Page 19 of Run to Me
“I’m over here trying to wrap my head around it. What are you going to do now? I know your dad is a dick, but he’s still your father.”
“He doesn’t respect me in any capacity. Until he does, I’m not giving him time in my life.”
It seems harsh, but maybe it will help him realize how he treats me. It’s toxic.
“I still can’t believe you told him about Olivia. He hates the Grant’s.” He stands in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. “I would have loved to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.”
He points up the stairs and I go and put down my suitcase, but my phone buzzes.
Liv: What are you doing right now? I need your expertise. You worked construction for a while right?
Me: Yes, what do you need?
Liv: I’m trying to figure out what repairs are needed for the barn. Honestly, to me, it’s everything.
Me: On my way.
I rush downstairs and find him finally eating whatever concoction he made. “I gotta go help Liv. Not sure when I’ll be back.”
“You are a grown man. There’s no curfew at this house. Just respect my rules. And don’t wake the baby up or else my wife will kill you.”
I laugh and head out the door toward the Grant ranch.
About twenty minutes later, I pull down the dirt driveway to find Olivia standing on the porch, drinking a glass of lemonade. Oh my. She is wearing a sundress and cowboy boots, and my heart drops. It’s very rare that she isn’t in jeans, but I’m not complaining. Something about a simple sundress is a turn-on for me.
“Hey, handsome. You didn’t have to rush over here.” She throws her arms around my neck and plants a kiss on my lips. “Not that I’m complaining. Sorry it’s been a little hectic since the auction. The investor wants a write-up of everything by next week, and I feel like I’m running out of time.”
I brush a strand of hair out of her face and my thumb grazes her cheekbone. “You never have to apologize for needing me. Remember that.” I twirl her around. “Did you put this on for me? I like it, but I think it’ll look so much better on the floor.”
She smacks my chest. “And I’d look better up against the wall, but I have work to do. So don’t tease me, yet.”
Something about her playful tone is making me hard. “So, later then?”
She smiles. “Let’s go check out the barn, and then afterward we’ll see.”
OLIVIA
Our footsteps echo as we move through the barn, this once-grand skeleton that bears my family name. The floors creak beneath us, warped and uneven like old memories. We speak over the restless structure, over the dripping water and its complaints. A stray shaft of light catches Ace’s hair as he measures a sagging beam, his hands steady. Mine clutch the frayed blueprint of a crumbling dream, and my voice rises above the creaking timbers: “We need to secure these beams before we touch the permits.” The measuring tape snaps back into place, a brief, metallic protest. Ace jots something on the clipboard, his brows knitting together. “If these supports go, nothing else will hold.”
“And what about those permits?” I nod toward the mess of papers scattered across a dusty work table, half smothered by old toolboxes and memories best left alone.
Ace doesn’t answer right away. He’s still the same in that way, always needing to see something through before speaking his mind. I study him for a moment, the set of his shoulders beneath the worn fabric of his shirt, the steadiness of his hands as they work their way down the wood. I can’t tell if he looksdifferent or if it’s only me, the barn, the past and the future twisting in the heat.
“We’ll get this sorted.”
The water plinks into a growing puddle, and I step over it as I pace toward the barn’s southern wall. Ace follows, notebook and pen now a part of his hand. My loan through the bank won’t cover all the costs for repairs, but since the charity event, I do have some investors that might be interested. Wedding venues are new in our area and can bring more tourists to our small town. So, I just have to make sure that I have all my ducks in a row. Only one shot to seize the deal.
“This wall’s barely hanging on. Same for the roof and crossbeams, too.” I turn, find him watching me. There’s something in his eyes I can’t quite pin down, but I’ve seen it before. He writes in his usual neat scrawl, faster now, listing each problem without hesitation.
“How much of this place do you want to tear apart, Liv?” His voice has that low, warm note to it, the one that sneaks up on me, melts through my intentions.
“As much as we need to,” I say, holding his gaze longer than I should.
We move down the length of the barn, making an inventory of its deterioration, my determination, his resolve. Dust coats our hands as we mark the damage, every board and beam sagging with neglect. Each time we talk over another flaw, each time we seem to agree, I wonder what we’re really deciding. Ace folds his arms, considers my stubbornness like it’s one more thing on his list. We stop near a pile of tools, a jumbled testament to unfinished work.
My dad used to spend time out here and he’s one that always has a project going. He planned on fixing up this barn, but never had the chance. Everywhere on this property are memories with him.
“That’s everything on the south side,” he says. “No point looking at the rest till we secure what we have.” There’s no challenge in his voice, only the patience that sometimes made me want to scream and kiss him at the same time. I brush a layer of dust from the table, watch it settle again.
