My teeth grind.“I don’t like media.”
He whistles low, amused.“Riiight.”
A gust of wind sweeps across the roof, cold enough to cut through my jacket, and I steady myself against it, hammer in hand, pulse drumming harder than my exertion deserves.
Of course, Kellen would zero in on the thing—or more likewoman—I’m trying not to think about.
“Eyes up, Coach,” Kellen needles, enjoying this.“Roof’s not the place to daydream about your love life.”
“Fuck off.”
He laughs, loud and unbothered, while Oliver huffs out something close to amusement, gaze still on the rope.
I let the rhythm of the work block out anything that doesn’t talk back or look at me with intense blue eyes that make me feel too vulnerable.
The morning wears on until sweat slicks the back of my neck despite the cold and Kellen’s off-key humming grates against the quiet in my head.
Some time later, Oliver straightens, stretching his back until it pops with a dull grunt.“Break.”
He heads for the ladder, and Kellen doesn’t argue, trailing him down to the ground.I stay for a beat longer on the ridge, staring out over the property.Everything looks small from up here—house, barn, yard.If only life were that simple.
By the time I get down, Oliver is leaning against the porch railing, guzzling a bottle of water.
“Kellen inside?”I motion at the door, and he nods.
The purr of an engine cuts through the quiet, followed by a metallic flash as a car turns into the driveway.
Buchanan.
The car door clicks shut, and she stands by her small SUV, blonde hair falling loose around her face, cheeks flushed pink and lips glossy.The sight of her on my property knocks my breath sideways.
Last night slams into me in jagged pieces—her hurt, my anger, the way I blamed her for stepping up when I had no clue what to do.Shame trips hard over irritation, the two tangling until I can’t tell them apart.
Now is my chance to make things right.Yet one thing keeps floating to the surface of my mind: Why is she here?
My pulse spikes, rough and uneven.
Across the yard, she pauses to take in Oliver and me on the porch before starting toward us.Behind me, Oliver straightens, while I’m rooted to the spot.The truth hits hard—I’m not sure if I want to go to her or turn around and bolt.
Tension wraps around her shoulders with each step closer to the house, and I’m not ready for this.Not her, not now.Oliver glances between us, sensing the shift in the air, and offers her a quick wave.
He excuses himself with a nod toward the house, holding up his phone.“Wren.”
I stiffen despite the relief at no longer having an audience.
She fidgets with the strap of her bag and lifts her chin as if to hide the unease in her gaze.“I don’t understand what went wrong last night, but we need to work together.”
I force my hands onto my hips, searching for anything to ground the sudden spike of nerves.Even though I need to make things right, she shouldn’t be here, showing up at my house on a weekend.We’re not friends.
“You didn’t need to come all the way out here.”
“I did.”She steps closer.“As much as I’d like to stay out of your life, I can’t.We have to be on the same page for this story.”
Awareness prickles at the back of my neck.She’s right.“You could’ve called.”
She hesitates.“Really?And how was I supposed to do that?Go through Ginny to work things out?In case you forgot, I don’t have your number.Besides, even if I did, I didn’t think a phone call would fix this.”
Her words land in the quiet, too honest and too bare.Of course she doesn’t have my number.That was intentional—my line in the sand when this whole profile thing started.