Page 17 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“I don’t know if it ever had any glory,” I muttered, stepping inside. “But yes, I have a lot of work to do.”

He reached his hand up and gently pushed on the sagging ceiling. “What’s your plan?”

I stiffened. “Why is that your business?”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have a plan, do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “It’s been ten years, Buttercup, but I can still read you like a book.”

“Don’t—” My breath hitched, and I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Call you that?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. He raked his fingers through his dark hair. The gesture was too familiar, too distracting. “It suits you.”

I glared at him, wishing I could wipe the smug look off his face. It wasn’t fair that he could stand here in this house, with all these memories, and still look so devastating. The Kannon I’d grown up with was different. Back then, his smile was easy, his laugh infectious. He’d been my best friend, my rock. My mother used to call him my other half, while my father had said he was my protector. They loved that he was in my life. They trusted him to take care of me when I was out of their sight.

Back then, he did. He really had been someone I relied on. I always thought we would be together forever.

The first time he met my dad was when we were ten. I had stayed home sick from school. Kannon brought my homework to me. I remembered hearing him ask my dad if he could check on me. It was so sweet and innocent.

My parents had immediately fallen in love with the kid that cared enough about their only daughter to go out of his way to check on her. They took him under their wing and kept him close as we grew up together. We used to play and rough house like we were brother and sister. My parents didn’t hesitate to discipline Kannon if he got out of line. He really was like one of the family.

It wasn’t until we hit adolescence that things got weird. Our sibling-like relationship twisted. I didn’t think either of us saw each other as brother and sister anymore. We were still best friends, but the sibling thing felt wrong. Looking back, I realize it felt wrong because we had developed feelings for each other.

We went to high school together and he took me to prom and we walked together at graduation. I still remembered graduation night very fondly. It was a night I would never forget. I truly believed we were the couple that would be at the ten-year reunion happily in love with two or three kids and a golden retriever at home.

But life hadn’t worked out that way.

“You need help,” Kannon said, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between us. “Lucky for you, I own a restoration company. Fixing up places like this is what I do.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You do restorations?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone casual like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I can use some overflow supplies from other jobs to keep costs down. You’ll only have to pay for new materials if you need them.”

My mouth opened but no words came out. He turned away, walking to the window overlooking the lake. I followed his line of sight. For a moment, I could see what he saw. The water had the typical serene, glass-like appearance in the late afternoon light, the way it had when we were kids. I wondered if he was remembering the same things I was, the days we spent swimming until our fingers wrinkled, the nights we’d sat on the dock talking about the future. Eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches my mom made us while trying to solve all the mysteries of the world.

He turned back to me, his expression blank, like he was a cyborg underneath that beautiful exterior. “What do you say?”

I hesitated, torn between pride and practicality. I didn’t want to owe him anything. But I wasn’t naive. This house was a disaster, and I didn’t have the money to hire anyone else. And I had recently figured out I didn’t have the know-how to do it on my own. I never imagined painting could actually be difficult. Finally, I sighed. “Fine.”

His lips curved into a grin. “Good choice. Work starts tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I frowned. “I just got here.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “No point wasting time. Do you have somewhere else you can stay? This is going to be a construction zone.”

I shook my head. “I’m staying here. I just got a bed and some stuff to make it livable for the month. You’ll have to work around me.”

His grin widened, the kind of grin that made me want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him. “Then you’d better not get in my way.”

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, crossing my arms.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back.

We stared at each other, the tension crackling between us. Part of me wanted to push him out the door and tell him to take his charm and his restoration company with him. The other part of me—the part that still remembered what it felt like to lean on him, to trust him—wanted to let him stay.

“Fine,” I said finally. “But I’m not making it easy for you.”