“And here you are, so fabulously you, and your dad doesn’t notice,” she said quietly. “He sucks.”

Cope laughed, the knot his father made in his gut easing a bit. “He’s old and set in his ways. That’s what my mom says. He loves us all. I just don’t think he knows how to relate to us when it comes to personal lifestyle choices.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help. I’ve got my own struggles with my parents over my choices, so I don’t have much advice. Though, through all the tension, I’ve never doubted their love or support for me.” She sighed. “What’s your favorite thing to do on a Saturday morning?” she asked suddenly.

He wanted to follow up on the comment about her family, but he’d wait. Things were heavy enough just then, so it would do to lighten up. “I’m restoring my house. I like to get up early and work on it. Silly, I know.”

She turned and looked at him, not through her lashes this time, but those brilliant green eyes of hers locked on his. “That’s not silly at all. It’s wonderful. I had no idea. I thought you lived in a condo in Eastlake.”

“I’m still there until I can move into the house. The condo is on the market though. I bought a house in Ballard. It’s what the Realtor called a fixer-upper. Ha! It was a total mess. But that’s sort of what I wanted. I wanted to take on a project where I could make exactly what I needed. Obviously I can’t afford to build from scratch, especially here in the city, so I’m doing the next best thing and restoring.”

He wasn’t sure why he’d just told her all that. He rarely spoke about his love of carpentry. His friends and family knew about the house and the project, but not the extent of what he was doing.

People tended to think about him in certain ways. It didn’t make him bitter or angry; he tended to be the most laid back of the men he knew. But it was close to his heart.

“That’s awesome, Cope. I’d love to see it sometime. I can’t do a whole lot of construction stuff; I don’t really know how. But I can paint and plant things. If you ever need help, I hope you’ll call me.”

He grinned. “Really? I can always use an extra pair of hands.”

“Yes, of course. I’m a pretty quick learner if there’s something I don’t understand.” She said the last, her chin jutting out almost defiantly.

Some things went deeper than a physical scar. “He told you you couldn’t do anything?”

She hesitated so he stayed quiet, waiting for her to decide to share.

“Sort of. He was good at it. He didn’t”—she ducked her head—“he didn’t hit me all the time. Just to underline a point here and there. But he was an expert at making me feel small and dim. I played my part, and now that’s over. Even with my family and friends though ...” She sighed. “It’s just that sometimes people have this idea of you. They know you in certain ways, and it’s like they’re incapable of seeing other facets. It’s not done out of meanness, but it limits nonetheless. A person is more than just who they were growing up, or one horrible period in their life.”

He didn’t say a word. Just squeezed her hand and looked out over the water and glittering lights. He knew what she meant. More than he could express to her just then.

The stuff she’d shared was major and deep, personal, and he was hungry for more. It was a chore not to push her to share. But he got the feeling she needed to tell it at her own pace, so he reined it in.

“I used to be a cheerleader.”

Well now.

“You should know I have a thing about cheerleaders. Can you still do the splits? Do you still have the uniform? Um, when I say that, I mean cheerleaders of age and all. I’m a pervert, not a deviant.”

She laughed. “Glad to hear you’re on the right side of that divide.” She was quiet for a while before she added very quietly, “I used to be someone else.”

“No. You used to have a different sort of life. And now things have happened to change you.”

“No. I used to have no fear. None.” She shrugged. “Everything was an adventure, a challenge to be taken.”

“I’m not the same person I was when I was twenty-two either. Who could be? And who’d want that?”

They sat, quiet with the noise all around them.

“As for the splits? I haven’t tried in a very long time.” She was amused, but sadness edged her voice too.

“If you ever decide you’d like to give it a try, you know where I am. I’m always happy to spot you. Now, about that uniform?”

She turned to him with rolled eyes, playfully batting at his shoulder. “If I did, I doubt I’d be able to squeeze into it.”

A comfortable silence settled in as they picked at all the munchies on the plate he’d brought back with him. Both seemed to understand the depth of what had been shared, the intimacy they’d built. He couldn’t regret it at all.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked sometime later, after they’d demolished the food and drink. “Seems a shame to waste that dress.” He paused. “Though, I could be perfectly content to sit here with you and imagine you in that cheerleading skirt.”

She laughed softly. “All right then. Though I must tell you how utterly relaxed I am right now under this blanket with you. In addition to your other fine qualities, you put out a great deal of body heat. It’s a dream of mine.”