Page 43 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I don’t answer. I just head deeper into the workshop, trying to push everything out of my mind as best I can and focus on the work.

It’s going to be a long day.

CHAPTER NINE

June

After almost two weeks of working with Evan, I’ve learned two important things.

One: Evan has the observational skills of a tiny FBI agent.

Two: my pockets are apparently not safe.

It happens while I’m making him lunch—a grilled cheese sandwich, cut into triangles because he informed me yesterday that “squares are boring.” He’s perched on a stool at the kitchen island, swinging his legs and supervising me.

I’m flipping the sandwich in the pan when I feel a small hand pat my hoodie pocket.

“What’s this?” Evan asks.

I freeze.

His fingers pinch through the fabric, and my stomach does a weird little flip, because I know exactly what he’s going to pull out.

“No,” I say automatically, as if that will stop him.

Evan’s eyes narrow. “Yes.”

“Evan…”

He digs in with both hands and yanks out a fistful of wood scraps as if he’s just unearthed a treasure map. Thin slivers. A small smooth oval. A couple of odd offcuts with interesting grain. One tiny piece that’s basically just a triangle of pine with a knot in it like an eye.

He stares at the pile in his palm, then looks up at me slowly.

“Why do you have… bits of tree in your pocket?”

I blink.

Then I laugh, because it’s either that or admit I’m an insane person who carries wood around like a squirrel.

“It’s not bits of tree,” I say solemnly. “It’s… the future.”

Evan frowns. “The future?”

I nod as if it’s perfectly normal. “I collect scraps of wood.”

“Why?”

Because I can’t help it. Because throwing them away feels too much like throwing away possibilities.

And when your life has been dismantled before, you learn to hold onto anything that might become... something solid.

But I don’t say any of that.

I just shrug. “Because I like them.”

Evan looks suspicious. “You like garbage?”

“They’re not garbage,” I protest, offended on behalf of my pocket lumber. “They’re interesting. Look at the patterns.”