Build it Strong (The Ballard Brothers of Darling Bay Book 2)

by Rachael Herron

  For one second, he allowed himself to imagine Tuesday.

  Living in this house.

  With him.

  It was such an idiotic idea—he knew that firmly, deeply. He knew it all the way to his bones.

  But he also knew that the thought was something that made him feel almost…hopeful.

  Tuesday wouldn’t be here yet, he told himself. She’d sleep in, probably. Maybe she’d dream a little of him. Yeah, Aidan liked the image that brought to his mind. Her in bed—did she sleep naked?—rolling over, waking to the memory of kissing him. Maybe she’d touch her lips, maybe she’d touch herself lower…

  Nope, nope, nope. Think about something else. He thought about the way his favorite saw had rusted when he’d accidentally left it outside five years back. Instant bone-killer. He needed to keep it PG if he was going to do any honest work today.

  “Hey! I got donuts!”

  He heard a few grumbles from the kitchen where his crew had been tearing out a wall (the correct one). They were just settling in, dropping jackets in the corner, plugging in power saws and unrolling plans. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.” Socal, who stayed thin and angular no matter what she ate, reached for a glazed cream-filled.

  Sturgeon lunged forward and grabbed a jelly donut, but Bass hung back. The fish boys were best friends, with no higher ambition that getting through the work day safely so they could go smoke a joint while fishing on their days off. They were sweet and not-so-smart but both were incredibly handy, and they didn’t mind doing the heavy grunt work. Their nicknames had been given to them as kids, and were so stuck to them now that Aidan couldn’t ever remember what their legal names were. Liam knew—he cut the checks—but Aidan didn’t care.

  “What’s up, Bass?” Aidan waved a hand. “The maple glazed I just ate was still a little warm.”

  Socal gave a happy moan. “Mine is, too.”

  Bass shook his head. “I’m gluten-free.”

  Sturgeon pushed his ball cap back and stared. “Since when.”

  “Like, a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Like, two weeks.”

  Sturgeon scowled. “Since you started dating that Cindy girl.”

  “That’s not it.”

  “She’s what, a vegan?”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true! What are you gonna do next, give up fishing?”

  Bass stared at Sturgeon as if he’d stabbed him. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”

  “If the shoe fits…”

  Socal shook her donut in the air, catching the spilling cream with one finger. “Children. Let mommy eat her donut.”

  Aidan snorted. “Mommy needs to tell me how the kitchen’s going.”

  Socal gave a visible shudder. “I already regret saying that word out loud. Okay, we’ve got the old cabinets out and the fish boys took them over to Zach’s workshop. He doesn’t think there’s much worth saving, but he’ll give it his best shot. We haven’t found the right countertops yet.”

  “No marble?”

  “Tuesday told Felicia she was kidding about that.”

  Huh.

  Socal shrugged. “Felicia said she’d be back in a little while to get you on camera talking about the top floor, but she disappeared, and I’m honestly not sure where she is. I gotta say, she looked a little green.”

  “Green?”

  “Like she has the flu or something. If she does, can you tell her to stay out of the kitchen? I’m planning on eating nothing but donuts today, and that’ll lower my immune system.”

  “Eat some regular food, then.”

  “Hell, no.” Socal stuck out her arms. “Put the whole box in Mommy’s arm so she can cradle it.” She shivered. “That’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever said. And I can’t believe I haven’t been saying it this whole time. The look on your face is priceless.”

  Aidan pushed the box her direction and went to look for Felicia. Luckily, the network never had any interest in the actual construction part. They wanted a few shots of the buyer and whoever she was dating doing some work. In one episode, the buyer had painted the front door (badly—they’d had to redo it when the cameras left). In another, the buyer had “helped” replaster the laundry room ceiling, and had gotten a glob of topcoat in her eye. The show had made that uneventful visit to the ER into an “I almost died” segment. Really, she’d just needed her eyeball rinsed out.

  “Felicia?” She wasn’t on the first floor, and she didn’t appear to be in the backyard. He headed upstairs.

  “Anyone up here?” he called.

  “Go away.” A small voice came from the end of the hallway.

  She didn’t sound right. Aidan hurried to the bathroom door. “Felicia?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He knocked. “Come on, let me in.”

  A groan was his answer.

  The door was unlocked.

  Felicia sat on the floor. Her face, normally perfectly made-up, was pale and sweaty. Her shirt was unbuttoned, showing her tank top underneath. She rested with her forehead on the rim of the seat.

  “That looks truly unhygienic, and I eat at the hot dog place on the way to Eureka.”

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, raising her head.

  “Where’s Liam?”

  “At the office.”

  Aidan pulled out his cell. “I’m calling him.”

  “No!” She held up a hand. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re so not fine. You need to go to the doctor. Or home to bed, at a minimum.”

  “Aidan.” Her voice sounded desperate. “I’m really fine. I promise you.”

  “What—this is just morning sickness or something?”

  Her face gave her away.

  “Holy shit. You’re pregnant.” Something dropped away in his stomach.

  She dropped her head again. “We were going to tell you and Jake together. Oh, God, Liam will be so disappointed I told you.”

