“When your feelings get too big?”
She gazed up at him, fighting back tears of shame, and simply nodded.
Jake’s expression softened even more, his patience unwavering. “I think you’re afraid of something bigger than porch furniture, Capri.”
Her throat tightened at the truth in his words. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. Not really. “I just need to know what’s going on,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
She cautiously removed her other hand from his.
Jake nodded slowly, respecting the space she was creating between them, even if he didn’t like it. “I get that. But you don’t have to shoulder everything all alone. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
Capri clenched her jaw, swallowing the lump of guilt rising in her chest. She wanted to apologize, to tell him she had been unreasonable. But the fear still clung to her, making her feel like if she gave an inch, everything could slip out of her grasp.
Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Just… next time, run it by me, okay?”
Jake met her eyes, his gaze unwavering. “Okay,” he said softly, but there was a hint of disappointment in his voice. He stood, and after confirming she was feeling better, he turned back toward the door. “I’ll be inside if you need anything.”
As the door closed behind him, Capri let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging. The sight of the new furniture, so thoughtfully placed, now felt heavy with the weight of her own stubbornness.
She glanced at the chairs again, the simple beauty of them mocking her resistance. Jake had only been trying to help, and she had turned it into a battleground over something deeper than either of them could name.
Capri sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, the guilt settling in. She knew she was wrong. But admitting that to herself was one thing. Letting go of the control she clung to so fiercely?
That was something else entirely.
25
The late afternoon sun sank toward the horizon, stretching long shadows across the yard. Capri stood near the open garage, the scent of freshly cut wood mingling with the crisp mountain air. Pine and sagebrush teased her senses, but the faint smell of sawdust and varnish brought her back to the task at hand.
Jake had the radio playing softly in the background—a country song she didn’t recognize—and the rhythmic sound of his hammer striking nails blended with the breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby aspens.
The cabin renovations were moving along, but Capri couldn’t shake the unease that clung to her ever since Jake had shown up with the patio furniture—sturdy and timeless, made of dark, weathered wood with thick, hand-carved details that spoke of craftsmanship.
Jake meant it as a thoughtful gesture. But to Capri, it felt like a loss of control—a symbol of the small but growing divide between what she wanted and what he was offering. She’d overreacted and thrown herself into another panic episode.
Worse? He’d witnessed it.
Her hand tightened around the measuring tape, the sharp bite of the metal immediately causing her to pull back. “Ouch!”
Her outburst caught Jake’s attention. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She shook her head as she sucked on the tiny cut on her thumb. “Just careless.” She measured the next plank.
Capri forced herself to focus, cutting lengths of wood for the beams, but her hands trembled as she reached for the saw.
Being around Jake unsettled Capri in ways she hadn’t expected. His calm, unruffled nature was like a quiet current she couldn’t escape. There was a confidence in the way he carried himself, his deep voice unhurried, never rattled, which both grounded her and made her want to pull away. But it was more than just his demeanor. There was something about the way he moved, the way his broad shoulders filled out a simple flannel shirt, or how his hands—strong, capable, and deliberate—caught her attention, especially the ease with which he handled things, whether it was a hammer or a bundle of wood.
The faint scruff along his jaw, the hint of muscles under his work-worn clothes, and the way his eyes softened when he looked at her made her pulse quicken. She was drawn to him, no question about it, but that pull terrified her as much as it thrilled her.
Even now, she could feel his gaze on her, lingering more often than not. It was a wonder he got anything done with how many times he kept looking her way.
Capri felt a flicker of warmth beneath her unease, a mixture of flattery and frustration. Part of her wanted to meet his gaze, to acknowledge the attention, but she focused on the task at hand, unwilling to let down her guard.
Capri realized she needed a carpenter’s square to make sure her cuts were precise. Glancing around, she couldn’t find it among the scattered tools. Her eyes settled on Dick’s old toolbox, perched on a high shelf in the garage. With a small sigh, she reached for it, feeling the familiar weight of the weathered metal. When she opened the lid, her breath caught. Lying there, nestled among the worn tools, was a small toy stick horse Dick had carved for her when she was young. Its wood was smooth and simple, the kind of thing only a child would treasure. Tears pricked at her eyes as the memories came rushing back.
Jake noticed her pause and stepped closer, setting down his measuring tape. “Everything alright?” he asked, his voice soft as he nodded toward the toy horse.
Capri blinked, trying to steady herself. “Dick made this for me when I was little,” she said quietly, her fingers grazing the polished wood. “Back before...before things started to fall apart.”
