged, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips.

“Sometimes, you have to make peace with where you’re planted, even if it wasn’t what you planned. ”

Jules let out a soft, humorless laugh. “I just wish I knew what I was supposed to be doing. I mean, the farm’s always been there, you know?

Like, no matter what happened, I could always go back to it.

And now…” Their voice trailed off, the weight of the realization settling heavily in their chest. Before long, the farm would never be there for them again.

Sure, Jules could drive past it, but they’d never load up their bag and hike out to the far corner of the lot to let Mother Nature be their muse.

Sam reached over, her hand warm and solid against Jules’s. “Listen, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, and you’ve got everyone here. We’ll figure it out together. That’s what family—found or otherwise—is for, right?”

Jules blinked back the sting of tears, nodding slowly. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s just hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel right now.”

Sam squeezed their hand, her grip reassuring. “It’ll come. Maybe not overnight, but it will. And when it does, you’ll be ready for it. If worse comes to worst, you can crash on my couch until Keaton gets done remodeling that building.”

“God, can you imagine having him as my landlord?” Jules buried their head in their hands. “I’d make a fool of myself every time I needed to call to have something fixed.”

“On the bright side, if everything’s new, you shouldn’t have anything falling apart,” Sam offered. “And if something needed repair, at least you’d have eye candy to look at.”

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet filling the space with a comforting presence.

The dim lighting of Brew & Barrel cast soft shadows around them, the scent of hops and old wood lingering in the air.

It was a moment of peace amid the storm, a reminder that even in uncertainty, there was still hope.

Jules let out a long breath, the tension in their shoulders easing just a bit. “Thanks, Sam. Really.”

“Anytime,” Sam replied, her smile warm and genuine. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything better to do than keep you in line.”

Jules chuckled, the sound light and easy. “Good to know I’ve got someone watching my back.”

Sam grinned, popping another fry into her mouth. “Always.”

As they finished eating, the weight of the day began to lift, just a little. Jules knew there were still challenges ahead, but with Sam by their side, it felt a little less daunting. Together, they tidied up the last of the mess and turned out the lights.

When they finally stepped into the cool night air, Jules paused on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath that filled their lungs with the scent of spring, earth, and possibility.

The streetlights cast pools of amber across the empty town square, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, breaking the stillness.

“You know what?” Jules said, turning to Sam with sudden clarity. “Maybe this is exactly what I need—not what I wanted, but what I need.”

Sam bumped their shoulder gently. “That’s the spirit. Sometimes the universe has better plans than we do.”

Jules nodded, feeling something unfurl in their chest—a quiet determination they hadn’t felt since returning to Maple Hill. Maybe losing the farm wasn’t an ending but a beginning. Maybe Keaton’s offer wasn’t just a lifeline but a doorway.

“I think I’m going to call Keaton tomorrow,” they decided, the words feeling right as soon as they left their mouth. “Maybe those apartments will be ready sooner than he thinks, or he might know of something else available.”

As they walked to their cars, Jules felt a flicker of something they hadn’t all day: hope. It was a fragile thing, but it was there, nestled amid the uncertainty, a promise of brighter days to come.