DIY Hearts: a #LoveHack story by Verlene Landon

Author:Verlene Landon [Landon, Verlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub

CLAYTON

It was obvious there was a war raging inside her. Clay recognized the signs easily. God, how many times have I seen that look on Mom’s face? On rare occasions it still crossed her face.

Waiting until he had permission to step forward, he relieved himself of his toolbox. Placing it gently without marring the finish on the café style table.

“May I sit?” He didn’t really need to sit, but it would put her in a position of power. Give her warning if he moved. The sound of the chair would give him away. She had to turn her back to make coffee, yet she stood staring at him.

It was late for coffee, but he could use the extra energy.

Once he sat, she slowly turned and gave him her back. There was a slight tremble in her hands. Clearing his throat before he spoke, so as not to spook her. “So, you’ve known Jess since middle school, right?”

“Yes.” Okay, so she was not volunteering any extra information. He knew the story already of how they met when Jess switched schools and then how they reconnected later, but he wanted to hear it from her.

Veronica turned and set the cup on the table and then slid it toward him before stepping back to her original position leaning against the counter. Roscoe stepped back into his station as guardian.

He drank his coffee in awkward silence. So, small talk is out. She was clearly uncomfortable with this one-on-one interaction, so he gulped down the rest of his coffee so they could get to work.

“Well, I guess we should get to it. Are you ready to fix a dryer?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, point me the right direction and let’s see what we’re working with.”

When she pointed rather than stepped forward, Clay rose and took the lead. It made sense in his head that she wouldn’t want a man following her down the hall. A wave of anger washed over him. Someone purposely did that to her. The anger he felt wasn’t just for her, it was for his mother and for every person in the world who’d suffered such a thing.

People shouldn’t feel that way in their own home. Home means safety and security. The place you can be yourself without worrying about the outside world, but that wasn’t the case for his mom or Veronica. They would always see home differently than other people. It would never be a hundred-percent haven. Best case scenario was to get that percentage as high as possible.

Even though it had been decades since his mom’s attack, she was at a solid ninety-five percent. There were still and would always be things she did differently, but his mother lives a full life and he hoped Veronica would too.

Grabbing his toolbox, he headed down the narrow hallway she’d indicated.

“On the left,” she said.

He turned as she instructed and holy moly. The laundry room was massive—bigger than his bedroom in the trailer. There was a long folding table built into the wall with cherry wood cabinets above and below.

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