Fixer-Upper (6 page)

Jasper froze. “Finally woke up, I see.” He rocked back on his heels and then walked like a normal person to stand by the bed. He put his hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “The good news is the wood hit the back of your head.”

“Why’s that good news?” Jake asked around a mouthful of ice chips.

“Your face wasn’t damaged at all. I think some people would have been real upset if that had happened.”

Jake squinted up at him, confused. He knew that was supposed to mean something, but he just couldn’t grasp it. He watched as Dakota glared at Jasper. “Did you really just say that to him?” Dakota asked.

Jasper shrugged. “I mean, they’d be upset either way. But I think they’d be a little more upset if his face was broken.”

“There’s something wrong with you,” Dakota told him, and then he turned to Jake. “They wouldn’t be more upset if your face had gotten hit. It would have been equally bad and your face would have healed.”

Jake reached up to touch his face. “Are you guys trying to tell me something happened to my face?” Were they trying to prep him for bad news? He felt his nose; it felt fine, not crooked or bent out of shape.

“No,” said Dakota, once more glaring at Jasper. “Nothing happened to your face.” He shoved Jasper a little. “Is there anyone you need us to call?”

“Matt,” said Jake, thinking of how freaked out his best friend was going to be. “I should probably call Matt, he’s going to be worried.” He frowned. “Did they call him already? No, wait,” he said, horror filling his tone, “they didn’t call Kevin, did they?” He didn’t think he’d taken him off his files yet. Would he show up here? That was the last thing Jake needed.

He tried to sit up, only to have Dakota’s hands land flat on his chest and slowly push him back down. “It’s fine,” said Dakota. “They didn’t call Kevin. I rode in with you and explained the situation. I can call Matt for you now.”

Jake shook his head. “I want to,” he said. “He’s going to panic a lot less if he hears me talking.”

“Are you sure? I know your head has to hurt.”

“Like there’s a marching band in it,” admitted Jake. He wiggled his fingers and held out his hand anyway.

Dakota sighed. “At least let me dial for you. You’re not supposed to be looking at screens.”

“Fine.” Jake closed his eyes.

“You need to tell me your passcode,” said Dakota. “And Matt’s last name.”

“Oh,” said Jake. “It’s 1895, and Matt’s in my favorites. He’s the only Matt. Matt, the one and only.” He giggled.

“Did they give him painkillers?” asked Jasper.

“Yeah,” said Dakota. He held the phone to Jake’s ear.

Jake could hear the ringing. It hurt his head. “Speaker phone,” he said. “Could we do that?”

Dakota took the phone away and set it down on his chest. The ringing filled the room, but it didn’t fill Jake’s head.

“Aye,” said Matt’s voice, loud and tinny in the silent room. “What’s up?”

“Matt,” said Jake, “Matt.” He had to think for a minute. “Don’t panic, Matt.”

“Well,” said Matt, “a good way to make a person panic is to say don’t panic. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got a… concussion.” It took him a minute to think of the word. “Could you come to the hospital?”

Matt’s squawk made his teeth clench. Dakota switched off the speaker function and put the phone to his own ear, leaving the room to finish the conversation. Jake was relieved. He covered his eyes. “I don’t feel so good,” he said. “It hurts.”

He felt Jasper pry the cup of ice chips from his hand. “Why don’t you try and sleep for an hour?”

“M’not tired,” slurred Jake, dropping off into sleep not even a minute later.

THEY KEPT
Jake in the hospital for twenty-four more hours, much to his consternation. Matt came and stayed with him and was the one to take him home. Sometime between the phone call to Matt and Matt actually arriving, Dakota and Jasper left. Jake tried not to be irritated by that. He felt a little better when they finally gave him his phone and he saw the get-well message from Dakota, but it was only a little. Matt told him he was sulking.

“Not sulking,” he said, thinking of all the time he was going to be spending not around Dakota. The nurse had told him it was a minor concussion, and he’d be good to go within a week or two, but up until then, he wasn’t allowed to work. They didn’t have long left till the yard would be done, and he’d never see Dakota again, and now he’d lost two weeks?

Maybe he was sulking.

“You’re definitely sulking,” Matt said. He peered over his shoulder as Jake reread Dakota’s “hope to see you soon, feel better” message. “We could probably call what you’re doing pining.”

“I’m not pining,” said Jake, turning his phone over so Matt couldn’t see it.

