Ford seemed to get it. “That’s a lot.”
“Not compared to what some people go through,” I said, which was the canned answer I always used when someone tried to feel sorry for me.
He pulled himself out of the cabinet and looked at me with a kind of softness I didn’t expect. “You don’t have to downplay it. You’re doing a lot.”
I shrugged, unwilling to accept the compliment.
The kitchen felt smaller than usual. I could smell his cologne, something woodsy and a little bit sweet, like cedar and honey.
He held up the piece of pipe he removed, and tapped the metal. “See that?”
I nodded, though I had no idea what I was seeing.
“It’s cracked all the way through.”
“I’m no expert, but I’m guessing that’s bad?”
He laughed, his eyes doing a little twinkling thing that made me weak in the knees.
“Yeah, but not anymore. I replaced your p-trap so the main leak is fixed. But the faucet itself is leaking too, and there’s no fixing that. It’ll have to be replaced.
“Oh. Well, thank you. I’ll call the landlord in the morning.”
Ford shook his head. “No need. I’ve got extras at the ranch from all the reno I’m doing. I’ll bring one over—install it, too. Won’t cost you a thing.”
I felt a flush rise to my face, half embarrassment, half something else. “You really don’t have to?—”
“Lily,” he said, voice low but firm. “Let me help.”
His eyes pinned me to the spot. For the first time tonight, I noticed the wound behind them. Not fragile, exactly. Just—exposed. Like he was daring me to say yes, and hoping I wouldn’t say no.
I nodded, too thrown to muster more than a word. “Okay.”
A long silence filled the kitchen, stretching out until I heard Noah yawn from the living room.
“Mama,” he called, and I peeked around the corner. Noah was curled up on the couch, one truck under his cheek, the other in a death grip. His eyes were already drifting shut.
I turned back to Ford, who had that look again—soft, almost sad, like he wanted to say something and couldn’t find the words.
“I better get him to bed,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Yeah,” he said. “I should head out. Don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
There was something in the way he lingered at the door, toolbox hanging from his fingers like a suitcase. I realized that, for all his confidence, Ford was just as unsure as I was.
He opened the door, then paused. “Lock up, Lily. Seriously.”
“I always do,” I said, but it came out softer than I meant. Like a promise.
Ford hesitated, then stepped out into the hall. For a second, I thought that was it—that he’d leave, and the air would go back to normal.
But he turned back, caught my eye, and for a moment, it felt like gravity tilted toward him. Like he was about to say something important.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said, but his voice was different this time—rough around the edges, as if he was fighting himself.
I nodded, clutching the door.
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the faint sharpness of metal and cedar on his skin. Then, before I could process what was happening, he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Justa quick, warm touch, more whisper than anything else. But it sent a shock straight down my spine.
