I Can Fix That

Chapter 27

JUNE

2 MONTHS LATER

Summer was almost over.

It was pouring rain today, and when I searched through my apartment for my rain jacket, I couldn’t find it. I assumed it was in one of the boxes stacked ceiling-high in my apartment guest room, so I shrugged and decided it wasn’t worth sorting through.

I tapped on my phone to pull up Ashley’s contact, seeing if she was meeting me at the house today.

“Hey there, my June bug!” Her voice was extra enthusiastic this morning, and I would bet it had something to do with Beau. They had been together for almost three months now, and they had been inseparable lately. I missed seeing my best friend more, but I was also glad she found someone who was just as crazy and hyper as she was.

“Hey, are you going to the house today?” I heard her make a clicking noise with her tongue, followed by a long sigh.

“No, I’m sorry, love. Beau and I made plans to go to town today. But I can come up there tomorrow, I promise!”

I hide my disappointment. “That’s fine; I was just checking. I’ll catch up with you later.” We said our goodbyes and I left the conversation on the best note I could. Just because Grant wasn’t here didn’t mean that Ashley needed to be as miserable as I was.

I put on my painting clothes and walked out to my car. I pulled out of my parking spot and drove to Gram’s house. The outside was finished, and it looked amazing. Beau had the landscape guys come out and add the final touches of dark mulch and flower beds to the front and side property.

Ever since Grant left, I told Beau that his team could only manage the stuff I knew I couldn’t. I was sick of relying on others, and I felt the need to prove myself by finishing up what Grant had started. Today was painting day. I had an office that was going to be all white with the exception of one accent wall that would be a dark green board and batten wall. It matched my wood desk perfectly and added enough masculine touch, so all my pink items didn’t overwhelm the room.

So far, I had painted almost the whole house by myself, except for Ashley helping me in the dining room. I wasn’t the best painter out there; I’m sure if Grant were here, he could’ve handled it a lot better. His skilled, steady hands would’ve given these corners some clean-cut lines. But I wasn’t too shabby. It took me longer than I had planned, but I felt good knowing I had put my own work into the house.

I hooked my phone up to my speaker and played my painting playlist in the background. I laid the plastic cover across my refinished hardwoods and taped it along the trim. Yesterday I attached the board and batten to the wall, and now that it’d had time to sit after being sanded, I was ready to go.

I used an angled brush to make sharp, smooth lines across the wood. No matter how hard I tried, I always managed to get paint all over me—in my hair, between my nails, on my clothes. But it honestly made me excited, knowing that the dirt and paint showed that a good day’s work was finished when I got home. Now that I didn’t have any more volunteer work for the summer, I spent most of my time at the house finishing up all the last-minute projects. Last week, I even replaced a light fixture by myself! Well, Ashley guided me. But I was so proud of myself.

Being at the house was the only way I still felt connected to Grant. I thought of him everywhere I went, but the ghost of him walked through this house with me while I worked.

I would see him in the cabinets he installed, or the new ceilings he stamped on, even the stupid tile I never could get down. He was laced through this house like he was laced through my heart, and I was somehow with him when I was here. I hadn’t heard from him since the day he left my apartment. I cried for about a week straight

before Ashley slapped some sense into me. Literally.

She got tired of me watching cheesy rom-coms and yelling at the TV while eating -more brownies than a human should consume in a day. After a week of it, she nearly knocked down my door and told me to get off my ass and make myself useful. At the time, I didn’t like it; I felt like I deserved time to get over Grant. But looking back now, that was exactly what I needed.

Ever since then, I’ve been coming to the house every day. Working in the backyard, painting, adding some final touches here and there. I had even built a small fireplace out of cinder blocks in the back. It was a great distraction, but nothing made him leave my mind.

I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to move into this house, knowing that every fiber of this place was filled with Grant. I hadn’t really processed actually moving out yet. I had almost all my things packed and ready to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to move anything here. The house was almost completely finished, and I hadn’t brought a single personal item over. I wasn’t even excited to move in anymore.

I had overwhelming guilt that I used to walk through this house, thinking of Gram and all her quirky characters, and now all I thought about was my Grant.

I knew he and Beau had been talking. Every time the three of us were hanging out and his phone rang, he left the room. It was better that way. If I heard Grant’s voice over the phone, I didn’t know what I’d do. Probably track him down and beg him to come home. But wherever he was and whatever he was doing, it was the right thing.

Grant needed time and space, he had never allowed himself to grieve, and I hoped he was finally getting some closure. I had doubting thoughts of what if he never came back, or what if he found someone else. It would always make my stomach queasy, and my skin crawl. But in the back of my mind, I knew. I knew Grant would come home to me one day.

It might be tomorrow or three years from now, but he would come back. And I’d be here for him when he did.

The music I was playing suddenly stopped, and I heard my phone ringing. I wiped off my paint-covered hands, saying a silent prayer that it was Grant who was calling. I reached down and flipped my phone up to face me. Mom. I sigh but answer.

“Good morning.” My tone was dry and probably sounded rude, but she had been doubling down lately on me ever since she found out the house was almost finished.

“Good morning, June. I wondered if you were ever going to call me.” News flash, I wasn’t.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with the house and all. I’m almost finished now, should be finished by this weekend if you want to come and see it.” None of the family had seen the house since the estate sale, where they walked around complaining about the smell and how ugly it was.

“I think we’re busy this weekend. Your dad’s got a conference over at the club we need to make an appearance at.” I sighed and picked at the dried paint on my leg.