  “Oh, my God. Congratulations.” He should have seen this coming. Why hadn’t he? Liam was the oldest. He was supposed to fall in love, get married, and have a baby before Aidan and Jake did.

  That was life.

  That was the good life.

  Jealousy? Of his brother’s perfect set up?

  That was some bullshit, and he was a better man than that.

  “I think the worst is over.”

  He held out his hand. “Can you stand up?”

  Felicia nodded. He helped her up, her palm clammy and cold in his. He ran the water in the sink till it was hot, and then handed her two paper towels from the roll that had been tossed in the tub.

  Then, after she’d washed and dried her face and hands, when he was sure she wasn’t going to drop into another crouch, he hugged her.

  “Congratulations, sister.” He’d never called her that before. “I’m so happy for you two.”

  Felicia gave a soft hiccup and pulled away. “Thank you.”

  “You’re excited.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I’m terrified. But yeah, we’re excited. Liam can’t stand it—we were going to tell you both tonight, I swear it. We’ve only known for a day or two. It’s still early, we’re not telling anyone else yet.”

  A creak of the floorboards made them look toward the doorway, but there was no one there.

  Chapter 16

  T

  uesday backed quietly down the hall, tiptoeing until she reached the far end, then she went as quietly down the stairs as she could. She made her way into the living room, where drop cloths protected the hardwood from the sawdust that drifted everywhere. She pressed her hands to her face.

  She shouldn’t have eavesdropped. She hadn’t meant to. She’d been looking for Aidan—why? To thank him for the donuts? It was a thin excuse, but one she’d been planning on using anyway—and when she’d heard Aidan say Holy shit, she’d gotten closer, concerned.

  Felicia Turbinado, the showrunner, was pregnant.

  She w
as Liam Ballard’s girlfriend. It sounded like they were happy about the pregnancy.

  Great.

  Tuesday closed her eyes.

  It really was great. For Felicia and Liam and their whole family, it was going to be an amazing thing.

  Tuesday just had to face facts—that unless she moved to a nunnery, she’d be around pregnant women at some point. She thought about the satisfied, almost greedy way women kept a hand on their belly when they were pregnant. As if they needed to telegraph their status, as if they worried people might just think they were fat. Did they ever stop to think of the pain they were causing, just by their very existence?

  Of course they didn’t.

  Tuesday was the freak show, the problem, the broken one.

  Not them.

  Diana, they’re everywhere.

  Diana had two little ones of her own. Right at this moment, all the way across the country, she was probably busy doing something for them. That’s what she was best at.

  Tuesday would never send the email to her ex-best friend.

  Anyway, the work on this show would take less than a month, so they were almost halfway through already. Felicia wouldn’t even be showing by the time it was done. Hopefully it would continue to be a secret, and Tuesday could pretend she knew nothing.

  It was a small town, though, and Felicia had already been sweet to her. Tuesday had liked her, too. She’d been happy that this network executive, the one she’d be working most closely with, was actually a resident in town. She was the partner of one of the Ballard Brothers. They’d met and fallen in love on TV.

  Tuesday had come to Darling Bay for a new life, for the house of her dreams. For escape. The dating she’d have to do on the show was something she hadn’t worried about—she’d just go on the dates, and then her house would be done to her exact specifications, and then she’d live in this new-to-her sweet, small town.

  As she decided on the next step in her life, she’d hang out with new friends.

  Like Felicia. That’s what she had hoped, anyway.

  “Hey, you.” Aidan’s voice came from behind her. “When did you get here?”

  She stuck a plastic smile on her lips—the one she’d used in the classroom when parents yelled at her, disappointed that she hadn’t given Johnny an A for not doing a lick of work all year. “Just a second ago.”

  He wore a denim jacket with a black corduroy collar. His tool belt hung from his hips, and his wide hands hung at his sides. His eyes were smoky, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  Had he not slept much, either? Tuesday had kept falling into sleep, but her dreams were full of his hands, his lips, the sound of his voice.

  “Hey,” he said again. He smiled, and the warmth reached those dark blue eyes of his. How did he not have a squad of women flocking at his heels, hoping for just one of those grins?

  To be fair, Felicia was behind him. “Hi, Tuesday. Aidan said there’re donuts in the kitchen.” A wave of chartreuse swept up her cheeks. Weakly, she added, “You should go have one.”

  “Are you okay?” It would have looked suspicious not to ask.

  Felicia touched her stomach. “A touch of food poisoning, I think. We had clams last night. Maybe that’s it. I bet that’s what it is. I think.”

  She was a bad liar. Not like Tuesday, who lied boldfaced to one of the producers when still in the selection process nodded. Yes, I’m absolutely okay with the idea of falling in love on camera. Yes, I’m open to marriage. Yes, I’m open to having children. “Of course. You should go home and rest.”

  Felicia tugged the bottom of her tank top. “A little more coffee, and I’ll be right as rain. We’re going to do some new walk-through takes with Aidan and you in about thirty minutes, that okay? Since this lug saw fit to hammer his way through the wall that needed to stay in the kitchen, we can’t really use that footage.”

  Aidan grimaced. “I thought I was helping.”

