Free Good for You by Tammara Webber

to take a hammer to the drywal myself. It’s too bad there’s no demolition on this job, because I’d be a whirling dervish of destruction today.
    Gabriel e and I could team up and take down a house this size like twin tornadoes.
    After lunch (during which Reid and I sit on opposite sides of the yard), I grab the ratchet screwdriver set, gather the handles, knobs and screws, and head for the master bathroom. I’ve resigned myself to working alone for the rest of the day, which is fine with me, but it’s boring with no music. I forgot to bring the radio today, and my iPod, tragical y, is unfixable. If I want music, I’l have to provide it for myself.
    Starting with the under-sink cabinets, I line up the screws with a chrome hinge while balancing the door on my foot, and fit the ratchet to a screw and crank it, click-click-click.
    By the time I’m adding the chrome handle, I’ve got a slow, steady beat going and I’m singing a soft song cal ed
    “Gravity” by Alison Krauss. It’s about a girl who leaves home and kind of never looks back, because once she’s gone, she realizes that life isn’t as straightforward as she’d once thought.
    When I stand up to grab another hinge and set of screws for the next door, Reid is standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. My voice falters, but I finish the last line before going silent. I don’t know how long he’s been there. For a moment he doesn’t say anything, and then his eyes shift to the cabinet doors stacked against the wal . “Roberta sent me to help with the cabinets.” I grab a door without replying and position it as I did the last one. Since the hinges wil be placed on the opposite side from the last one, it won’t be as easy to attach, but I know what I’m doing, and it’s not an impossible job to do alone. Aside from the fact that I’d rather do it without him standing there staring at me.
    When he doesn’t take the unspoken hint, I say, “I don’t need help.”
    I expect him to turn and go, but he doesn’t. Bracing his shoulder against the doorjamb, he crosses his arms over his chest and watches me. I ignore him, balance the door, line up the hinge with the predril ed holes, and attempt to twist the screws in partway by hand.
    The first screw doesn’t catch, pops out of the hinge and flies across the ceramic tile floor, stopping when it bumps against his boot. Without missing a beat I grab another screw and repeat the process, with an identical result. “Holy Moses,” I mutter, which earns a rude laugh from Reid as he leans to pick up the screws at his feet. He jingles them in his hand like Dad does with loose change.
    “Any time you want me to hold something, or screw something, just let me know.”
    Wonderful. A patented Reid Alexander double entendre.
    Final y, the screws catch, and I offer up a silent prayer of thanks while wondering how much trouble I’d be in if I stood up and kicked him in the shin with my steel-toed boot.
    Hard .

Chapter 12
    REID
    I think she seriously wants to strangle me right now. I haven’t decided if that’s how I want her to feel or not.
    I watch her attach the third cabinet door—the one with the hinges on the right. She’s left-handed, so it’s easy enough for her. The last thing she wants is my assistance.
    I’m weighing the desire to keep her irritation level as high as possible against the suspicion that the longer I loiter in the doorway, the higher the likelihood she’l refuse to sign my timesheet at 3:00.
    She sighs before lining up the hinges with the last door, and I imagine the words threading through her head as she pleads with the hardware to cooperate. The first time it begins to angle off course, I step up and take it from her, our fingers brushing. She jumps like my hand is fire, recovers quickly and begins twisting the screws in by hand.
    When they’re in as far as they can go without the screwdriver’s assistance, she picks up the tool and drives them in the rest of