Page 172 of Coach
“But you like it.”
“Yeah. I do.” I paused mid-bite. “I’ve never worked so hard on anything. I mean, half the time I’m cursing at the wood, which is why it’s resisting—”
“Jesus, that shit again?”
I grinned.
Stevie leaned back, resting her elbows on the bench behind her. “You always like the hard stuff.”
I didn’t respond, mostly because she was right. I’d long since learned never to admit that. It only encouraged her.
She dug out another sandwich, and we ate in silence for a while, the sawdust-heavy air broken only by the hum of the fan and the distant whine of wind sneaking through cracks I’d promised to fix a decadeago.
Eventually she nudged my shin with her boot.
“You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’re spiraling and won’t admit it.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m eating, aren’t I?”
“That’s step one.” She reached into the bag and tossed a cookie at me. It landed in my lap. “Step two is not sleeping here overnight to whisper apologies to the grain pattern.”
I gave her a dry look. “You know, I could fire you as my unsolicited life coach.”
“You could,” she said, smiling. “But who else is going to remind you that you’re not a woodworking hermit with martyr syndrome?”
I didn’t say anything.
She didn’t need me to. She was right again. Damn it.
Stevie leaned forward, stealing a piece of my bacon and gave the half-built cabinet another look.
“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “You always do. Just don’t forget to eat while you’re proving it. While you’re at it, try leaving this fucking barn for five minutes. Go for a walk. See a movie. Find arandom dude and wet your whistle.”
“Wet my whistle? Who are you, Popeye?”
She snorted.
“I’m the girl who knows best, like your mother but with perkier boobs and cooler tats.”
I groaned. “Can we please not invoke the image of my mother and her sagging tits?”
She grinned. “Only if you get out a little.”
“Fine, fine. I have a delivery this weekend. Does that—”
“No!” she snapped. “Deliveries are work. You need to do something fun for a change.”
“Work is fun.”
“Said the guy headed for the nuthouse if he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass.”
