Page 12

SIMON

“Thanks for helping me with this, man.” I pause to sink a screw into the stud, securing the final sheet of drywall into place. “It would’ve taken me forever to hang all this by myself.”

I would’ve figured it out, but a second set of hands makes the task infinitely easier. Helps almost as much as the lift Christian brought over for us to use on the ceiling sections.

He steps back, hands on his hips, as he surveys the work we’ve managed to get done while Myra works. “You really got these walls up quick.”

When Myra went to work yesterday—after making me breakfast—I dug into framing up the two rooms. I worked my ass off, managing to get finished right as she got home.

Like the day before, she wandered around, a plateful of dinner in one hand, looking over what I’d accomplished.

And, like the day before, I had to make her sit and relax even though she looked exhausted.

After sending the final screw home, I lay down the drywall screw gun. “Were you worried I’d lost my touch?”

I’ve done a little bit of everything over the years, and at one point worked on the same construction crew Christian did. While he decided the industry was where he wanted to stay, I wanted something a little more...interesting.

I also wanted something that would give me an excuse to escape Memphis after the life I thought I was building crumbled under me.

Christian grinned. “I did. Figured you might be over here in a scuba suit trying to weld the place together.”

“Welding in a scuba suit has made me a fuck ton of money, so I’m gonna say I made the right choice.” It also gave me space I desperately needed. Time to try to wrap my head around where I’d gone wrong.

Unfortunately, I was never quite able to figure it out.

I still don’t know what happened. Why Lenore did what she did.

The reasons she gave were so contradictory I could never line them up in a way that gave me any sort of clarity.

Was I too good for her or too overbearing?

Was it really the people around me? because I offered to give it all up and that wasn’t enough.

Making me think it wasn’t what was around me at all. It was just me she couldn’t stand.

“But is it something you can do forever?” Christian’s tone softens. “I know you’re young and healthy now, but…”

The reminder dampens a little of the good mood completing the drywall brought on. “I’m not that fucking young.”

I never thought I’d be staring down my mid-thirties as a single man. Like the rest of my brothers, I want what I’ve never had. The house, the wife, the kid. Stability, security.

Love. Acceptance. Understanding. It’s what I want to give and what I want to receive.

A decade ago I thought I had it. Believed I would be the first one in our hodgepodge of a family to prove we could stop the cycle.

Instead, I’m the last man standing alone.

“I know you well enough to know you’ve got a plan.” Christian angles a brow at me. “Or five.”

I chuckle in spite of the seriousness and sadness the conversation carries.

“You’re not wrong.” I pick up the scraps of drywall strewn across the subfloor and begin tossing them into the large plastic can sitting in the center of the room.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and when the time comes, I’ll probably do what you did and start my own business.

Train people to do what I do and contract them out across the country. ”

Like Christian guessed, I’ve planned for a handful of scenarios and a range of extremes.

I can keep the business small and simple, or expand.

Get to the point where I provide everything.

Equipment. Housing. The whole nine yards.

It would be a huge undertaking, but if I didn’t have to tackle it alone. ..

“You got an ETA on that?” Christian picks up the shop broom and works it across the floor. “Because you know we’d love for you to be around more often.”

I wanted the ETA to be years ago, but it still hasn’t happened. “Just waiting for a reason to settle down.”

I don’t tell him that could have happened anywhere.

I love my brothers, but if I found what I was looking for on the other side of the country, that’s where I would have put my future.

At one point I was hoping that was what would happen.

Memphis doesn’t hold the best memories for me, and walking away from it entirely had a certain amount of appeal.

Especially in those first years after Lenore and I split.

And I would still do that. Still go wherever I need to.

But I’m no longer hoping it won’t be Memphis.

It doesn’t haunt me the way it used to. I don’t get a pit in my stomach when I see the exit on the highway, and I’m no longer in as much of a rush to race away when it’s time to leave. This month is evidence of that.

Christian claps me on the shoulder, his hand resting firm as he gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll happen. And when it does, everything that came before will have been worth it.”

