Page 103 of Puck Your Friend

She nods. The last of her spasms fading as I curl around her and let her breathe.

I’m so thankful I can call her mine, ours. Soon, the world will know that she belongs to us and we her.

Chapter 20

The Nest smells different without her in it.

It’s empty for now. It’s time to make it hers and not just a room we kept just in case. First, I’m going to paint the far wall where the bed will go. The fast dry paint shouldn’t take too long, and then I’ll build out her bed.

I double-check the swatches she taped up yesterday. Pale mushroom, soft teal, eggshell with a blush undertone.

Today is about showing her she never has to earn care from us. We’ll give it freely.

I push the roller up the wall in slow, even strokes. My shoulder finds a rhythm. Pressure, lift. Re-wet, drag. The primed wall disappears one teal strip at a time.

I’ll paint the rest of the room with her,so she feels like she took part in decorating after the bed is made. I just need this part done first. The bed shouldn’t take long.

Finishing the wall, I leave the paint to dry and go to the woodpile, wiping down the frame boards one last time.The pieces lay spread in clean rows across the floor. I check each board twice. Clean grooves and the corners marked. The bolts and dowels are laid out in order on the folded drop cloth.

It’ll take up nearly half the room. That’s the point. The nest comes first. Everything else can work around it.

I’m tightening the first corner mount when soft footsteps pad down the hall behind me. I glance over my shoulder.

Frankie leans against the doorframe, curls messy, Ford’s shirt slipping off one shoulder. She clears her throat. “What are you up to?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Building the frame for your new mattress. Sorry I woke you.”

She shakes her head as she steps away from the door and comes further into the room. “You didn’t wake me. I was doom scrolling and trying to work up the energy to move.”

Her gaze falls to the pile of lumber. “When you said you’d build a new nest frame, I didn’t think you meant from scratch. I was thinking a cheap Omega Deco frame. Where did you learn to do this?”

I lower my wrench. “You’re not getting a cheap bed. Not when I can build something of quality.”

I finish tightening the bolt. First corner leg done. “My dad’s a carpenter. He had me work with him every summer after camp. He helped me draw up the specs and provided the wood. I cut, sanded, and stained it myself. I’ve been working on it all week between practice and while you were out with the others.”

She perks up with an energy I haven’t seen since right after her first heat. “Mine, too. Well, my grandpa not dad. He also taughtme everything he knew until he passed when I was ten. I still remember sanding boards with him out in his shop.”

Frankie kneels beside a beam near the center of the room, fingers tracing the smooth edge. “Can I help?”

I hadn’t planned on her lifting or doing much today. I’m about to tell her to go relax and I’ll get her when I’m done, but she looks up before I can answer, brows lifted in challenge. “I’m not fragile, Wes.”

There’s no way I can tell her no now.

I nod once. “We can start with the legs. I’ve got one done already. You want to take that stack?”

Frankie grabs a matching board without hesitation. She picks through the hardware and lines everything up. I turn back to my leg. Once it’s done, I reach for the last one, but find it gone.

My gaze turns to her, she’s threading the bolts and is close to done. It’s hot seeing her in her element, like she used to be with sports. I’ve missed this side of her.

I look the legs over when she’s done and nod. “That’s solid.”

She grins. “Told you I wasn’t fragile.”

We set the legs and start threading the beams through, working in tandem, not needing to say much. Frankie keeps the wood steady while I press the connector flush and drive the bolt through. When I move, she shifts with me, already lining up the next piece.

We knock out the supports together, her drilling while I bolt.

I turn toward the drop sheet. “Now the compartments.”

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