“Sure,” said Matt. He flopped onto the couch next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Want to watch the gardening channel?”

“Not funny,” said Jake. “Pull up Netflix.”

Matt put on Netflix and patiently (he didn’t bitch at Jake about it) sat there for the half an hour it took for Jake to make up his mind about what he wanted to watch. Jake settled on
Cupcake Wars
. “Maybe,” said Matt, “you could become a baker. Look at how pretty these cupcakes are. They’re practically works of art.” He rambled on, providing a steady stream of commentary that had Jake somewhat distracted from his misery. Eventually the TV started to hurt his eyes, and he made Matt turn it off.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do for two weeks,” he said. “Possibly go crazy.”

“The nurse said seven to ten days, that’s not two weeks,” pointed out Matt. “This isn’t the end of the world.” He turned to face Jake. “You could always ask Dakota to come visit you?”

“That’s not professional,” said Jake. “What would I even say? I have a gardening emergency? Can he come check it out?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” said Matt. “But I’m going to strangle you if I have to deal with this moping for too long.”

“Let’s bake,” he said. It would take up time, and he’d get to eat his work. That sounded like a win to him.

They turned to Pinterest for recipes and made a list of all the things they would need to buy. It was a really long list. Matt didn’t have even the basics in his house. Jake stayed behind while Matt went to the store. He’d protested at first, but Matt had pointed out that Jake was still sensitive to light, and the supermarket lights were sure to make his head pound. Matt had been gone for all of five minutes before Jake fell asleep.

HE WAS
wrist deep in batter that was clinging to his hands in a truly unpleasant way. “I don’t understand how I’m supposed to smooth it out if I can’t get it off me,” he said.

“Hold your hands out, and I’ll scrape the spoon over them,” suggested Matt.

Jake held his hands out, Matt scraped, and the batter clung to the spoon. Matt banged it repeatedly on the edge of the pan, trying to get it to fall off. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Jake licked off some of the batter and promptly grimaced. “Ugh,” he said. “I hope it tastes better cooked.”

“Go wash yourself off,” said Matt. “You can’t touch anything like that.”

“Yes, Mom.”

As he was washing his hands, his phone pinged with an incoming text. “Who is it?” he asked. His hands were still slick with batter, feeling gross and slimy. The stuff was clumped under his nails.

“Dakota’s texting you,” said Matt. “There’s a picture, and he’s asking what you think.”

“What’s the picture of?” He turned his head, watching as Matt bent so his nose was nearly touching the phone.

“Can’t tell, and I’m kinda busy. I don’t think you want me touching your phone.” He held up his batter sticky fingers and wiggled them.

“Yeah, no.” He’d check in a minute once he got his hands clean.

His phone pinged a second time. “Someone’s getting impatient,” said Matt.

“Is he really?” Jake had yet to see Dakota act impatient; he doubted he’d be starting now. He dried his hands off and checked his phone. The picture was of a partial brick trail in his backyard. The following two messages read:
what do you think?
and
are you sure you don’t want yellow bricks?

Jake chuckled and sent back:
Looks fantastic and I’m positive. I don’t need all my guests making wizard of oz jokes, thanks.

About half an hour later, when Jake was in the middle of trying to get the lumps out of the batter for the pound cake they were making, Dakota replied. Jake swiped to see the message, leaving behind a trail of flour on his phone screen.

You’re missing out on a golden opportunity. How’s the head?

“Don’t you stop mixing,” Matt warned him. “You finish with that batter before you respond to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Jake, resisting the urge to flick some of the batter at Matt’s face.

“Whatever you say.” Matt opened the oven and bent to look inside. “Come here, and tell me if you think this is done.”

Jake squinted in at the cookies. They were massive, edges touching, and looked very fluffy. “I think they’re done,” he said. “We can always stick them back in if they’re not.” He moved out of the way so Matt could pull the cookies out.

While Matt’s back was turned, he responded to Dakota’s message.
Getting better. Bit of a headache.

Once he’d finished removing the lumps from his batter, he handed it off to Matt to be poured into the pan and snapped a picture of the snickerdoodle cookies. He sent it to Dakota and captioned it:
Just made these.

Matt bumped him to the side, said, “You’re ridiculous. Are you going to invite him over to try them?” He popped the cake into the oven. “What do you want to make next?”

