The basement was cool and dim, the water heater ancient and temperamental. I'd fixed it twice in the past year alone. Cal needed to replace the damn thing, but he was stubborn about spending money on himself.
I set down my tools and got to work.
It took me twenty minutes to find the problem. Sediment buildup. Easy fix. I drained the tank, cleaned it out, and had everything running again before nine.
Now was the time to pack up my tools, say goodbye, and get the hell out of there before I did something stupid.
Instead, I went upstairs.
Daisy was on the back porch, curled up in one of Cal's old wooden chairs, book in her lap, coffee cup refilled. She didn't look up when I stepped outside.
"Fixed," I said.
"Thanks."
Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to move, to leave, and to put distance between us before the cracks in my control got any wider.
But I’m a sucker for punishment.
"How long are you staying?" I asked, wanting to hear her voice again.
She looked up. Her eyes were the same. Brown with flecks of gold, the color of whiskey in sunlight. They used to look at me like I hung the moon.
Now they looked at me like I was a stranger.
"A few months," she said. "Maybe longer. Why, is that a problem?"
"No problem."
More silence. The tension was unbearable. I could feel it pressing against my skin, hot and tight, demanding release.
"Daisy."
"Don't." She cut me off, her voice sharp. "Whatever you're about to say, don't. We don't need to do this. You're here to fix things for Cal. I'm here to get my life together. We don't need to be friends. We don't need to be anything."
The words were designed to hurt.
They worked.
"Got it," I said.
I turned and let myself out the front door without looking back.
My truck was waiting in the driveway. I threw my toolbox in the bed and climbed behind the wheel. I sat there for a second, breathing hard, hands shaking with everything I couldn't say.
She wanted nothing to do with me. Fair enough. I'd earned that.
But I wasn't going to disappear either.
She was back in Hollow Peak. And whether she liked it or not, our paths were going to cross.
When they did, I'd be ready.
I started the truck and drove away.
I didn't look in the rearview mirror.
If I had, I might have seen her standing at the window, watching me go.