Page 17 of Finding Home

Jace cocks his head, studying me like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. “Where are you from? My roommate in college was from the Northeast and he used to say that too, never heard it around here otherwise.”

“And here I thought I’d left all of that area in the rearview mirror.” I laugh as I take my coffee from Bree. “I was born and raised in Maine.”

“You know, I’ve never been there. Is your family still there? Do you visit often?”

A band winds around my chest, making it hard to breathe. I rarely allow myself to think of where I grew up or my family and the trauma inflicted there. Slowly, I tap my thumb on each finger, breathing at the end of each round. Jace’s hand is on my back, and I know I probably look like a lunatic. These attacks used to be much more frequent. Even in high school, the pressure to be perfect was suffocating, leading to paralyzing panic attacks. They resurfaced after getting pregnant but had been pretty infrequent for the last couple of years. Why did one have to happen now, in front of him?

After a few seconds, the band loosens. Bree is in the kitchen doorway, watching, just in case I need her. Nodding her way, I let her know I’m good. I’m embarrassed he saw this, but decide to push past it, not even acknowledging the moment, or the fact that his hand soothed and grounded me in a way no one else ever had been able to.

“Yes, my family all still lives there, but no, I never go back.” Holding my breath, I wait for the questions, the concern, the comments that will make me feel three inches tall. Instead, Jace lets out a low whistle.

“Whew, glad it seems no love lost for the area. I was just being nice. I don’t really want to visit the Northeast. From what my roommate said, there are a lot of pretentious people out there.”

Smiling sadly, I lean over, bumping shoulders with Jace. I’m grateful that he doesn’t press me on my family and take the pass he is offering me. “He’s not wrong there. I better get back to the shop.” Stepping back and heading for the door, I meet his gaze. “Good luck with that property, Jace.” I give Bree a wave and head out onto the sidewalk with a smile I can’t stop from spreading across my face. Finding out he’s looking at a property here almost made running into a door worth it. Almost, I think as I rub the spot on my forehead

Chapter 13

Jace

I watch her walk out the door. Her hips swaying, the black leggings she has on hug her body, and as always, she’s sporting Converse, this time opting for white low tops.

“You know what I think?” I startle at the voice suddenly beside me. The owner, Bree, if I remember right, is standing and watching Harper cross the street. I look at her for a second before returning my gaze to where Harper is disappearing around the corner. She doesn't wait for a reply. “I think you would be really good for her. Too bad you’re not sticking around.”

“Uh…thanks, I’m working on it?” I respond awkwardly, because how the hell else do I respond?

“So I heard. Glad Harper could give you directions to that property. It’s a gorgeous area. The house is run-down, but the views can’t be beat. Lucky you came in when you did. She actually comes by around this time every day. It’s the mid-morning lull, so she often sits and chats or works at a table for a bit.” Winking, she heads behind the counter toward the ringing phone.

Taking my drink and pastry, I head for the door. Looks like I just got a new standing appointment when I’m in town. Harper’s friends appear to be in my corner. Now, can I get her there, too?

Making my way to the site, my mind wanders back to Harper's panic attack. It felt like a physical blow watching her change before my eyes. The light drained from her. Her breathing all but stopped, and the nervous hand movements, every part of it screamed of a woman that had been broken apart so thoroughly that she was still piecing herself back together. I hadn’t planned on mentioning possibly moving here. I didn’t want it to seem insincere or just to get in her pants. Now, I just hope it works out, so I don’t hurt her, too.

Blake is set up in front of the building with blueprints rolled out on a large piece of plywood laid between two sawhorses. “Morning, Blake, how are things going?”

“You mean since you asked two days ago? At this point, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re after my job. You know, usually when you hire a foreman, it’s because you trust them to run the job site. Has me wondering if my work just isn’t up to snuff, or would these new micromanaging tendencies have anything to do with a pretty brunette?” He pins me with his green eyes, daring me to deny it.

“Shut up, Blake. This is a big job for us, and if the local scenery is nice to look at, well, then that’s just icing on the cake. Too bad you’re full of snark today because I brought you a pastry. But now, I think I might eat it myself.” Pulling the chocolate croissant out, I make to take a bite, but it’s snatched out of my grip, disappearing into Blake’s mouth in one animalistic bite.

“Well, well, well, wasn’t that quite the display of mature behavior.” Blake spins so fast he stumbles then chokes on the very full mouth of pastry upon hearing Wren’s voice.

“You good, man?” I beat his back a few times as he frantically tries to clear his lungs.

“I’m good.” He nearly shouts with his mouth still stuffed with pastry.

“Good to know the project is in such mature and skilled hands.” She winks then prances off with a little skip.

“Smooth, buddy.” I laugh, clapping him one more time on the back before going to the plans.

“Yeah, thanks a lot, Jace. That was all your fault.”

“Not sure how you came up with that, but I’ll let it slide. I’m actually here to check the cafe space, make sure my measurements for the counter are right.”

“It hasn’t changed since three days ago, Jace.”

“Just one more check, then I will get out of your hair. I found a garage space to rent so I can focus on the carpentry work.”

“Jace?” Checking behind me, I see Blake leaning against the framed-out doorway. “You really thinking of moving out here?” I watch him for a minute. At just under six foot, he’s only slightly shorter than me but has a leaner frame that belies his strength. His sandy blonde hair is always cut short on the sides, but he’s taken to keeping the top a bit longer, and it gives him a youthful appearance. It reminds me of when I met him. I was working as a foreman for a remodeling company in Washington. He was eighteen, freshly aged out of the foster care system. A good kid, a bit adrift, but mostly just alone, and fell in with the wrong people. A few of the crew members convinced him to party in one of the houses we were working on, knowing it would be empty at night. The cops were called and Blake was arrested.

As the head of the project, I was contacted. Blake was the only one that had no one to post bail, and as he had never been in any trouble, the judge let me take him with a promise that he’d appear in court.