Jake wanted to, he really, really did. But he wasn’t going to. All he could imagine was Dakota politely declining the invitation via text and…. Yeah, no. He could do without the rejection.

“Let’s try cupcakes.”

HIS CAR
smelled like a bakery, and it kind of resembled one too. He had stack after stack of pans filled with cakes, cookies, cupcakes, brownies, tarts, and pastries loaded into the back seat. There was a chance that Matt and he had gone a little overboard in his week and a half of being homebound. Jake was pretty sure they’d each gained twenty pounds apiece.

He parked the car carefully and disembarked, rounding it to open the back door. Most of the crew were already present, so he waved and yelled a greeting to get their attention. “I’ve got baked goods,” he said. “Help yourself to them. Take them home with you if you want. I just need the pans back if you do.”

“You really don’t do well with inactivity.” Jake turned, wincing a little with how fast he did, and smiled widely at an equally smiley Dakota.

“Hi,” he said. If it came out a little breathy, well, he had just been concussed. “Do you want anything? I’ve got pretty much everything.”

Dakota walked around the car, bumping shoulders with him when he got near. He bent to look in at all the food. “You kept sending me pictures of everything. I almost want to try it all.”

“You can,” said Jake. “It’s all edible.”

Dakota laughed at that. “What a rousing endorsement.” They moved out of the way so the horde of construction workers could sort through the lot. “What do you recommend?”

“The lemon bars,” said Jake. They were like slices of heaven. He’d eaten an entire pan of them by himself. “The cinnamon Bundt cake is really good too. There’s like four of them in there.” That had been a favorite of Matt’s. “Really, it’s all good. And I’ve got more at home, so if you want something that we run out of here I can always bring it to you.”

“There’s more at home?” Dakota looked at him in disbelief. “Just how much did you bake?”

Jake scratched at his chin. “Well,” he hedged, feeling his cheeks flush when Dakota started to laugh.

“Are you going to open a bakery?” asked Dakota. “You’ve really taken to baking it seems.”

“No,” said Jake, glancing down at his once flat stomach. “I’d be round as a house if I opened a bakery.” He shrugged. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do.” He nudged his shoulder into Dakota’s. “Maybe I’ll go into landscaping.”

He expected Dakota to laugh it off, make a joke. He didn’t expect Dakota to give him a contemplative look. “You could if you wanted to,” he said. “You’re good, and you’ve got the eye for it.”

Jake felt his mouth hanging open. He closed it. “Thank you,” he stuttered, honestly shocked and unsure what to say. “That means a lot.”

Dakota smiled at him, resting a large hand on his shoulder and squeezing. “You’re welcome.” The crowd around Jake’s car had thinned a little, and he started to edge forward. “So where are the lemon bars?”

His selection of baked goods was completely picked through, many of the pans gone, carted off to cars or wherever. Jake leaned over what was left, scanning for the bars. “I wonder if I’ll get my pans back,” he said, moving a half-empty muffin tin out of the way.

“Keep reminding them,” said Dakota.

He found the bars underneath a pan of brownies. He carefully slid them out, turning to proffer the pan to Dakota. The bars were presliced, and he held it out, pulling back the cling wrap so Dakota could pry a corner free. He watched Dakota’s face closely as he took his first bite.

Dakota’s eyes slid closed, and he let out an obscene moan. “God,” he said once he’d swallowed. “That’s good.” He took another large bite. Jake watched the way his jaw worked as he chewed, making his cheekbones stand out in even more definition. There were crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Jake’s fingers twitched, wanting to brush them away.

“What’s going on here?”

He’d been so absorbed in watching Dakota eat that he hadn’t even noticed Jasper’s approach. He nearly dropped the lemon bars to the ground, ended up fumbling them, he was so startled by his appearance. He tore his gaze from Dakota’s face and held out the lemon bars to Jasper. “I brought baked goods.”

“These are the best,” said Dakota, reaching out to pluck another bar from the pan. “Fucking fantastic.”

Jake had to duck his head, biting his lip to keep from laughing giddily. If he touched the tips of his ears, he was pretty sure he’d find them to be warm. When he glanced up at last, it was to find Jasper staring at him knowingly while Dakota stuffed another lemon bar in his mouth. Jake shoved the lemon bars at Jasper. “Want one?” he asked. Maybe if Jasper had food in his mouth he’d stop looking at him like that.