Chapter 27
Charlie
“Dammit, man!”
In a non-thinking moment of frustration, I kick at a can of varnish. Of course, it isn’t closed properly and it tips over, creating a thick, pungent pool on the floor.
Today, I’m really not in the fucking mood.
Nothing seems to be going right. Everything around me is turning to shit. One of these idiots nailed a round-head right through his finger and had to be taken to the emergency room. The hinges for the kitchen cabinets we’re supposed to be installing today never showed up. A major client’s cheque bounced in my account. Sharon decided to go into labor last night even though I told her she wasn’t allowed to until I got that damn Silverberry demolition permit.
…And Nova won't take my calls. She isn't in my bed, breathing softly on my chest at night. I need her. I’ve never needed anyone like this before. It's driving me crazy.
Leo saunters over, sidestepping the mess to set the paint can upright. “What’s going on with you, man?” He claps a huge hand on my tense shoulder.
I scrub my fingers over my chin. "Nothing, man. Nothing."
He squints. "Sure doesn't seem like nothing. You've been flying high all week and now, it's like you've crashed. Something's up."
The last thing I want to do is pour my heart out like a little chump but that's essentially what I am. I'm stressed out. I can't eat. Can't sleep. I just wish there was a way to get back on Nova's good side, to show her that I can be a good guy. That I will be a good guy. For her.
Leo reads the angst on my face like a blog post. "It's a woman, isn't it? All those women chasing you—did one of them finally catch you?"
I yank my hard hat off of my head and he follows me outside with his lunch bag in hand. "It's not like that," I say.
"Then, what's it like?" He leans against the side of my truck, and pulls out a little zip-up bag of deli meat sandwiches that my sister probably put in his lunch bag this morning.
And suddenly I'm wishing that Nova were packing my lunch bag every morning. The fantasy fades quickly because spreading peanut butter on toast is a struggle for her. The thought puts a bittersweet smile on my face.
He shoves the bag my way. I grab a sandwich and chomp down. "She's a friend. But I want more..."
"You want more?” Why are people so surprised that I’m capable of emotion? Leo should remember better than anyone what happened the last time I let someone into my heart.
"Yes, I want more." It singes my insides to admit the next part. "She doesn't trust me, though."
When he surveys my expression, he chokes back a laugh and watches me inch closer and closer to a mini breakdown. "So make her trust you." He makes it sound so simple.
"How am I supposed to do that?"
"Sometimes when you love a woman and you fuck up, you've got to walk across hot coals to get her back…Or run into a burning building."
"Stop being poetic, man. I need practical solutions."
He shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and lifts a big shoulder. "I don't know. Get creative. Listen to some R&B songs. Those are always full of good ideas."
"Jesus, Leo."
He peels off of the truck, headed in the direction of the port-a-potty at the edge of the yard. "I have a John Legend CD in my car. Let me know if you wanna borrow it."
"What do I look like to you—a pre-teen cheerleader?"
He laughs in his chest. "Fuck, you. I'm just trying to help. Anyway, I've gotta go take a piss. You'll figure something out."
He walks off, leaving me standing there as hopeless as ever.