Page 69 of Studfinder

Nolan looks up at Rita once more and then back at me. “I need someone to talk to.” Shame fills his voice as he twists his lips, but there’s nothing shameful in seeking help.

“I-I’m proud of you for this.”

“Yeah?” Nolan’s head lifts higher, and he visibly swallows before glancing back at Rita once more. Then a shield drifts back over his pleased expression, and he stiffens his jaw. He’s scared, and I don’t blame him. It’s difficult to accept he’s done wrong. “Okay. I’ll see ya around.”

I step out of Nolan’s way, and he rolls past me to his car. For a few minutes, I watch him work his way down the drive and then open his door, maneuvering himself with the aid of the door. Everything in me wants to rush forward and assist him. Wants to take over and help him. Protect him.

“He’s going to be okay,” Rita states, and I turn back to her, squinting in the bright sunshine.

“How do you know?” The question seeks reassurance. Will Nolan find what he needs? Will he not feel as if he’s been left behind? Will he repent what he’s done? Will he find forgiveness for himself? The questions seem endless, and genuine concern still exists because he is my brother.

“I believe in second chances. This is his.” Rita gives me a weak smile before turning around and returning to her crossover, where the passenger door remained open. A laptop sits on the seat along with a file box on the floor. Rita needs a real office, and I might know the perfect place for it.

As the week comes to a close, the project receives its final touches. Saturday is the big reveal for the family and Rita has invited me to join them even though Saturday isn’t a mandatory day for me. I was expecting a large bus blocking the building like those emotional extreme makeover shows or maybe a big barrier, separated by the fixer-upper hosts. In prison, we watched a lot of random television. But the truth is, Jackie and Bob park down the street and are guided to the house with hands over their eyes. It’s a bit comical but also exciting.

The couple stands side by side clutching hands. Their son sits in his wheelchair while their daughter stands beside him, covering his eyes with her hand. He chuckles as he keeps trying to swat it away, and his sister demands her hand block his sight. Sullivan Vance is present along with Alfred Jennings, the officially former director of Building Buddies. Nolan is here as well.

“Jackie and Bob, are you ready to see your new home?” Rita even sounds like a television host, announcing the big reveal, and I find I’m actually holding my breath, hoping they like what they’ll see. I hope this house will recover all they’ve lost and offer them a future. I hope it brings them peace.

My eyes don’t leave Rita as she tells them to remove their hands. The air actually stills around us a second before Jackie bursts into tears, and Bob wraps his arms around his wife. The joy on their faces, along with the relief, is almost too much. My heart swells, and my eyes prickle.

Rita rubs a hand up Jackie’s back. “Would you like to go inside?” Her softened tone encourages the couple to move forward. Sullivan holds the keys to the house, and he hands them over to the stunned couple.

Nolan has been watching the whole process with rapture. Something settles over his expression, softening it a little bit, and I’m wondering if he’s thinking the same thing as me. This is a family. This is their new home and a second chance for them. Whatever the future has in store for them, they’ll weather it together.

“I’ll race you,” Nolan suddenly teases of the young boy in his wheelchair, sounding like a kid himself. The little girl squeals beside her brother before she reaches around the chair and pushes her brother forward. They each take off, but Nolan holds back, allowing the kids to feel like they’re winning. The laughter coming from all of them is like a fist clenching in my stomach—a happy fist—one that wants to hold on tighter.

Bob gives gratitude to Rita, but Rita shifts his praise. “Sullivan and Jake did it all.”

When Bob steps over to me, I anticipate his hand, but instead, he reaches for me, pulling me in for a back-slapping hug.

“Thank you, man,” he mutters over and over again. “Thank you from my entire family.” My eyes burn, and I rapidly blink away the threat of tears.

“It was no trouble,” I admit, uncertain if Bob knows anything about my history. This wasn’t a project but a sentence. Then again, standing here watching all of them, pride fills my insides. At this moment, it has become so much more.

Jackie steps up next. Her tear-soaked face is wet as she brings me in for a hug, burying her face in my neck. She begins to sob again.

“Thank you so much.” She draws back to pat my cheek once before holding my face a second. Looking me in the eye, she repeats herself. “Thank you for everything.”

The damn threat of tears breaks on me, and I quickly press at my lids, drawing my fingers over them to the bridge of my nose.

“It was nothing,” I state.

“It means everything,” she says, turning to include Rita.

“We owe you everything.”

“You owe us nothing,” Rita states, her voice confident and reassuring. This seems to encompass Rita’s entire attitude. No one owes anybody anything. We owe what we do to ourselves first. Service to others second.

As a couple, Jackie and Bob are led by Sullivan to the ramp where their son has beaten Nolan up the incline. Nolan is giving the daughter a high five. As I watch their interaction, I accept that this is all I ever wanted in my life. A family. A home. I had those things in a slightly unconventional manner. I’ve definitely been missing them in the last decade.

“You did this,” Rita says beside me. “You did good here,” she adds, still glancing at the house. Her hands are tucked into the back pockets of her jeans as she nods at the place. Pride fills her voice along with appreciation. She loves what’s been done here, and I have to agree I do as well. It feels good to give Jackie and Bob this fresh start. It feels good to build something and see that, like anything, there is a beginning and an end. The thought has me staring at Rita. Some things are not meant to end, though.

“Is that a compliment?” I tease. The last week has been difficult. Rita has been here full time, but we haven’t had a moment alone together. I have so much to say, so many apologies to give her, but I’ve been stumped as to where to start.

“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head, handsome. It’s already big enough,” she snarks back, giving me an easy smile.

“You still think I’m handsome?” I joke, falling easily into our old banter.