Page 105 of At First Dance
The silence? It’s louder than the hammer.
A car door slams in the distance. Gravel crunches. I glance up just in time to see Hadley’s familiar pink aesthetic bounce around the corner of the shed. She’s been visiting me incessantly since Ivy left.
Great.
She’s got a coffee cup in one hand and a knowing smirk on her face, which means I’m in trouble.
“Still building something or hiding from your feelings?” she chirps, ducking under the open frame of the half wall like she owns the place.
I grunt, wiping my forearm across my brow. “You bring coffee or sass?”
“Both.” She hands me the cup. “And maybe a little concern.”
“Don’t need concern.” I sip the coffee and try not to groan. She went heavy on the vanilla again. “You put syrup in this?”
“Rowan,” she drawls. “You’ve been out here every day for the last few weeks. You’re covered in sawdust, and you’ve sent three shirtless thirst traps to a girl who’s probably stuck in more filming than she can count. I think we’re past the point of concern.”
“Those were not thirst traps,” I mutter, turning back to the wood.
“Oh, please. That one yesterday? You even flexed.”
I don’t answer.
Hadley hops up onto one of the stacked beams and swings her legs, watching me like she’s waiting for me to crack.
“So,” she says after a beat. “Is this about her?”
I pause, fingers tightening on the tape measure. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She snorts. “Come on. The entire town’s buzzing. Ivy leaves, and suddenly, you’re out here playing lumberjack slash mystery man. Mrs. Danner told the post office Ivy ‘snuck off like a woman in love with nowhere to go.’ And Bailey says you’ve been acting like a man who either just fell hard or just got dumped.”
“Bailey should mind her business.”
“Bailey owns half the town’s gossip, so good luck with that.”
I sigh and lean back against a beam, stretching my arms until my shoulders pop. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh really?” Hadley folds her arms, cocking her head. “Because to me, it looks a hell of a lot like a guy who let something good slip through his fingers and is now building a shrine to his feelings.”
I blink at her. “It’s not a shrine.”
“Is it a stage?”
I freeze.
She raises a brow. “Knew it. You always did get sentimental with wood.”
I shake my head, jaw tightening. “I’m not doing this for her. Notjustfor her.”
Hadley gives me a long look. “Rowan… don’t bullshit me.”
I take a breath. “I’m doing this because I want her to come back and see something that says… she’s worth it. That I’m worth it. That I’ve finally figured out I don’t have to run from things just because I’m afraid I’ll mess them up.”
She goes quiet, and when I glance her way, her expression has softened.
“That’s new,” she says gently.
I shrug. “Yeah.”
