Present Day

From the garage, I watched Stella say goodbye to her boyfriend. Jealousy tweaked the iron bands around my heart. If things had been different, that might have been me with an arm around her waist. Me kissing her pouty mouth. Me sleeping in her bed. I shook off the fantasy before it found roots. Loving her had stolen my future and my past. I wouldn’t give her my dreams too.

The crew buzzed around me, their voices and shapes blurring into a watercolor of movement. Stella and Michael came into sharp focus. I’d seen her boyfriend before. He had a reputation for fairness and unwavering ethics. After all the bullshit I’d been through, my confidence in the legal system had waned, but this man seemed to be one of the good guys.

No matter who he was, I didn’t like the way his hand cupped Stella’s ass when she lifted on tiptoe to kiss him. Did she love him? Were they happy? At night, alone in my prison cell, I’d fantasized about her life, filled her days with laughter and smiles and her nights with blissful dreams. If this guy gave her all those things, then I’d figure out a way to deal with the jealousy.

Dad clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You okay?” His voice sounded far away, even though we were less than a foot apart.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t tear my gaze from Stella. She looked different from the last time we were together. Her hair was longer and straighter, and she’d gained a few pounds in all the right places. Cut-off shorts showed off her tanned legs. My fingers twitched, remembering how soft the skin had been on her inner thighs.

“Owen.” Dad’s bushy brows met over the bridge of his nose.

I coughed. My throat felt rusty. I didn’t talk much. Sitting under the tree with Stella, I’d spoken more words in a row than I’d said in the past week. “What?”

“You’re staring, son.” When his scrutiny intensified, I picked up my tool belt and strapped it on. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I reached for my hammer, intending to slide it back into the leather loop on the belt, but it slipped from my hands and landed in the dirt.

“She seemed really worried when Coley hauled you off.” Dad picked up the tool and handed it back to me.

I grunted in response, taken aback by the swift heat of irritation in my guts. I’d taken precautions to erase her from my life eighteen years ago, and now, fate had thrown us together again. The girl of my dreams stood less than a dozen yards away, and I couldn’t have her.

“Why don’t you take the afternoon off?” Sensing my prickliness, Dad resumed gathering supplies, avoiding my gaze. “You haven’t had a day off since you started working for me.”

“I don’t need time off.” The thought of sitting alone in my rented room over his garage, staring at the ceiling, sounded worse than a day of hard labor. I needed to work. Building things gave me a sense of purpose and accomplishment. Strenuous activity meant I could sleep at night.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged before walking toward the back porch. “Take the boys some more nails, would you?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, and I didn’t answer. Dad knew I’d take care of it, the way I always took care of things.

The rest of the day passed with agonizing slowness. I reworked the wood steps on the back porch and replaced the rotted boards, fighting away memories of holding Stella’s hand in that very place. Now and then, I caught a flash of her through the open windows, a flutter of her long hair, the curve of her cheek.

At the end of my shift, I paused at the living room window before loading my tools into the truck. She was humming to herself, a tune I didn’t recognize, but the sweet sound of her voice brought a lump to my throat. I shifted to get a glimpse of her. The sheen of humidity glistened on her arms and chest. The temperatures had climbed to the high nineties. With a bucket of water at her feet and a sponge in one hand, she scrubbed the dingy walls. When she bent over to rinse the sponge, the scoop neck of her tank top gaped open and revealed the upper swells of her breasts.

“Jesus.” Perspiration gathered on my brow. I swiped the back of my arm across my forehead. The sultry air had me sweating buckets, and the sight of her perfect, round tits didn’t help the situation.

“Go talk to her.” Dad paused on the return to his work truck, a few paces away from my spot on the sidewalk.

“No.” After shaking my head to clear away the pipe dreams, I grabbed the handle of the toolbox and headed to my vehicle. The time for words had passed years ago. Besides, what would I say? Everything I did was for you. I laughed aloud at the absurdity. The only way I could get through this was to hate her for making me care.