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“Good eye.” He handed me a screwdriver. His fingers brushed mine this time. “Try tightening them first. If that doesn’t hold, we’ll swap the screws.”
Mrs. Kersley hovered two feet away, smelling faintly of powder and muscle cream. I tightened one screw. It spun uselessly. I looked up at him.
“It didn’t, in fact, hold.”
“Then we swap them.”
He talked me through it while I worked. Remove the hinge. Keep pressure on the door. Don’t lose the top screw because the floor would absolutely eat it. He stayed at my shoulder as I worked, close enough that my arm brushed his thigh when I reached for another screw from the small dish he’d set out.
Once the hinge was reset, the cabinet door finally closed like it was supposed to. I opened it. Closed it. Opened it again like it would sneakily droop if I glanced away too soon.
Mrs. Kersley clapped loudly, clearly pleased I hadn’t fucked this up. “Better.”
I stood and tried not to preen. “Thank you. I am now available for all your future hinge-related emergencies.”
Her eyes slid to Deadeye. “He can come too.”
Deadeye grinned. I rolled my eyes and gathered the tools before she could start planning our wedding.
Out in the hallway, sunlight came through the narrow stairwell window in hot squares. I wiped my palms on my shorts and looked at the next item.
“Hallway light on the third floor,” I said.
“Easy.”
“That’s tempting fate.”
“Some things are worth tempting.”
Complete bluescreen. Words had utterly failed me.
We took the stairs. Halfway up, I realized he was pacing his steps to mine without making a thing of it. I had shorter legs. He didn’t rush ahead. He just stayed beside me, toolbox in hand, like there was nowhere else he needed to be.
The hallway fixture was a glass dome with one dead bulb and enough dust inside to start its own life form. I dragged over the step stool from the maintenance closet while Deadeye steadied it.
“I can do this,” I muttered to myself. If I couldn’t replace a bulb, I deserved to be the punchline in every lightbulb joke ever told.
“I know.”
“That sounded patronizing.” Not really, but I had to lob a barb at him before my cock embarrassed me further.
“That sounded like I know you can do it.”
I looked down at him. He looked up at me, one hand steadying the stool. Blue eyes. Easy smile. A face that had become dangerous to my peace.
“You really need to stop doing that,” I muttered.
“Doing what?”
“Being reassuring. It’s manipulative.”
He grinned. “Get the cover off before you fall.”
The old bulb came free with a dry little squeak. Dust coated my fingertips. The new bulb went in. The fixture lit immediately when I flipped the switch back on, filling the hall with a clean yellow glow instead of sad flickering half-light.
I climbed down and held both hands out like a magician after a trick. “Behold.”
Deadeye nodded toward the fixture. “Looks good.”
