Page 19 of Once Upon a Fall

He saw it yesterday when he came to tell me he was leaving, and again when he came back, but today, it’s making me feel more vulnerable. Maybe it’s because I’ve invited him in rather than having him standing at the threshold.

I find the drill lying on the floor in the corner, covered by a thick coat of white dust, and try to wipe some of it off with my hand, but then I find a towel in the corner that sort of does the trick.

I hand the drill to him. “I’ll find the other stuff and bring it to you,” I say.

Dean takes the drill, his eyes scanning the room. “You’ve done all this by yourself?”

“Most of it,” I say. “Other than the stuff I can get my brother to do.”

“The guy the other day was your brother?”

“Dominic. He’s my twin, actually. I’m two minutes older than him, so I can sometimes get him to do my bidding. As long as I can pay him with pastries.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Dean says.

I laugh, but he doesn’t smile. Not even a minuscule upturn of his lips. I have no idea how to read this man.

Silence lands on the conversation, and we both stand there sort of awkwardly. I put my hands in the back pockets of my overalls.

“Well,” we both say at the same time.

I smile. He doesn’t.

“So, I can just bring you the other tools, then?” I say.

“Yeah,” he says, before giving me a quick nod and leaving the room.

I let out a breath, my shoulders dropping as if they’d been up by my ears the entire conversation.

Shaking it off, I quickly search around the room for the level and the stud finder, locating one of them in the bathroom and the other in the Snow White room.

The door to the Sleeping Beauty room is cracked open, but I knock lightly on it anyway.

“Come in,” I hear Dean say.

“I found the other things you need,” I say as I push open the door and stand just inside the threshold.

Dean is holding the shelf, staring at the wall where it fell off. I’m not sure the shelf will cover all the holes I made when I hung it, plus the new ripped-out ones from where it fell.

There’s probably a life lesson there. Or a metaphor. Something about doing it right the first time or whatever.

“I think it’s a bigger job than I was anticipating,” Dean says.

“No worries,” I tell him. “I’ll get that fixed right up.”

He shakes his head. “I can do it. I just need some more supplies.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he says. “Like I said, I’ve got some time on my hands right now.”

I should argue. I should tell him that I’ll take care of it. But heaven knows I need the help. Any help at this point.

“Well, okay,” I say. “Just maybe don’t put this in your Google review. ‘She put me to work. Made me use tools. One star. Don’t recommend.’”

His lips quirk upward. Aha! Well done, me.

“You didn’t put me to work. I offered,” he clarifies. “That bed might get you a one-star.” He points toward it. I hadn’t even noticed that it’s all made up, exactly how I do it.