And there she was—Rayna. Safety vest bright against her skin, work gloves shoved in her back pocket, braid pulled neat down her back. Her boots were scuffed, jeans streaked with grit, but she carried herself like she owned the ground she walked on. Glow cut right through the mess of the site. She laughed at something one of the men said, but when her eyes caught mine, the sound stuttered, softer.
“Quentin.” My name in her mouth loosened something in my chest.
Two men turned.
The older had to be her father. Broad chest beneath a faded work jacket, beard thick and flecked with gray. His skin was the same deep tone as hers, his shoulders squared with the weight of years building more than walls—family, reputation, business. His presence was heavy without him saying a word. His eyes landed on me like a tape measure, running from top to bottom, assessing.
The younger leaned lazy against the van, but the fold of his arms and the tight set of his jaw told a different story. Stocky frame, clean fade, Rayna’s same eyes staring out at me—but where hers held fire and warmth, his were hard. Darren. Brother, protector. His look wasn’t curious. It was a guard dog posted at the door.
“Daddy. Darren.” Rayna’s voice was careful. Controlled. “This is Quentin Hale. Quentin, my father and my brother.”
Her father wiped his palm on his pants before he offered it. Firm grip. Eyes unwavering, no blink. “Hale. You the teacher?”
“Yes, sir.”
Darren didn’t move. Just gave me a slow chin lift, arms still crossed over his chest. “Math, right?”
“Physics.”
His mouth ticked into a smirk. “Close enough.” His arms stayed locked.
Rayna’s fingers twitched at her side. She tucked a stray wisp of hair back into her braid, a nervous tell she probably hoped they didn’t see. I wanted to reach for her hand, lacemy fingers through and let her know she wasn’t standing here alone—but not here. Not yet.
“You hoop?” Darren asked suddenly, chin jutting like a test.
“Not since college,” I said evenly. Held his eyes while I said it.
“Mm.” He let it hang, verdict in that single sound.
Her father studied me one more beat, then nodded once, decisive. “You should come by for dinner. Let us see who got my daughter smiling at her phone when she thinks we ain’t watching.”
Heat crept up Rayna’s neck. Her eyes darted to me quick, then away. I kept my gaze locked on his. “Yes, sir. I’d like that.”
He grunted, already turning back toward the building. Darren pushed off the van, the edge of a grin breaking through. “We’ll see if you still smiling after, teacher man.”
Rayna laughed—too quick, too thin at the edges. When they moved off, I brushed my fingers against hers, just a whisper of contact. “You good?”
She nodded, but her eyes told more than her mouth. “They can be a lot.”
“I don’t scare easy.”
Her lips twitched, softening into a smile meant only for me.
Her father’s voice carried back through the dust, “That girl is more than sweet on him. Maybe we’ll see more of him.”
I should’ve felt lighter. Instead, weight settled in. The invite hadn’t come from Rayna—it came from him.
I’d walked her into my world already—Grandma’sprayer over Sunday dinner, Jada’s warm jokes, all the noise and love of my family. But Rayna was still guarding her door, still keeping the lock half-turned even while her eyes begged me closer.
Not disappointment. Recognition. She didn’t hand out access easy. The scars of her past made sure of that.
But her father already saw the shift—the crack of light. He was the one holding the door open. And maybe, for now, that was enough.
Chapter 19
A Man Knows
Whitaker Electric’s office wasn’t glamorous — never had been. The floors were tracked with years of boots, the walls stacked with filing cabinets too heavy to move, every inch of it smelling like dust, coffee, and copper. A calendar from three years back still hung by the door, stuck on April like time had refused to budge.
