Tell Me It’s Right (Sweetspire #1)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

LIAM

“Fletch, it’s a fucking deathtrap in here.” I duck beneath a plastic sheet a few feet inside the front door. The entire living room has been stripped to its foundations, and it looks like he’s taken one of the walls out entirely. A few work lights are set up, casting shadows over the rest of the space, and Fletcher is nowhere to be seen.

“You just don’t see the vision!” he calls.

I follow his voice toward the kitchen at the back of the house, one of the few rooms that’s starting to come together. I never saw the house before he started the renovations, only pictures. It was outdated, cramped, and falling apart—the perfect house for Fletch’s first solo flip. I’m not sure if it’s still considered that if he’s planning on living in it afterward.

He grins as I step around the corner. “You brought beer.”

“You told me to. Three times.” I set the six pack on the counter and look around. The new countertops, appliances, and cabinets are in. Now it looks like he’s down to installing the hardware and light fixtures.

He shakes his head and opens a bottle. “You missed all the fun. Demo is the best part.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You need a hand?”

I consider myself fairly handy, but it’s nothing compared to Fletcher. His parents do this for a living, and he’s been helping since he was a teenager. He probably could’ve built this entire house from scratch by himself if he wanted to.

He waves me off when I go for the cabinet handles sitting on the counter.

“If you don’t want me to help, why am I here?”

He bends down to screw the handles into the lower cabinets. “To entertain me, obviously.”

At least it’s better than what I was doing before I got his text—sitting alone in the dark shop, ditching sketch after sketch halfway through until I had a mountain of crumpled-up pages lying beside the trashcan, checking the time every ten fucking seconds.

I glance at my watch. 9 PM.

Absolutely nothing significant about that time.

“Li?” I blink back to the room to find Fletcher leaning against the counter, beer in hand and staring at me. “You good?”

“Of course.” I grab a beer for myself and resist the urge to check my phone. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me today.

Fletcher’s eyes narrow.

“So the kitchen looks basically done, right?” I add. “What’s next?”

He stares at me for another second like he’s debating pushing it, but then that easy smile is back as he sips his beer. “Living room next. Bathroom down here is already done.” He nods to the hall that connects the living room and kitchen. “We’re doing from back to front on this floor, then we’ll start on the second.”

I pace through the hall to peek in the bathroom. He replaced everything—shower, toilet, sink, counter. It’s still small, but it looks nice. Sleek, modern. Nothing particularly personable about it.

“ So ,” he says as I step into the room again. “How are you doing? Heard about the Makayla and Hailey thing.”

“Asher,” I mutter under my breath.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Okayyy.” He lifts his palms in a placating gesture. “Off-limits, I get it.” He slides another few handles off the counter and gets started on the row of cabinets overhead. “Where the hell did you get off to the past few days then?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

I twist the bottle between my hands and ignore the look I can feel him giving me. “So I decided to get out of town for a few days. Get some fresh air.”

He hums. “I get that. Anywhere in particular?”

In truth, it’s a bit of a blur. I started driving that night, figuring I’d get it out of my system and turn around within an hour or two.

But then I just kept driving, and driving, and driving.

Filled up on gas. Stopped at a motel when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Then woke up and did it all over again until I felt like I could breathe, then I turned around.

“Savannah.”

Fletcher freezes with his arm midway to the cabinet. “As in… Georgia ?”

I nod.

“You drove all the way down to Georgia,” he repeats.

“You want me to draw you a map or what?”

He blinks a few times, shakes his head, then resumes screwing in the handle. “All right. Just for future reference, I’m a great road trip companion.”

“You would’ve been yapping the entire time.”

He grins. “Exactly. No falling asleep at the wheel on my watch.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So how’s Gracie Collins working out at the shop?”

My stomach drops, and I glance at my watch again without thinking.

Fletcher catches it because he always fucking catches everything.

“Good, I think,” I say, my voice light. “Everything I’ve seen her do so far is a million times better than anything I could come up with. And she hasn’t quit yet. You sure you don’t want help with those?”

Fletcher waves me off with a smirk as I take a step forward. “You’ll put them on upside down or something. No.”

“You’re such a control freak. You’d be done in half the time if you let someone else help.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” He moves on to the lower cabinets beside the fridge. “Now, stop trying to change the subject and tell me about Gracie.”

I rock back on my heels. “She’s like a drill sergeant. Is making me be in all these pictures and stuff.”

A smile tugs at one corner of Fletcher’s mouth as he stands and leans against the counter, and I don’t at all like that look in his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

I sip my beer. “Then what did you mean?”

“I mean , I happen to know Gracie is on a date with Miles Cushing tonight, and in the five minutes you’ve been here, you’ve checked your phone eight times.”

It takes everything in me not to bristle at Miles’s name. Hearing it makes my imagination run wild. It digs up every memory I have of the kid, every fucked-up thing he’s been caught up in. The hazing he used to do to the younger kids on the swim team—pissing in their Gatorade bottles and filming them as a group of seniors forced them to drink it. Not to mention the drug arrests, the trespassing, the vandalizing school property. Not that he ever went down for any of it.

Maybe that’s what rubs me the wrong way the most. His damn cocky smile and that I-can-get-out-of-anything glint in his eye. I can’t even fathom what someone like Gracie would see in him.

“I don’t see how those two things are related,” I mumble.

“Right.” He sets his beer on the counter, crosses his arms, and shrugs. “I’ve always liked Gracie. We didn’t have a lot of classes together, but she was nice. Quiet, but nice. Weird fucking match with Miles though.”

Fletcher’s never acted younger than me, so it’s easy to forget the age difference. That he was in the same year as Gracie, so of course he’d run into her more than I did back then. A weird, prickly feeling sets up camp in my chest at the thought.

He’s not smirking at me now, exactly, but he’s baiting me, and we both know it. He’s always read between the lines better than anyone I’ve ever met, like he just somehow knows everything . So I can either keep digging myself into a hole of lies here while he pretends not to notice, or we can both drop the bullshit.

“I’m…concerned,” I admit.

He hums.

“I don’t like Miles.”

He hums again. “Me neither.”

“And she’s…” I trail off, not knowing how to end that sentence. Too good for him doesn’t begin to cover it. I don’t even like the idea of him looking at her. I settle for “My best friend’s sister. And Leo’s not in town. Don’t think he knows about it.”

“So naturally the protective duty falls to you by default.” Now he’s smirking at me. “Do you know where they are?”

I scowl. “No.”

He nods. “Liam.”

I swallow a mouthful of beer. “Hm?”

“She doesn’t need a bodyguard.”

I say nothing.

“She can handle herself. I’m sure she’s fine. In fact, I don’t think this has anything to do with you being worried about her.”

I scoff. “You’re way off base, man.”

He stares at me for a moment like he can see right through me, but I see it in his eyes the moment he decides against whatever he was going to say. He nods to the side instead. “I could use some help with the deck out back if you want to hammer some shit.”

That actually sounds like exactly what I need.