Page 46 of On the Shelf

“I turned around. But I want you to know I started before I stopped.”

“But why?” Niall couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “It’s a great opportunity. Lucrative.”

“Double my old contract, full control, the works.” Chuck shrugged. “I won’t leave. I can’t.” He didn’t say the number out loud. He’d said it twice in Lydia’s parlor with a glass in his hand and once to the windshield on the way up. The number didn’t matter.

Niall searched Chuck’s face for the catch, the flinch, the tell that he was already half gone. Nothing. Just Chuck, looking back.

“What did Helen say when you told her that?” he asked, still trying to get a handle on whatever had gone down.

“More hints and insinuations.” Chuck’s expression darkened. “She knew people. I was a danger. You deserved better. Who even cares? I certainly don’t. I’ve worked with people far cooler and richer than that old icepick.”

“And what did you say?”

“Exactly that. Look, I don’t owe that woman a thing. If you love her or Winnie loves her, that’s your business. For my money, what she did was disgusting.” Chuck reached across the counter and took Niall’s hand. “I told her to piss off. I told her I’m staying, Niall. For as long as you and Winnie want me here.”

Niall let himself want it, like light through a wiped window. “And if that’s a long time?”

“Then I’ll be sticking around a long time.” Chuck nodded, once. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. I’m still me—definitely not perfect. But I want to try. Really try.”

“I want that too.” Niall squeezed Chuck’s hand. “She doesn’t matter. Winnie doesn’t trust her as it is. Anyhow, I told her much the same. I got so mad about her muscling you. Well, I warned her she has no rights as a grandparent. I told her I’d put a stop to any visitation.”

“You did not.”

“To her face. Before you walked in here, as it happens. I didn’t know what you’d decided, and I did it anyway.” He planted that between them. “She doesn’t have rights. Even if she did, once Elise abandoned us, no court would consider the Yaos fit guardians for a kid. She knows it. She’s lonely and bitter. I’m not even mad.”

“I am. She’s awful. Plus she treats you like a rag. Winnie worse. Helen better clean up her act or she will not like the results. I’m a scrappy mutt, and nobody messes with my family. Trust.”

“Your family. I love that.” Niall sighed. The tension rushed out of him and he felt boneless and blessed.

Chuck’s whole face dropped its guard. “So we’re okay?”

“So much better than okay,” Niall confirmed. “Please, the next time something big happens—like a windfall or a wicked stepmother-in-law—talk to me first, all right? No secrets.”

“Then here’s one more before you shake on it. First day I climbed up on your roof, Helen stood right about there and did her best to protect you. She was right to do it. I was wrong not to tell you, because I wanted to stay.”

“She was right for the wrong reasons. I can’t blame you for that. So, no more secrets.”

“Deal.” Chuck leaned across the counter to seal the promise with a kiss—gentle and scratchy. “Not from you.”

That afternoon Niall sold a set of encyclopedias while Chuck dressed the treehouse. Gavin had come through with fake leaves, plaster, chicken wire, and a silicone bark mold that worked perfectly. Chuck spent the rest of the day texturing the trunk and the branches, adding knots and rolls that made it feel more organic. Painting and sealing would require shutting the store, so they planned to delay those till the next long weekend.

Niall watched Chuck and Gavin work on the bark and marveled at the change in him—the tension was gone from his shoulders, replaced by a focused energy that seemed almost joyful. He moved with purpose, with certainty, as if the decision to stay had freed something in him. For his part, Gavin was now a fan, either because his knotholes looked more authentic or because he’d seen the tree through to the end.

When Winnie arrived home from school, her face lit up at the sight of the treehouse, its bark on at last. “It’s amazing!” she exclaimed as she raced to climb the ladder Chuck had attached to the bookshelves. “It looks just like a real treehouse!”

“It is a real treehouse.” Chuck steadied the ladder as she climbed. “Just indoors, where you can use it all year round.”

From her perch on the platform, Winnie surveyed her domain with obvious delight. “This is the best thing ever. I need a cat.”

“Oh no. That’s one for your dad.”

“We can convince him. Cats are very independent. Then with the branches, they can live up here where nobody can bother them.” She crossed her arms, confident in her logic. “Can I read up here? Right now?”

“Six hours yet. Bark’s still soft, and I have to seal it. But as soon as the paint dries on the railings, she’s all yours,” Chuck promised. “How about tomorrow after school?”

“Tomorrow,” Winnie agreed with a solemn nod. She climbed back down.

“We’ll seal it this weekend. So that means all next week you’re on extra natural leaf duty.”