  “You did not. You were mad.” Felicia flicked a look at her watch. “I’ve got to find Anna. Meet me back here at eight?”

  Tuesday nodded. So did Aidan.

  Felicia left the room, taking all the air with her.

  Tuesday felt the top of her lungs contract. She wouldn’t look right at him. No.

  But it was like when she was little, when her mother had told her not to look directly at the partial eclipse. After she’d heard the order, she’d wanted nothing so much as to look. So Tuesday had. She hadn’t been able to see anything around the bright burn on her retina for an hour afterward.

  Aidan felt that bright. Then he smiled at her again, and the wattage went up by a million. “So, have you thought more about dumping Jake?”

  Chapter 17

  T

  uesday had thought about it. With little resolution. She wanted to choose Aidan—she wanted badly to pick him. “I’ve thought about it,” she started.

  “Yeah?”

  “I want to know something. Why were you so mad that day you beat the wall with a mallet?”

  “It was a sledgehammer, and I wasn’t angry with you.”

  “Yes, you were. I could tell.”

  He shook his head slowly, and his eyes bored into hers. “I swear to you. I wasn’t mad at you. I was angry at a situation.”

  “What situation?”

  “One that’s changed a little now.”

  “How?”

  “I kissed you.”

  Her scar felt hot under her shirt. “No, that’s not it. You wanted to run me out of town, and then you change your mind, just like that? It makes me nervous.”

  “That I want to see more of you than just on the job site? Makes me nervous, too.”

  Yeah, right. Everything about the confident Aidan—from the top of his dark brown hair to the tips of dusty work boots—made her feel skittish. Once, when she was young, she’d adopted a feral kitten who would only come to her in her sleep, when she was as still as possible. Tuesday would wake up, the cat curled warmly into her side, but the second she moved, the cat was gone.

  Tuesday felt like the cat, her nerves on red alert. She longed to say yes. But if he moved too quickly, said a word that was halfway wrong, she’d skitter sideways out of the room. Maybe out of the state.

  Jake had been safe.

  Aidan was not.

  “I’ll let you know later today.”

  She expected him to protest. To push. Instead, he ducked his head. “Sounds good.” He looked out the window behind her. “You have a fairy in your garden, did you know that?”

  “Oh!” The long-haired girl she’d seen the first day at the garden gate was back. This time she was all the way in the yard. Her dress was green this time, and her tights were blue. Same orange sneakers. The girl stood with her arms crossed, staring up at the house as if waiting for someone. “I want to talk to her. You said her name’s Ella?”

  He nodded.

  “Will you call me when it’s time to do the filming?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  Tuesday made her way down through the busy kitchen and onto the back porch.

  The girl started. She turned to run back to the gate that was still ajar.

  “Wait!”

  The girl froze, one leg in her own yard, the rest of her body in Tuesday’s.

  “I’m your new neighbor.” Tuesday hurried down the grassy slope, past the weed-choked raised beds. “You’re Ella, right?”

  The girl turned slowly. “I didn’t mean to trespass.”

  “You’re not.”

  “Are you sure?” The girl rubbed at her neck. A long red scar, crinkled and thick, ran from her jaw into the top of her green smock.

  Tuesday forced her eyes away from the puckered skin. She nodded. “You’re only trespassing if you’re not allowed somewhere. And you’re allowed.”

  “I am?”

  “Sure. We’re neighbors. I’m Tuesday Willis.” She saw a thin blue vein jump in the girl’s throat right next to the scar.

  “Tuesday?”

&nbs
p; “I know, it’s weird, right?”

  The girl nodded, her brown eyes wide in her thin face. “Why did you get it?”

  “My name?”

  Another nod.

  “My dad’s a very literal guy. I was born on a Tuesday. You know the rhyme? Tuesday’s child is full of grace?”

  Ella looked at her blankly.

  “And he thought it would be sort of funny.”

  “It is funny.”

  Tuesday sighed. “Tell me about it.”

  “Did kids make fun of you? I met a boy called Grape once and he said everyone made fun of him all the time.”

  “Yep. I got teased a lot.”

  The girl blinked solemnly.

  Tuesday took a careful step forward. Clunky orange shoes aside, the child seemed ethereal, as if she might melt into mist any second. “And you’re Ella. Like Cinder?”

  Ella rolled her eyes, and Tuesday was relieved to see she really was a human child, not a garden figment. “Everyone says that.”

  “Do you hate it?”

  “Yes. Cinderella’s not even a good character.”

  “Why?”

  “She just runs away? Why? If she wanted the prince to love her, she just had to be herself anyway. She could have changed back into herself at midnight that first night, and the whole kingdom search never would have happened.”

  Probably because the prince wouldn’t have been interested once he got to know the real girl. “You live next door?”

  A nod.

  “Can I peek?” Tuesday gestured to the gate.

  Another nod.

  Through the gate and up a low rise stood a small green cottage. It had old gray shutters that might have been white once, and a tiny Miata sports car sat rusting next to a clothesline. The top was down, and looked like it had been for years. A slight smell of burnt matches, or overcooked eggs, hung in the air. “It looks…” Tuesday wasn’t sure what to say.