“Yes, I did. But I didn’t test the ones behind your wall unit. And when I was talking with my supervisor, he asked if the unit can be moved. It can, can’t it?”
Oh, holy hell. I rub my hand across my head. “Yes, ma’am, it sure can.”
“Wonderful! Would tomorrow afternoon be too soon to come back out?”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Like I’m going to say no in any case.
“Then I’ll shoot you a formal email in just a few moments. Thank you for being so understanding, Maris. In the end, it’s making certain children are put into safe and secure homes.”
“I look forward to it.” After we say our goodbyes, I add, “And I look forward to the herniated disc I’ll have as a result of moving that beast.” I’m pretty certain it hasn’t been moved since it was installed. I think I was seventeen.
Just then, a text message pops up from Nick. You owe me dinner.
My thumbs fly over the keyboard. I’m impressed. I thought I had a few more days, at least.
Nope. Now put up.
Selfish, selfish man.
I didn’t say I was going to make you pay. Come on, Maris. Let’s get some food and have a real date.
Physical or emotional pain? I’d rather scar my soul than move that media unit. So, it’s with real regret I type, I can’t. I have to move the TV console in my living room before tomorrow.
Why the hell are you trying to move the brown beast? That thing might be holding up the second floor of your house.
A wide grin splits my face. Jed dubbed the media unit the brown beast the day he and the Jacks wrangled it inside for my father. And then a lightbulb goes off in my head. Furiously, my fingers begin to type.
I’ll buy you dinner wherever you want if you move it for me.
That’s a hell of an incentive. Have a whole night to do nothing but spend time with you or risk permanent injury. Let me think…deal. When do you need me there?
Two hours?
See you then.
It’s going to be worth whatever hell I pay later to get that thing moved.
A few hours later, Nick shows up with Brad in tow. From where I stand propped in the doorway, I watch the two goofballs do warm-up exercises. “You better not pull a hammie,” Nick taunts Brad.
Brad throws him the middle finger as he reaches into his back pocket for a red, white, and blue bandanna that he ties around his forehead like he’s a ninja warrior. Nick rolls his eyes before he reaches for a red-and-white one to tie around his own head.
Oh. My. God. The Great Alaskan Lumberjacks. They haven’t grown up. I begin to laugh so hard, I can’t breathe. “There’s no way you two are entering my house without my getting a picture of this testosterone-laden debacle to share with the others.” I fumble in my jeans pocket for my phone.
Brad strikes a pose that would do any superhero proud, and Nick? He’s the grown-up version of himself, glaring at my cell phone camera. “Could you try for a smile, Mr. Grumpy Pants?” I taunt him, much the same way I did when we were all young.
“No, I can’t,” Nick grouses. His hand moves to swipe the bandanna off his head. Brad reaches over and slaps it down. Nick’s face grows more irritated by the second.
“Fine.” I take the shot—which is just perfect as it is. For as long as any of us have known him, Nick has been a pain in the ass about having his photo taken. When I press the button to replay the shots, I collapse against the jamb.
In shock.
Because for half of the pictures, Nick’s scowling like normal. The rest? He’s smirking at Brad like he’s trying to hold back huge guffaws of laughter. “How did we miss this? Is this what you’ve always done?”
“What?” Nick steps up to the door and plucks my phone from my hands.
“Don’t you dare delete those photos,” I warn him.
With nothing more than a “Hmm,” he flips through them. Handing me my phone back, he leans down to whisper in my ear, his lips brushing against the rim so lightly they send tingles down my spine. “Only when you were taking the shot.” Then he slips past me inside the house where the dreaded wall unit awaits.
“The things you find out with modern technology,” I murmur.
“Did you say something, Maris?” Brad comes bounding up.
“Nothing. You know where the beast is.” I wave him up toward the family room.
“Yeah, I remember the three days of bed rest I needed with Rainey waiting on me the last time I moved it. Of course, she was in the bed with me.”
I grin as I close the door and follow Brad up the stairs. Some things never change.
In the time since I got home from the Brewhouse, I’ve emptied the shelves of everything and piled it on top of my guest room bed. I haven’t wiped down the unit because I didn’t want to make it slippery when we might need to get a better grip. As Brad and Nick are slipping on gloves, I snatch up a pair I found in the garage. “Where do you need me?”
“Safely out of the way,” Nick tells me. Brad agrees wholeheartedly.
“Wrong answer, guys. Even though I’m smart enough to ask for help, I can still remove shelves to reduce the weight.”
Both men look appropriately chastised, then slightly embarrassed. “Well, shit, Nick. Think we should have done that when we moved the beast in all those years ago?” Brad muses.
“Might have taken a good twenty pounds off,” Nick agrees. Hooking an arm around my neck, he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Sorry, Maris.”
“For both of you thinking with your male egos again? You’re forgiven.” My voice is pure honey.
All of us laugh as the guys start to reach for the shelves. I carefully lay them down on towels set on the dining room table after numbering the rough edge so I know what order they have to go back in. I smile when I hear the guys mutter between themselves about how much lighter the unit feels as they ease it from the wall.
Then Nick’s voice freezes me in place.
“Hey, Brad. Don’t go any further. There’s a book or something wedged behind this damn thing on my side. I don’t want it to drop down; I can almost reach it.”
I whirl around just as Nick pulls out a leather-bound journal triumphantly, familiar like the other volumes I’ve been reading. Somehow my legs manage to sustain my weight as I make my way across the room. “Give me that!”
I can’t even register the shock on Nick’s face as I snatch it from his hands. I immediately flip to the first page to see the opening line.
Maris,
I hope like hell you’ve rid the house of the beast and found this journal first. Because I shudder to imagine what you’re thinking otherwise. Give me a chance to explain before you rush off to tell our friends everything. And please let me apologize…
I slam the book closed. God. Jed expected me to find them eventually. The world begins to spin crazily.
“Maris? Are you all right?” Nick bends down until his dark eyes are in line with my own.
“I…I don’t know.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s in that book?” His eyes don’t leave mine as they ask.
“No,” I tell him honestly. His eyes narrow. “But I’m going to have to.”