Page 30 of Hidden & Held

Sam steps out beside me and looks at me funny. “Oh, little Phi, you got some drywall in your hair.” He smiles as he reaches into my hair, gently trying to untangle the mess.

As Sam and I are looking at each other, smiling over the obscene amount of drywall caught in my messy bun, we hear a car door slam. I look up to see a silver Range Rover Velar, and a man looking furious, holding two cups of coffee.

One mug is mine—the ceramic travel one I left at his place three weeks ago, cream-colored with a chipped handle he once called “cottage chic.” He sets it down in front of me like an offering and steam curls up from the lid. Extra cinnamon. Too much oat milk. My exact order.

Jackson stands there, taking in the scene. I instantly compose myself, putting my mask into place. He used to be the one who removed the mask. Attempting to make myself appear more put together than in leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, and drywall dust in my hair, I face him fully with my spine straight.

“Jackson,” I say as if acknowledging an inconvenience rather than a greeting.

Sam eyes Jackson warily, stepping slightly in front of me in a protective gesture, assessing the man. The subtle movement touches me; the protective brother vibe gives me the family protection I always craved. He doesn’t introduce himself; he follows my lead while demonstrating to Jackson that I am not alone.

Jackson’s jaw ticks. He swallows whatever he was about to say instead. “Phoenix. Can we talk?” His eyes cut to Sam. “Alone.”

I gesture to Sam and the duplex behind me. “No, I’m in the middle of something.”

Jackson presses his lips into a thin line, his one tell that he’s about to lose it. Clearing his throat, he shakes me out of my thoughts.

“This won’t take long.”

I brush drywall dust off Sam’s back, taking my time with it. “I know, and still, we are in the middle of something.”

Sam glances over his shoulder with a small smile. “I’ll get back to it then.”

He turns and walks back into my old side of the duplex. Jackson’s eyes burn a hole in the back of Sam’s head. Sam is easy to read—big, capable, and made for building. Jackson just studies him, quiet and deliberate, like he’s measuring the competition. Not that it changes anything, even if it brings a smug purse to my lips.

Switching his eyes back to me quickly, Jackson asks, “Who is he?”

I look at him, tilting my head slightly, deciding how much information to give him. “Who do you think I call when I need real help with renovation work?”

I let his mind ponder that before adding, “Do you know how hard it is to find someone who actually knows how to caulk properly? You’d be amazed.”

Jackson’s eyes narrow into slits; he drops his voice, lower, more restrained, and asks, “Are you already with someone?”

A ghost of a smile moves over my expression. “Already?” I question. “I wasn’t aware I was with anyone to begin with. I don’t remember meeting anyone’s mother. Or grandfather. I don’t remember being introduced to anyone’s friends.”

Jackson opens his mouth to defend himself, then closes it shut. He has no words to redirect, no ground to stand on.

Sam appears from behind, carrying a heavy bookcase, completely unbothered by the scene unfolding. “Phi, where do you want this?”

“Living room, left of the window.”

“Got it.” Sam disappears again.

Jackson clocks him as he disappears into my new home.

“As you can see, we have a lot of hard work to do. You can leave now,” I say, dismissing him.

A surge of color rushes to Jackson’s face as his neck tenses at the dismissal. Before he can launch into a reply, I hear a car pulling in quickly.

Jared gets out of his car holding a muffin tin and a thermos, looking a bit frazzled.

“Okay, I am so sorry I am late. Kenzie wanted me to bring muffins, but I ate half the first batch. She made another while I was absorbed in debugging a client issue, and then there was a thing with Reece and the brick—” Jared stops, taking in the scene, noticing Jackson for the first time.

“Oh. Hi. I’m Jared,” he says as he clutches the thermos between his arm and torso, reaching out to shake Jackson’s hand.

Jackson eyes him with a bit of amusement before taking his hand with a firm shake. “Jackson.”

“Cool.” Jared holds up the thermos with the energy of a man who has decided to be helpful and let the adults sort out whatever this is.