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. Knock the wind from my lungs with a discovery I haven’t yet made. They take years of struggle and frustration and narrow them to a point so small it could fit on the tip of a pencil.

The reason I’ve been so desperate to find what I’m looking for is because I want everything to matter. For all I went through to make sense. To have a purpose. And right now, it doesn’t. Right now it’s just pointless pain. Suffering for the sake of suffering.

Part of me expects the realization to be painful. Another layer of hurt to add to the ache I always carry.

But it’s motivating. Renews my determination to get what I’m after. To have what I want.

But what I want isn’t going to be easy to obtain. It will take a particular set of skills. A level of understanding and patience most men don’t have.

But I do. If everything I’ve been through has a purpose—which I want to believe it does—it’s turned me into what I need to be for the person I’m meant to be with. And from where I’m standing, there’s a person whose needs seem to align with all I bring to the table.

“I recognize that look on your face.” Christian shakes his head. “You’re planning something.”

“I’m always planning something.” It’s a deflection. One I hope keeps him from thinking too hard or trying to assemble any of the clues I’ve inadvertently dropped.

I don’t want him to see what I’m thinking. What I’m planning. What I’m feeling.

Have been feeling.

These past six months have been different. They weren’t me running away from my past or myself. I was running away for someone else. Forcing myself to keep my distance because I knew I couldn’t be trusted. I knew I would overstep and overwhelm.

And I might still do that. It’s possible there will soon be a second woman saying I’m the problem. That what I have to offer is too much. That what I want in return isn’t something they’re willing to give.

And if that’s what happens, I’ll have to leave Memphis again. But this time it will be for good. I won’t be able to come back. And I’ll be okay with that. Myra needs the people here more than I do.

“That is a fair point.” Christian doesn’t seem suspicious, and I relax a little.

“It’s hard to get anywhere when you don’t have a plan.

” And I’ve always wanted to go places. Maybe not the same kinds of places as other people, but I’ve always wanted more than I was given.

It wasn’t difficult to do considering where I came from and that the little I did have was taken from me time and time again.

“That is a valid point, my friend.” Christian checks his phone. “Speaking of getting places, I need to go so I’ll be ready to get set up for tonight.” His eyes swing my way, looking over my dirty T-shirt and jeans. “And so do you.”

I follow him to the back door, holding it open as he descends the steps. Christian stops when he reaches the bottom, turning around to shoot me a serious expression. “And try to be on time for once.”

I scoff. “I’m never late when I’m already in town.” Yeah, I’ve cut it close a few times thanks to traffic, but that was always when I was arriving the day we were scheduled to play. “Now I’m going to be early just to fucking drive you crazy while we set up.”

I don’t tell him I’d already planned to be early. If things still go as planned, Myra’s going to sing with us tonight, and I want to be at the top of my game for that. For her.

This is a big step, and I want it to be as perfect as possible.

“I’ll fucking believe that when I see it.” Christian glances to one side, eyeing Myra’s car as it pulls into the back parking spot.

“I thought you were going home?” I lean against the door frame, trying to look relaxed even though I’m annoyed Christian is lingering.

I appreciate his help, but even though she knew it was happening, I know Myra is going to feel weird about it.

And it could make her go back on her agreement to let me put in the half bath if I have the time.

And I’ll make sure I have the time.

She already doesn’t like accepting help from others—even people who consider themselves her family—and now she’s gonna be staring it right in the face.

“I am.” Christian gives Myra a wave as she parks, then turns away, heading across Tate’s backyard and into his own.

I make my way down the steps, meeting Myra as she gets out of her car. As I expected, her eyes are on the back of Christian’s house as he goes in his back door.

“Have a good day?” My question drags her attention to me, her blue eyes slowly finding their way to my face.

Myra gives me a little smile. “Not bad.” Her gaze flicks to Christian’s house before coming back to where I stand. “What about yours?”

I’m struck by how close this moment is to what I’ve been searching for, and it takes me a second to answer. “Productive.” I take the bigger of her two bags, slinging it over my shoulder. “Want to come see what we got done?”