Page 71 of Making New Plans

25

Hunter

After a quick training session with Chloe on the beach the next morning where I filled her in on my midnight adventures with the Dodriges, I met a very bleary-eyed Carter and a half-asleep Owen at the old house. Mable had provided me with strong coffee and chocolate-dipped biscotti, which we drank and ate while I outlined what I wanted to do.

Eventually, they perked up and discussed ideas with me. Carter was fairly knowledgeable of how to go about a demolition, having done a few odd jobs around town and at his own house and garage. I mentioned Sal’s offer of tools and machinery, and he agreed we might need her resources later, but we could start it ourselves.

While Carter made a run for sledgehammers and safety gear, Owen and I marked the areas we wanted to knock down first. My mind kept wandering to Chloe as we worked. She’d been fine with running the lodge while I worked in the old house today, but I still missed her.

After last night, I felt as though I were on the middle of a tightrope. On one end was the safety of the known. My original plans of selling the lodge, opening my own firm, and only visiting Tangled River when absolutely necessary.

But somewhere between kissing Chloe at a rock concert and admiring her ideas for Pine Grove, I’d slowly walked away from those plans. Headed out on a precarious rope toward the wild unknown at the other end. And while I was tempted to retreat back to the side I knew and could control, the intriguing possibilities on the other side, especially ones that involved Chloe, enticed me to inch toward it.

Last night, that moment when she’d finally decided to trust me with her ideas felt like I’d unlocked some life achievement I’d never even been close to before. That feeling was addicting in a way that was both exhilarating and dangerous.

I’d stayed up most of the night studying her ideas from every angle, which had led to me papering my room with sketches and expansions of her ideas. They were so inspiring and so Chloe. I couldn’t explain it, but I could practically hear her mind’s inner workings when I looked at that binder. I understood them. And her. And I wanted to create the world she envisioned.

Hell, that was my job, wasn’t it? But this was different. This was real and personal. Not like some cold corporate building for cubicles, but a place for people to have amazing experiences and find a little world of happiness in their current one. This was life.

Hence, the lure of that other side. And probably why my stomach felt like it was knotted with cement ropes.

By the time Carter got back, Owen and I had barely exchanged more than a handful of words, but I didn’t mind in the least. Owen seemed to be one of those people who instinctively knew when to talk and when not to.

We helped Carter unload his pickup and slipped on hard hats, safety goggles, and thick gloves. He had a sledgehammer for each of us, and we trooped inside.

We gathered in the kitchen first, having decided that’s where we would start. No load-bearing walls or any other dangers.

“What now?” I asked, gripping the handle of my sledgehammer tightly as they stood and stared at me. I was more than ready to obliterate something.

They gave each other a loaded glance.

“You should take the first swing,” Owen said.

“Trust us,” Carter added, nodding sagely.

I shrugged, feeling ridiculous as I hefted a sledgehammer for the first time in my life. I surveyed the kitchen for the best place for my inaugural swing. If they were going to make a big deal out of it, it might as well be good.

My eyes halted on my dad’s favorite cabinet to hold his six-packs when the fridge was already full of them.

Owen and Carter noticed my focus and took a healthy step backward. I lifted the sledgehammer and swung with all my might for the ugly old cabinet.

It splintered with a loud crack. My arms vibrated from the force as shattered wood rained to the floor. For a moment, I stood there, breathing hard, staring at the destroyed cabinet. A strange sense of vindication roared in my chest, and I looked up at Owen and Carter with a maniacal grin.

“Damn, that did feel good.” I lifted my sledgehammer again. “Join me?”

“Hell, yeah!” Carter rumbled.

At the same time, Owen yelled, “Hulk smash!”

We slammed our sledgehammers into the other cabinets until they laid in heaps under our boots. Sweat ran off me in rivers, and my arms would probably be useless tomorrow, but I didn’t care. Each swing had unchained old feelings and memories and set them free.

We moved on to an unimportant wall and resumed swinging. For some reason, I could see my parents’ faces in my mind more clearly than I had in years. Like their ghosts had surfaced for one last look at the place we’d all been trapped in. My beautiful mother and her sad eyes. Her desperate hugs and love of Cheers. My paunchy father and the burst blood vessels in his nose. His crass, demanding words and his inability to look me in the eye. Even that little boy I once was. So angry, yet so hungry for attention. Trapped but scared to go anywhere else until I was forced to. No more. No more.

By the time we stopped for lunch, I all but collapsed on the front steps outside. I sucked in as much cold, fresh air as my lungs would allow and let it purge the dankness of the house.

Carter and Owen clambered out to sit down next to me.

After a few moments of enjoying the fresh air and sunny day, Owen nudged my shoulder. “Better?”

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