Page 25 of The Other Room

“Right?” I grinned. “Who knew it would land me a job instead of a fish.”

“What’s your plan for the winter, then? Don’t they shut down by Fall Fest.”

“They do, so I’m not sure.” I swiped a hand along the back of my neck. “I mean, I know your place is only temporary, so I guess I’ll figure out where I’m moving to full-time and then figure it out from there.”

“Always swinging like a monkey from one career to the next.”

“I know.” I took a sip of my beer, then sighed. “When am I going to realize I’m not twenty-one anymore, buckle down and find a permanent job?”

Jo shrugged. “Eh. How many of our friends do we know who went off to college, got the ‘dream job’ and are absolutely miserable cooped up inside, sucking down lungfuls of stale air?”

“A lot.” I laughed.

“Exactly. You were one of them. But you realized office life wasn’t for you, so you went after a life that would make you happy. I think that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of. Most people aren’t brave enough to give up the security of a nine to five to find happiness. To go against the normal standards of society and do what makes them happy. You’re brave. Be proud of that.”

My focus started to waver as the intoxicating sensation of her sliver of forgiveness weaved through me. “Wow. Thanks, Jo. That means a lot to me that you don’t think I’m just a lazy, meandering bum.”

She chuckled, another layer of darkness evaporating from her expression. “Not at all. People are always asking me when I’m going to get a ‘real job’, and I just smile and laugh. When I tell them I make more in four days bartending than most of them make in a week, even with their college degrees and fancy jobs, it shuts them up pretty quick. Not to mention I have almost every day off to enjoy the sunshine, three months off every winter when we close down, and a lot of fun most nights... well, when I’m not getting my ass kicked. I love bartending. It suits me. I wish people would get that and not think it’s my ‘fallback’, or something I’m doing because I don’t have another option. I’ve got plenty of options. Just none that are a better fit for my life.”

“Right?” I sighed. “People don’t get that there’s a lot more to life than making six-figures sitting in a stuffy office. Some things in life are worth more than money. I may float between careers, but at least I’m not dreading going into work every day and counting the hours until I can leave. I like what I do, until I don’t... then I pick something else.”

“Since you get bored with jobs easily, you need to be challenged regularly. So why lock yourself down to one thing and be miserable for all your days just because you ‘should’? I think it’s good you change it up.”

Her ability to recognize my values felt like someone punching the gas on my emotions, flooding an ache into my limbs. An ache that wanted more Jo. “I’m glad someone understands my need to keep life interesting.”

“You’ve always been that way. And I don’t think it’s a bad thing at all. It’s just who you are.”

Of all the people that had come and gone from my life, none understood me better than Jo. It was part of why losing her friendship had torn my soul to shreds.

“Thanks, Jo. That means a lot. But I do think I should try to find a career I can enjoy and stick with for more than a few seasons.”

“What about being a handyman? You’re so good at it. And it’s always something different.”

“You know, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do something with that. I love puttering around with different projects. Maybe after I’m done with your cabin, I’ll look into how one becomes a professional putterer.”

Jo laughed, and this time it came out more naturally. “Professional putterer. I like it. Maybe we can make that your business name.”

Holding my hands out like I framed a sign, I grinned. “Matt’s Professional Puttering Services. It has a ring.”

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and laughed. “I take that back. No one will ever hire you.”

Feigning my disappointment, I swung a fist through the air between us. “Damn. I’ll keep working on it.”

As I watched her struggle, the air between us crackled with all the words that remained unspoken. I held my breath, waiting for her to regress back into her anger, but then she surprised me. “And about my cabin. I don’t actually expect you to do all that work on it.”

Scoffing, I sat back. “Are you saying you don’t trust me to turn your crappy cabin into a kick-ass beachfront getaway?”

“No.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I’m saying that I was wicked pissed at you and wanted you to suffer if you insisted on living with me. Since I’m working on this whole forgiveness thing, I just want you to know I don’t expect you to basically give me thousands and thousands of dollars of free labor.”

“Well, too bad. Because I’ve got my heart set on fixing that place up. So, don’t try to stop me.”

“Only if you’re doing it because you want to, and not because you think you have to.”

“Jo,” I said, my smile sliding away as I looked into her eyes. “I want to help you fix up your place. You deserve an awesome place to call home, and I am so very grateful you opened your other room to me. Even when you wanted to smack me.”

A smile played across her lips. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

I nodded. “I’m sure. And I’ll try to do my work when you’re bartending, so I don’t drive you bananas.”