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“You did? When?”
“When you said you were working on it. Although doesn’t look like you’re doing shit at the moment.”
I exhale, then glance at the crew that’s busy replacing the roofing felt. In an hour, they’ve almost finished the front side.
“I went to Adler’s this weekend to get materials. Deacon suggested I should hire professionals.”
“Huh. I seem to remember suggesting the same damn thing.”
I can’t explain to Tommy that I wanted to do it myself as part of my plan to live here full-time again since he doesn’t know that’s the case. So, I settle for an eye roll. “I appreciate the offer of help even if it’s turned into atold you so.”
“You’re very welcome.” Tommy squints past me. “Nine-guy crew and metal roofing? Fancy shit. Next thing I know, you’ll be driving a six-figure sports car around town.”
“The truck runs fine still. The roof was one storm away from blowing off.”
“I’m kidding, man. We all know you have the money. Nice to see you spending it even if it’s on something so…practical.”
I shake my head. “Want to come inside for some coffee?”
“I’d love to, but you were one stop on a dozen things I’ve gotta do today. Now that I know you’re not about to break your neck up there, I should get going.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you at the fair, yeah?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Yeah.”
Tommy drives off, and I go back to moving shingles, not realizing I didn’t put my right glove back on until a stray nail manages to tear the side of my thumb open.
“Fuck.” I watch the blood swell to the surface, thoroughly annoyed with myself for being so careless. It doesn’t hurt yet, but I’m sure it will.
I head straight inside, holding my hand under the kitchen faucet and then wrapping my thumb in a paper towel before heading upstairs.
The bathroom door is shut, but that’s not what stops me in my tracks.
It’s the voice, audible over the rush of water through the creaky pipes in the walls.
I addsingingto the list of things Piper Egan is really good at, placing it right aboveaffecting me.
I stand and listen to her belt out a Ghostland song, even as my hand starts to throb. It’s their biggest hit, the one about a bottle of whiskey.
The water shuts off, and the singing stops too.
I pull in a breath, then knock.
“Yeah?”
“Hey. It’s Kyle.” I close my eyes.She knows it’s you, idiot. “You almost done in there?”
“Uh, yes. Why?”
“I cut my hand, and I need—”
The door swings open, and Piper is standing there with wet hair and a towel wrapped around her torso. Water is dripping down her arms and the ends of the long strands, forming tiny puddles on the floor.
“What do you mean,you cut your hand?”
She’s already reaching for it, blanching when she sees the red stain that’s formed on the makeshift bandage.
