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On and off, the mechanical whine rang out, then the grinding, then the silence. It was so disorienting that I was torn between being convinced the house was under attack and simply wondering if an overly enthusiastic neighbor was getting an early start on renovations.

“Holden?” I called out as I jogged downstairs, my eyes wide but my brain still foggy.

The noise died down again as I hit the foyer, immediately realizing that something seemed off about the space, but it took me a solid few seconds to pinpoint what it was. The entire door was off its hinges. My footsteps slammed to a stop, awareness suddenly dawning that this wasn’t an attack or an overly enthusiastic neighbor.

It was Holden.

Immediately wide awake, I drew in a deep breath and folded my arms over my chest, apprehension taking over from confusion. We hadn’t left things between us in a great place last night, so I walked slowly toward the opening where the door used to be, entirely unsure what I’d be getting from him this morning.

Before he even came into view, I realized half the porch railing was missing and the old steps were gone. New timber lay stacked on the lawn and Holden himself was on the far side of the deck with a circular saw in his hands, covered from head to toe in sawdust.

That dark blond hair was sticking up in all directions, protective glasses over his eyes, and his feet bare despite the chill in the air. The old t-shirt and jeans he had on looked like they’d just been through a war, covered in grime and dirt in some places and small rips in others.

For a long moment, I just watched him, completely shocked that a guy like him even knew how to use a circular saw, but then I finally took another step forward and cleared my throat. “What, uh, what are you doing?”

“My best, Alicia,” he said over his shoulder, not even looking at me as he uncapped a marker with his teeth and started drawing a line on a fresh piece of timber. “I’m doing my best.”

My eyes slid shut, my heart suddenly aching for him with such agony that I nearly doubled over with the pain of it. It was such a simple answer and yet, it carried so, so much. If he’d been awake that early and he’d simply wanted something to do, he could’ve just put up the decorations, but instead, he was starting with the porch itself.

Maybe it was because he couldn’t fix what was happening with Court, or his family, or what’d happened to me at the library, but he could fix the steps and replace the railing. He was doing his best at the only thing he could do something about and that spoke volumes about who he was.

Fuck that article. They don’t know a thing about this man.

“Do you want some coffee?” I asked around the lump in my throat when I looked at him again. “I’ll go make it.”

“Yes, please.” He finally glanced up at me, wiping sawdust off his forehead with his arm. “All the coffee would be great.”

I managed a tiny smile. “That doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to survive. I just need to wake up.”

Inclining my chin in a nod, I held his gaze for a moment, those blues grayer than I’d ever seen them. Almost as if the storm inside was raging right behind them, but he offered me a tiny smile of his own and I finally turned, heading back inside.

Once I got to the kitchen, I programmed the machine to produce the only coffee I’d learned to have it make so far. I leaned a hip against the counter and waited. Last night had been awful. Both of us had been hurting, and instead of supporting each other, we’d wielded our own pain like accusations.

I didn’t want to do that again, so when the coffee was ready, I picked up our mugs, determined to do better this time. Walking back outside, I handed his over, then sat down on the edge of the porch, wrapping my fingers around the warmth of my mug as I watched him work.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” he said after a few beats, looking up at me from where he was crouched on the lawn, checking the size of the timber he’d cut. “I wouldn’t be offended if you decided against freezing your ass off.”

“I’m okay for now,” I said, my eyes tracking his movements when he measured a second piece of timber against the first. Everything he’d done so far seemed to have gone pretty seamlessly, which was a bit of a surprise. “You’re rather handy for the son of a billionaire. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He barked out a laugh. “No. I can’t say they have.”

I turned a little bit until I was facing him fully, watching the muscles in his arms bulge as he lifted the heavy saw and made another slice. “Did your dad teach you?”

“No.” He scoffed, wiping his brow again before slotting in the next piece and tightening a screw. “My father probably didn’t even know how to make his own coffee. He had people to do things for him his whole life, but things changed pretty drastically after he went away.”

“Is that when you learned to work with your hands?” I asked after taking a moment to think about it. I honestly never had, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine what they’d gone through. “It must’ve been quite the learning curve.”

Those eyes lifted up to mine, but there was no anger or defensiveness in them now. “It was, but as soon as I started having to take things apart to learn how to fix them, I realized I actually liked it. Isaac helped a lot. He’s always loved taking things apart to see how they worked, so he was pretty excited when I started doing it too.”

I smiled and took a small sip of my coffee. “You’re lucky to have so many siblings. It must be nice to know there’s a whole group of people out there who will always have your back.”

“Sure,” he agreed easily, then let out another dry laugh. “On the flip side of that, there’s also a whole group of people out there who always think they know what’s good for you.”

“Fair enough.” I leaned back on one palm and brought my mug closer to my chest with the other. “On that note, I’m sorry about last night. I was angry and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“You didn’t.”