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“What about the pizza—”

“Will still be here and delicious when we get back.” Chuck was already heading for the front. “Come on, live a little.”

Niall hesitated, then grabbed his keys, followed, and locked the door behind them. “This is nuts. You don’t have to. We could go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it might rain.” Chuck pointed up at the sky, already getting darker by the minute. “Your buckets don’t exactly scream waterproof. Unless you have a thing for drips.”

They climbed into Chuck’s truck—a battered blue Ford, older than either of them, but the inside was spotless. Chuck drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gearshift, totally at ease.

“So,” Chuck broke the silence as they headed down Main toward Candle Bay Hardware. “The bookstore… was that a happy accident?”

Niall let out a breath, eyes fixed on the passing storefronts. “Sort of. Yeah. My uncle Wally owned it. Walter. When he died, he left it to me, along with the apartment upstairs.”

Chuck glanced over, eyebrows raised. “So you just stepped in? What were you doing before?”

“I was in publishing. Well, barely. Editorial assistant at a small press in San Francisco back in the Stone Age… when MySpace roamed the Earth.” Niall’s lips quirked, mirthless.

Chuck gave a long whistle. “Big change.”

“Life comes at you fast.” Niall shrugged, not offering more. He didn’t mention Elise, or the stupid ways his plans had cracked apart the day she abandoned her entire life, him included. “What about you? How’d you end up building things? I figured you’d be fronting a punk band or Olympic cliff diving by now. Something off the chain.”

Chuck laughed. “Nah. I’ve always been good with my hands. Got into construction back in high school. Learned as I went, then went once I’d learned. Later, I went back to school for engineering. But I never lost the taste for the hands-on stuff.”

“Engineering?” Niall blinked. “That’s impressive.”

Chuck’s grin faded at the edges. “Would be, if I’d stuck with it.”

A story there, Niall could tell, but he didn’t pry. Everyone had places they didn’t want to go.

They pulled into the hardware store lot with eleven minutes to spare. Chuck hopped out and strode to the door like he lived there. He grabbed a cart and started to load it up—roofing tar, patching compound, molding, and a bunch of other stuff Niall couldn’t name. Niall couldn’t tell what was necessary and what was just optional but on sale. Either way, the total at the register was higher than he expected.

He reached for his wallet, but Chuck waved him off. “I got this.”

“Chuck, no. It’s my store. My responsibility.”

“Consider it my contribution to the arts. A bookstore is cultural, right? You said I needed more culture.”

“I didn’t. You said that.” He shook his wallet. “At least let me pay half.”

“Nope.” Chuck handed over his credit card. “Buy me a six-pack sometime if you’re that bothered.”

Outside, Niall hauled a bag of patching compound into the truck bed and turned the offer over. A beer. Like friends. Or not. Niall wasn’t sure which possibility made him more nervous.

Back at the shop, they sat at the counter and ate their pizza while Chuck explained the plan. He paced as he pointed and mapped it all out for Niall. “The patches are temporary.” He wiped his hands on a napkin and sat back down with a sheepish chuckle. “Sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about?”

“I hop around when I’m thinking out loud. Dumb habit. I get worked up talking it through with the client.”

“I guess that makes me the client.”

“Sure does, my man.” Chuck raised his soda in a toast. “You’ll still need a real roof sooner or later, but this should hold off the leaks for now.”

“I appreciate it,” Niall said, and he meant it. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Chuck looked away. “It’s no big deal. Like I told you, I need something to do.”

“Still. Thank you.”