“Noah!” Gemma scolds. “No. She specifically said she didn’t want to see you, and I’m not gonna be the one who forces her.”
“You aren’t,” I argue, standing firm in my decision. “Tyler’s drivin’.”
Tyler snorts. “Babe, just let him.” He tries to calm her. “What’s the worst that can happen? She slams the door in his face?”
“Exactly!” Gemma shouts. “And never talks to me again.”
“Maybe she won’t,” I counter, though I know better. Those two are tied to the hip. “I just want to see her. Please. It’s been so long,” I plead softly, hoping she’ll take pity on me.
“Alright, fine. But if she pushes you off the porch or slaps you, don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
Katie Walker had been my best friend growing up. She was Gemma's friend and always over at the house, and we formed a friendship from there.
Even though I wanted more, I was too afraid of rejection and worried we’d ruin our friendship if it didn’t work out. It was more important to have her in my life, so I kept quiet and just enjoyed the time we spent together.
Since I was a coward and too young to truly understand my feelings for her, I didn't say a goddamn thing when Gabe asked her out. In fact, I'm pretty sure I encouraged it. The last thing I wanted to be seen as was the envious best friend or the jealous guy secretly in love with her. I really didn't expect their relationship to last, considering his reputation. Gabe was never the serious type of guy, at least by all the hookup stories he’d text me.
When we were twenty, he proposed, and Katie said yes. It didn’t sink in until I saw her baby bump a year after they got married that she’d forever be tied to Gabe.
And I would never have anything more than friendship with her. It was my own fault for never speaking up, and I’ll never know if she felt the same. Sometimes, I thought maybe she did, but when she never said anything either, I pushed it to the back of my mind.
So life went on like that until the night Gabe died.
I felt so damn ashamed I couldn’t stand to let her see me in prison. Even when she wrote and pleaded to let her come visit, I never wrote back.
And according to my sister, Katie hates me for it.
I don’t blame her one bit, but I’d like the chance to at least explain. I know I don’t deserve a second of her time, but I’ve learned a valuable lesson—life is too damn short.
An hour later, Tyler pulls into the driveway of an old beat-up farmhouse that I’m shocked is still standing.
“This is where she lives?” I ask, surprised.
“It needs a little TLC.” Tyler chuckles. “She’s planning to fix it up.”
Fix it up? At this rate, it’d be faster to demolish the whole thing and build it back from scratch.
“She hasn’t moved in yet, but she comes here every evening and weekend to work on it,” Gemma explains.
Inhaling a sharp breath, I grab the door handle. “Okay, wish me luck. Here goes nothin’.” I push open the door and step out. My heart races as I walk up onto the porch to the front door.
Nervously, I knock on the cracked wood, then wait as a million thoughts run through my mind.
Has time been good to her?
Does Owen look like Gabe?
Will she forgive me?
I hear footsteps, and when the door opens, I nearly lose my breath when I see Katie for the first time in a decade.
She’s even more stunning than I remembered. Her blond hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and dust and dry paint cover her shirt.
“Ka—”
Before I can even finish saying her name, she steps back and slams the door in my face.
I deserved that.
My head and heart drop.
When I get back to the SUV, everyone gives me the most pitiful looks.
“Yeah, she hates me.”
Tyler turns and looks at me. “Give her time.”
I scrunch my nose. “More time? How much more time should I give her?”
“Give her space,” Gemma clarifies as Tyler backs out of the driveway. “She’ll come around.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. Fuck, I hope so.
“Or here’s an idea…” Tyler begins. “She needs help on the new house, and Noah just so happens to be pretty good at fixing shit.”
I scoff. “Katie will never hire me.”
“She works during the day. She can’t say no if she doesn’t know…” Tyler grins at me through the mirror.
“Noooo…” Gemma shakes her head. “She’ll kill you for sure.”
“Actually, that’s not a horrible idea,” Dad blurts out.
“She might think it’s romantic,” Belinda adds.
I chuckle at their encouragement.
Gemma shakes her head. “Absolutely not. She wants to do it all herself.”
“Well, if she won’t give me a chance to talk, then I’ll show her how sorry I am instead,” I decide and shrug. “Start fixin’ things little by little until she notices. She won’t be able to slam the door when I’m already inside the house.”