Page 76 of Feels Like Home

He looks up. “Just have a few ideas.”

“For free time,” I say.

He quirks a brow. “Yes. For free time.”

I frown.

He studies me, phone in hand, face-up, waiting for his attention. “I’ll make all the plans. I promise it’ll be fun.”

“Just for today?”

He shakes his head. “I’m thinking at least a few days.”

“A few days of free time,” I say. “Like, doing nothing.”

He chuckles softly like he finds this whole thing amusing. “Doing nothing that’s really something.”

This is a bad idea. Doing nothing with Noble? Bad, bad idea. But for whatever reason, I hear myself say, “Fine. What are we doing first?”

“Meet me in about an hour.” He looks up from his phone. “It’ll be fun. Promise.”

“You said that already,” I say.

“Then I must really mean it.” His mouth crawls into a lazy smile, and he walks out of the room.

I watch him go, and my stomach bubbles with a sort of eager anticipation that I should probably be concerned about.

I listen for the voice of reason, but apparently, she’s taken the day off too.

Chapter Nineteen

Noble

This feels like a gift. And I’m not about to squander it.

The way I see it, this is another chance for me to show up for Hattie. Like Briggs said. And if I keep doing that, maybe I can chip away at the wall she’s built around her.

I start by making a quick run to town. I stop at Seb’s first, and on my way out, I spot Walt, who owns the hardware store next door, standing on the sidewalk talking with another guy.

I see the second Walt notices me and the second he turns away.

Nobody could ever prove that I was the one who stole the power tools from Walt’s store all those years ago, but he and I both know I did. I stole them, and I sold them, and I never officially got caught.

Time to make that right.

I already spent an afternoon out at Dan Mitchell’s place, mending fences for a few hours after apologizing for the one I broke. He was pretty grumpy about the whole thing, but he knew better than to turn down free labor. Promised him I’d be back and gave him my number in case he thinks of anything else he needs help with. I’m not sure he’ll use it, but it felt good to do something right for a change.

I stick the bag in the cab of the truck, then walk over to the hardware store just as Walt’s conversation is ending. He’s holding a broom, and he goes back to sweeping the sidewalk without acknowledging me.

“Hey, Walt,” I say.

His eyes jump to mine, but he doesn’t respond. It’s the kind of look that tells me he’s happy to pretend I don’t exist.

I think about what Briggs said. It’s not my business how anyone responds to my apologies. But that doesn’t change the fact that I need to make them.

“Wondered if I could talk to you for a second?” I say.

“Ain’t got much to say to each other,” he grumbles.