Page 26 of Screwed

“That’s Ethan’s role. I, on the other hand, am perfectly fine with being a part-time bitch,” I announced with pride, though the smile I gave him was soft enough to remove any bite from my words. I took a sip of my own coffee and immediately froze.

It didn’t taste funny or bitter at all. That was the weirdest thing. It was actually… perfect. I took another, bigger sip this time, my face twisting in confusion as I tried to understand what had just transpired.

Deacon looked at me with slight concern. “Is everything okay? That’s how you make it, right?”

“Yes,” I blurted out. “I mean… that’s exactly how I take it. Three sugars and cream. How did you even know about that?”

Deacon rolled his eyes again as though the question were ridiculous. “I have ears. I’ve heard you complain enough times.”

“It was only once.”

“Yeah, and then you mentioned what you do like.”

“That was only once, too.”

Deacon looked down, pouring all of his focus into the depths of his cup. I felt my face heat up, and it had nothing to do with the roaring fire warming up my living room.

“Hey,” I said softly. Deacon looked up at me, unsure. “Thanks. For noticing.”

He nodded curtly, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. Ethan kicked him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t cry now, Matthews. We all know you’re sensitive like that.”

“Screw off,” he replied, shoving Ethan’s leg away. As the two of them tussled and shot the shit, my gaze traveled over to where Nate was still standing in front of the hearth. His mouth was tugged into a straight line, a huge difference from the almost-smile he wore earlier in the bar. And his body language, I noted with something that felt like grief, was stiff again. He was morphing back into Hardass Kavanaugh right in front of my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“Alright. Enjoy the fire, Ava, but don’t let it burn down to the embers before you lock up. I’m calling it a night. We’ve got a heavy structural load arriving first thing tomorrow, and I need everyone sharp.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and started making his way to the front door already. “I want you guys back in the trailer in the next ten minutes.”

Deacon’s body deflated, but despite his obvious disappointment, he chose not to put up a fight. Ethan gave me a small, sad smile, then got up and followed the other two.

“Goodnight, Ava,” he said quietly.

“Night,” I returned, feeling a little hollow as I watched the three of them retire back to their trailer for the night.

I left the en suite shower running to warm up as I started taking off my clothes, eager to wash off the stench from the bar and sweat. As I finally unclipped my bra, I thought about the fact that I’d actually had a good time tonight, all things considered.

Even with the drunk groper and Nate’s frosty return to professionalism, it was still a pretty damn fun night. The cool cabin air struck my bare skin when a sharp, heavy clearing of a throat shattered the silence. I spun around on my heel, my heart leaping into my throat to find Nate standing squarely in the doorway.

He remained momentarily still, the unexpected intrusion hanging heavily in the air. His gaze was intense and focused, catching me completely off guard and creating a moment of startled silence that stretched far too long. He didn’t look away, didn’t even look embarrassed.

A punch of adrenaline fired down my spine, my pulse racing at the shock of being exposed. My skin flushed with heat as I quickly moved to shield myself, grabbing my pile of clothing from the floor and trying to cover as much of my naked body as possible. I wanted to say something to him, to tease him or yell at him or just say anything to break the tension that had us both in a chokehold.

But Nate spoke first.

“I just came back to tell you that the main water valve is getting shut off at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow for the plumbing rough-in. Fill a pitcher tonight if you want to brush your teeth in the morning,” he said in a gravelly voice.

I don’t think I imagined his posture going even more stiff than usual before he turned around and just left. I sighed in relief and residual shock, staying in the same position until I finally heard the front door slam behind him.

15

Ethan

The mud down the four-foot trench was a special kind of misery.

Down the cut, the air was thick with the heavy stink of damp cedar roots, wet earth and the metallic tang of old, rotting cast-iron. A motorized excavation pump hummed a steady, vibrating rhythm in the background, working overtime to drain the spring-fed water pocket that had suctioned Deacon’s loader the day before.

We were systematically ripping out the cabin’s old original plumbing; decades-old galvanized steel lines that were so corroded they looked like rusted chalk. Nate had already mapped out the trench on his fancy iPad the day before, so now all we had to do was run the flexible, black HDPE pipe through the perimeter. The only stuff tough enough to handle the brutal Pacific Northwest winter freezes without bursting.

It was the type of honest, bone-deep labor that usually kept a man’s head straight. Only today, none of us seemed to be keeping our heads straight at all. Deacon started it, as usual.

“Think this will appease Her Highness?” he snorted, sparks flying off the dark trench as he sliced through the stubborn old main line with his metal-cutting blade. It was a callback to his first taunting of Ava back in the trailer, but it felt a little different this time. Less malicious, more fond, in a way.