Page 62 of Restored By You

He stares at me, wide-eyed and frozen, and for one terrible second I think he’s too scared to move. Then he stands. He doesn’t look at his mother. He doesn’t look at my father. He picks up his hoodie and stands beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. I put my hand on his back and feel him trembling.

“Shea.” Michelle’s eyes are wet and torn. Her hands flutter helplessly between her husband and her son. “Tyler, honey. Let’s talk about this.”

“He’s staying with me tonight,” I tell her, and I make my voice as kind as I can, because none of this is her fault, not really. “We’ll talk again when everyone’s calmer.” I dig cash out of my bag and drop it on the table—mostly because I know nothing will piss my father off more in this moment than if I pay. I meet my father’s blazing eyes one last time. “Oh, and for the record. The house is beautiful, the show is going to be incredible, and I did all of it without you.”

I put my arm around Tyler’s shoulders and walk us out with my chin held high and my hands shaking. The second the door closes behind us, Tyler’s composure cracks.

“Shea,” he breathes, small and wrecked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.” I pull him into me, right there in the parking lot, and hold him tight. He holds me right back. “I promised you, remember? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I’ve got you’re back, Ty. You’re my brother.”

He grabs fistfuls of my coat and I feel him shaking. Over the top of his head I fumble my phone out of my pocket with one hand to make a call and get us a ride out of here.

Rhett picks up before the first ring finishes.

Twenty-Two.

Rhett

Tyler and Shea have been staying with me for the last week since the blow up at the steakhouse. I may not have been there, but boy did I hear about it. From Shea and several other local gossips around this small town.

Shea’s father has tried to call her numerous times, countless texts, and even a few dozen emails demanding she stop her childish games and return to the resort. And somehow, my strong, brave girl has held her ground with not a single response. Not even when he showed up here yesterday. He knocked on the door, but no one answered.

Getting their things from the resort was easy. Between a few staff members Shea befriended, and my brother being a face Daniel didn’t recognize, they were able to get everything from the suite they’d called home for the last two months.

Daniel did, however, pull our resort contract. Unfortunately for him, once word spread about why he pulled the contract, no contractor within five counties will step foot on the job.

Hence why Jenn shot me an email this morning begging me to come in and review a revised, expedited contract to complete the work and then be ‘banned from the premises.’

I had a good laugh over it, but Shea did not.

“He’s just going to use you to get to me,” she says from her spot perched atop my bed in her silk pajamas and matching bonnet.

“Probably,” I sigh, tugging on my jeans.

She crosses her arms, frowning. “I don’t like it.”

I take a deep breath. “Neither do I,” I say. “But we’ve never backed out of a job, and we’ve never not finished a job. I won’t start now just because your father wants to wave his fuckin’ wallet around.”

That gets a small smile out of her. She crawls to the edge of the bed, reaching out to tug me closer. Her slim arms wrap around my neck, drawing me in. “You’re too good for me,” she whispers, her lips ghosting mine.

I chuckle. “I think you have that backwards, baby doll.”

“Never.” She kisses me then, long and deep. Her nails biting at the back of my neck as she moans into my mouth. My hands trail down to grip two full handfuls of her lush ass.

I groan, having to break away from the moment before I end up not leaving at all. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I kiss her one more time, then tell Tyler through the closed door of the spare bedroom that there’s cash for Cup O’ Joe on the counter, let Levi know I’ll update him when he gets back from the lumber yard, and head up the mountain.

The resort looks different in late November. First real snow layering the ground, the lot half-empty ahead of the holiday rush coming in later this week. I sign in, ride the elevator to the top floor, and step out expecting Jenn Paul and her clipboard with a revised contract I’m about ninety percent sure I’m not signing.

Instead, I lay sight to Daniel Winton, standing alone in the middle of my half-finished jobsite. His hands are clasped behind his back as he studies his surroundings like he’s appraising it.

“Huh.” I let the door swing shut behind me and sip my coffee, taking my time. “Showing up unannounced. Must be a family trait.”

He turns, taking me in with that cold, assessing gaze, the same way he did on Shea’s porch. “Mr. Montgomery. Thank you for coming.”

“I didn’t come for you. I came for Jenn.” I glance around the empty floor. “Though I’m guessing she’s not coming.”