Page 24 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“This was before things got bad,” I explained. “He told me she worked as some hotshot business consultant in Miami. Fancy office, big money, ocean view. Said she loved the beach and was always working on her tan.” I let out a dry laugh. “Old man was probably right about that last part. She looks good. Nice tan even in January.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Luke said, interrupting my musing. “But it sounds like she’s doing just fine without you.”

I rolled my eyes. “I never said she wasn’t. Gary was proud of her. He loved sharing stories about her apartment in Miami and talked about how happy she was. He did mention she complained about the humidity a lot.”

“You’ve still got a thing for her,” Luke said.

I chuckled like my chest hadn’t been aching for her ever since she’d been back. “It’s long gone. We were kids. There’s been a lot of life lived since we last saw each other. We’re not the same people.”

“I’d say this girl still has a hold on you,” Wes said. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?”

“This place is a goddamn wreck,” I said. “She couldn’t handle it on her own. And I’m doing this for Gary, too. I feel like shit for not stepping in sooner. I had no idea how bad it was. I guess I kind of feel responsible. I should have been doing a better job checking in on the guy.”

“Sure,” Wes said, smirking again. “You’re just doing a good deed. Nothing to do with her looking hot as hell.”

I ignored him, but they didn’t miss the smile on my face. I shook my head and scowled at them. “You’re all doing a lot of talking instead of working. Good deed or not, we need to bust this job out and get it turned over to her in record time.”

“You sure you don’t have an ulterior motive?” Luke asked. “Because if you two didn’t have history, I would sure as hell make a move.”

“I said I don’t,” I replied. “She’s moved on. She’s got her fancy Miami life and everything she ever wanted. This has nothing to do with her. Now stop gossiping like old women and get your asses in gear.”

Luke raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else. I was thankful for that. The last thing I wanted was for the guys to keep ribbing me about Merritt while we worked. It was bad enough that the mere mention of her name could still make my heart race.

“Finish tearing out the carpet. I want to make sure we’re not going to have foundation issues. Wes, I want you on the kitchen. Get those cabinets out and check the walls for mold.”

I gazed around the old house. It was strange how a place could hold so many memories, how even after all this time it seemed almost unchanged. Despite the decay and years of neglect, I could see past it to when we were just kids running through these halls, hiding in cupboards, making plans as if the world was at our fingertips.

We all got back to work. I hauled several loads of garbage to the dumpster. If we had more time, I would offer to do the yard as well. But Merritt said she was only here a month. We had to prioritize the house.

Luke turned on his playlist, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker we always brought on jobs. The old school rock music spurred us on. I walked into Gary’s room and paused in the doorway. All the furniture was cleared out. The same ugly brown carpet that matched the rest of the house remained. If I had time, I would recommend putting in a new window and maybe even knocking out a wall to open the place up.

Staring at it wasn’t going to make it happen. I grabbed my tools and started ripping up the carpet.

It was almost noon when my stomach growled. We were making good progress. The gutting was always the hardest part. We were dirty, sweaty, and exhausted, but there was a sense of satisfaction in it. The mustiness of decay had already begun to dissipate.

I walked back into the living room. Luke was going through the tedious process of pulling staples from the floor. Wes was still working in the kitchen, pulling out appliances and bitching about the nastiness he found underneath.

“I’m going to get lunch,” I said. “What do you guys want? Ham and turkey?”

“Turkey for me,” Luke replied, not diverting his attention from the task at hand. His fingers were swift and sure as they methodically extracted the old staples with the pliers.

“Ham with pickles,” Wes called out from the kitchen, followed by a curse. I heard the sound of a cabinet door thudding closed, followed by his deep sigh.

I turned to head out the door but paused. Glancing back at the work we had already done, I felt overwhelmed by the ghosts of my childhood. I had a feeling Merritt was going to be surprised to see the house. And emotional. I was having some thoughts, and I wasn’t the one who had grown up in the house.

I hopped on my bike and left the guys to keep working while I grabbed food. It didn’t take long to find a café that looked half decent. I parked out front and my eyes landed on someone sitting by the window.

Merritt.

She was hunched over her laptop, earbuds tucked in, one hand gesturing animatedly while the other rested on her keyboard. Her face lit up as she laughed at something I couldn’t hear, and for a second, I just stood there watching her through the window.

She looked radiant. Hell, she always did. The sunlight streaming through the glass caught in her hair, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn she hadn’t changed at all. She was still the bubbly girl from high school who’d had me wrapped around her little finger, whether she knew it or not.

I remembered all the late-night talks sharing secrets and planning our lives.

A lot had changed. Ten years was a long time. I’d been through my share of hell, and I wasn’t naive enough to think she hadn’t had her battles too. Still, seeing her like this—smiling, confident, alive—did something to me I didn’t want to analyze too closely. I was a little jealous. She had moved on with her life. I had tried and ended up being a widower.

“I’m in trouble,” I muttered under my breath. Shaking my head, I pushed open the café door.