I followed him out the front door, wondering exactly what money he thought he’d use to pay for anything when his checking account barely had a few dollars left.
We skirted around the bright-red dumpster in Dad’s driveway and headed into the backyard, where Beckett was at work with a chainsaw, cutting apart the destroyed deck.
He wore safety goggles, work boots, jeans, and a T-shirt that was already clinging to his back in the early morning heat. He had his baseball hat turned backward so the brim would be out of his way, and his biceps flexed as he cut through a board, the muscles on his back rippling with effort. He was sexy as sin, and all I could do was stare. Every warning bell I’d told myself to listen to disappeared as heat shot straight to my core.
Thankfully, before Beckett caught me drooling, Vader distracted me by galloping up from the river with a stick in his mouth and his tail wagging. He dropped his prize at my feet and shook, the water spraying all over me.
I laughed. “What do you got there?”
He barked and nudged the stick with his nose. I picked it up and threw it as far as I could, which wasn’t far. It ended near the old chicken coop. The coop was in worse shape than the house itself, all but collapsing in on itself after nearly eleven years of being ignored.
Beckett turned off the saw, pulled his goggles down below his chin, and said, “You start throwing that stick for him, and you’ll spend all day at it.”
He tossed a blackened board into a pile he already had going.
Dad grabbed it with his good hand, balancing it over his shoulder and heading for the front yard and the dumpster. I watched him, worried. His apology last night had simultaneously soothed old hurts and torn them back open. Just knowing he felt bad about the way he’d left us to handle life without him was a salve. But it didn’t mean I wanted him to sacrifice hishealth to prove he wasn’t doing it again.
Vader came bounding back, proudly presenting me with the same stick. Beckett intercepted, taking the stick and throwing it way past the coop and the tree swing.
“That’s it, dog. We’re done. Go chase squirrels,” he said.
Vader took off down the slope leading to the river.
“And don’t bring back another cat!”
The dog barked, but it sounded like a laugh.
When I went to grab one of the piled-up boards, Beckett halted me. “You got gloves?”
I shook my head.
“I figured. I put a couple extra pairs over there.”
He waved his hand to a folding table where he’d set up an orange water cooler, a stack of cups, and some other tools. Beckett had been hard at work this morning while I’d been hiding in my room.
Another round of guilt hit me.
“Thank you,” I choked out. When he started to walk away, I put a hand on his arm, saying, “Beckett…about yesterday.”
He shook his head. “We were both out of sorts. Let’s just leave it.”
The knot returned to my throat. My life felt like I was mid-pirouette on Titan’s back, and if I took my eyes off the horizon for one second, I’d fall flat on my ass. I wasn’t sure I could pull any of this off—helping Dad or Beckett—without losing myself in the process.
But at least the manual labor would keep me from obsessing over it.
Beckett went back to the saw, and I grabbed a couple of gloves and met Dad as he came back around the house, handing him a pair. He took them with a thanks, but then struggled to get one over his bandaged hand. When he winced, I took it from him to help.
“You really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said quietly. “You’re still recovering.”
Dad was somber, steel in his tone as he said, “If you’re here, then I’m here.”
I blinked back the tears that threatened and whispered, “Okay.”
We spent the morning tearing apart the burned porch, sorting what little could be saved and tossing the rest. Vader kept sprinting between the river and the house, proudly delivering one soggy, pathetic “gift” after another—a filthy tennis ball, an empty soda can, even an old fishing pole. Each new offering made Beckett swear under his breath, though the corners of his mouth twitched like he almost wanted to laugh.
By the time we were down to the joists, the sun was straight overhead,and the heat was almost punishing. Even with water breaks, Dad had gone pale and shiny with sweat, and my shoulders ached.
“I think you two are done for the day,” Beckett said, frowning as my dad wiped his forehead and leaned heavily against the side of the house.