Survivor's Guilt

chapter fourteen

The building on Seventy-Sixth Street left Yael feeling wary and uncertain. At first glance, it needed more love and care than she initially thought, boards over the windows and graffiti splattered along the side, but after a closer look, she saw past the cracked brick walls and rotted roof. She recognized the strong bones, envisioning what it could be once finished. Then it hit her. She was the building, rough around the edges, waiting to discover her potential. No wonder she'd become so invested in the project.

A sleek, black car pulled up, and Casey stepped out, focusing his attention on her.

"You look terrible."

"Just what a girl needs to hear," Yael threw back.

"What I mean is, I know how hard you've been working. Have you even slept?"

"Not much. I'm too excited. This is my baby."

Casey glanced over at the building and scrunched his nose. "The roof is rotting."

"Oh, hush. It has such a lovely structure, a strong foundation. And the windows? Bay windows, Casey. Notice the original brick work? You don't find that these days, not in the land of gleaming steel and concrete."

He continued to scowl at the sight. "There was a building like this in my neighborhood growing up. At night, we heard screams coming from the basement."

"You're not funny."

"Fine, don't believe me, but when we get wind of a serial killer holed up in the boiler room and the FBI descends on us, don't come crying to me."

He bumped her with his shoulder until she shook her head and grinned. Everything he did confused her, veering from egocentric asshole to teasing her literally overnight. Still, she remembered the way he treated her the first time they met and resolved to keep the walls up until he proved their shaky friendship was real.

"Speaking of cruel and unusual torture, you need to stop with the goodies." Casey rubbed a hand over his flat stomach. "I'm going to get fat."

"Don't blame me because you have zero self-control." She shot him a smirk. "Just say no."

"Isn't that something I should tell you?"

Heat flared in her cheeks, and she entertained the urge to drive her heel into his foot. If she hadn't seen the twinkle in his eye, she would have succumbed to the act with glee.

"Careful, I might slip a laxative into your next cupcake."

He tossed his head back and laughed. She resisted the urge to join in and redirected her attention to her project.

"Why are you here? Other than to criticize and mock."

"Doug told me you'd be down here."

"And?" She looked back at him expectantly.