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CHAPTER NINETEEN
In his parking space at Dad’s building, Rory sat in the car after going over tomorrow’s schedule with Paige. The day had proved a grueling round of catch-up with on-hold tasks and meetings. His leg was hassling him, but no rest would come until he saw the progress on Vi’s house. Even better if Vi came too.
The sunset painted a vivid evening portrait. Neon pinks and oranges swelled through the furled clouds. The crisp, dry air provided a welcome contrast to the drizzle of the last two days. He popped two cinnamon mints in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue. Hours ago, he’d wolfed down a sandwich between appointments. A cup of java would revive him.
Three texts later, Rory had promised to pick up coffee and meet Vi at the house. One side of his mouth tugged upward. Vi and Cyrus were already there. Win-wins were his favorite.
Vi’s delight over the dog and last night’s conversation had simmered in his mind throughout the day. Skitters wrapped around his spine. If only they could keep this lovely streak of harmony going.
Thirty minutes later, Rory drove into the dirt driveway next to Vi’s yellow bug. He pulled out his phone, tempted to text. Save a few grueling steps. Nope. Not giving in. He grabbed the coffee cups and shoved one leg, then the prosthetic, out the car door. He bit off a yelp. Streaks of fire ran up his thigh.
Rory walked toward the lake, insisting the prosthetic keep pace. Once he cleared the shrubs surrounding the path, the pain fled for a moment. A pint-sized redhead strolled on the concrete sidewalk with an enormous black dog at her side. The wind whipped at her hair. Maybe she’d let him try a ponytail again. When Vi spied him, a grin enveloped her heart-shaped face, and she waved. Rory’s good leg wobbled a bit, not from exertion.
Right, babe. This flimsy string tied between you and me? Let’s make it stronger.
He held up one cup of coffee. Vi nodded, spoke to the dog, and they chugged up the path to him.
Vi jaunted the last few feet between them, taking the cup from Rory’s outstretched hand. “Good thinking. It’s breezy on the lake.” She stood, both hands wrapped around the cup, and sipped. “Ah. Thank you.” Cyrus sat at attention, his eyes watching Rory.
“I need to check the progress in the house. It might be a little warmer in there.” Rory would prefer to stand there, drinking in her sweet presence. Instead, he veered back the way he came.
“Okay. You can show me, and I’ll tell you about Cyrus.” Vi sounded lighthearted and happy.
Rory needed to sit in the worst way. Placing his hand on her back, he helped her up the path. She glanced at him once, concern etched into every facial feature. Much as it galled him, he didn’t object when her steps slowed.
They reached the porch steps. Vi reached for his hand, and they navigated their way between her walking boot and his weary nub. Once they walked into the house, she made her way to a stack of sheet rock and hoisted herself onto it.
“Let’s sit.”
Rory’s teeth clenched. The opportunity to get the weight off his leg proved irresistible. He slid next to her, pleased when she didn’t scoot away.
“At ease, Cyrus.” The dog wandered over to a tarp and lay on it, his nose between his paws. Vi sipped her coffee. “Fill me in on what’s happening.”
Rory worked to control his breathing, wiping perspiration from his forehead. “Plumbing in the new bathroom and kitchen has begun, along with the electrical work and shorts in the wiring.” He pointed. “The pink stuff in the walls is insulation—guaranteed to help with your electrical bill. It’s in the attic too—helps in hot and cold weather.”
“I’d forgotten about the attic. One of these days, I’ll have to see what’s up there.” Hearing Vi’s raspy answer, something niggled at the back of his mind.
“We need to make sure there’s no rotten flooring up there, but since the guys were able to insulate, it’s probably okay. We’re sitting on the next step—sheetrock for the walls. Do you want to walk through, check it out?” He drained his coffee cup, setting it aside.
Vi sat quietly for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Finally, she looked at him. Her jaw had a stubborn set. Uh-oh.
“No, I’m sure the house is fine.” Her voice had become soft and breathy. “What I want to do is massage the muscles in your thigh. It’s obviously killing you.”
When she placed her small hand on his leg, it cooled the raging fire, but Rory sucked air so fast, his throat constricted. He spoke past the tightness. “You let me sit close to you because you want to massage my leg?” His voice had risen to a shout. Cyrus scrambled to his feet, growling.
Vi stared at him, her blue eyes wide with shock.
Rory hopped up, grunting when his feet hit the concrete. “I’m fine the way I am, Vi. I don’t need to be fixed.” Despite the strong assertions, his confidence chipped into bits.
“Whoa, Rory! What happened?” She sneezed, then gasped for air.
Oh, no. Mentally smacking his forehead, Rory remembered too late. Vi and sheetrock dust didn’t play well together. He hobbled to her. “C’mon. You’ve got to get out of here.” He stretched out a hand, hoping she would take it after his outburst.
When she doubled over in a coughing fit, Rory circled his arm around her waist and held her. Once her coughs dwindled to dry rasps, he guided her to the door. Cyrus butted his way in between them as if to protect her from him. Great. A stiff breeze buffeted them as he led the way to her car. He opened the door, and Cyrus jumped across to the passenger seat.
“Got your inhaler?” When she nodded, he reminded her, “Two puffs. Steady breathing before you drive anywhere.” Rory stayed close by to make sure she puffed twice. Once she gave him a thumbs up, he limped away, evading the hurt in her eyes. He’d contained the threat. Now, he had to maintain distance. By the time he got to the Lexus, his anger had faded to depression. He climbed in and pounded the steering wheel. They’d been having a great time. Why couldn’t she back off?
The bigger question loomed a black cloud over his brain, refusing to go away.
