Demarien chuckled and adjusted it, just a fraction.
Felix checked again. “Better.”
A floorboard creaked behind them, but it was just the house settling. It always sounded like footsteps if Demarien let his imagination wander too far. He didn’t mind. In a place this old, silence felt unnatural anyway. Sometimes he could imagine Dahlia was there, watching them from the doorway with a smile.
Demarien stood, stretching his back until it popped, and glanced around again. The debris, mouse droppings, and dirt had been removed first thing that morning. The stone fireplace in the corner still held soot from winters long past. A cast-iron pan hung crooked on a nail, forgotten in the chaos. The wide plank floors were scuffed and worn, each mark a story. It was starting to resemble the kitchen he remembered.
Felix picked up the drill and set the next cabinet panel into place. The wood didn’t quite line up at first. “C’mon,” he said quietly, pressing it into position. “Work with us here.”
After a moment, it settled.
He and Felix shared a smile. Then, the sharp whir of the drill cut through the quiet, echoing off the bare walls. Then another screw. And another. Each one felt like progress. Like proof. They could do this.
Outside, the wind stirred, brushing through the trees. The light shifted, deepening toward evening, and the gold turned to orange.
Demarien and Felix stepped back again, studying what they’d done.
They were a bargain set of cabinets, but they were set evenly, and Felix had painted them white. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was sturdy. It was real. It was theirs.
He wiped his hands on his jeans and let out a slow breath that settled somewhere deep in his chest. “Yeah,” he said softly,nodding to the room as if it might answer back. “We’re getting there.”
Felix gave him a soft smile, then patted his back. “We’ll have the kitchen fixed up in no time.”
The house creaked again, quieter this time, and for the first time all day, the kitchen didn’t feel like a wreck.
A quiet chortle made his eye twitch again.The damn chicken is back.
Felix and Puck had set up a flower box outside one of the kitchen windows, and Memphis had decided it was hers. She sat there, wallowing in the dirt, and stared at him, as if she were a queen gracing a peasant with her gaze.
“It’s my kitchen,” he told her.
She chortled again and turned her back to him.
Felix snickered.
Brownie waddled in on his short legs, ears almost touching the ground. “Woof.”
“Hey, buddy. We’ll have a doggie bed set up next to the fireplace in just a moment.”
“I’m going to fix that sink,” Felix said. “We’ll do the countertop later tonight, when your darling Boone comes by.”
Demarien’s grin returned, and he sighed happily.
Felix leaned back against the cabinet frame, crossing his arms with a satisfied look. “The two of you have barely been apart this whole month. That’s not casual.”
“I know,” Demarien admitted, his voice soft. “It doesn’t feel casual either. It’s… easy. Like, I don’t have to think about what to say. Almost like I’m talking to you or the guys.”
Felix studied him for a moment, his teasing expression easing into something warmer. “You really like him.”
Demarien nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. “I do, and that’s kind of what scares me.”
“Why?” Felix asked gently.
Demarien shrugged. “I liked him so much when I was a kid, but this feels different. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. It’s just that Boone is different from anyone I’ve ever dated. He actually listens. Like, really listens. He remembers little things I say.”
“Green flag,” Felix said immediately.
“And we make terrible pun jokes together,” Demarien added.
