All Chapters of Rewinding My Reaper Boyfriend: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

The bathroom light was unflinching. It was a high-wattage LED bulb that Cale had installed himself because he claimed the previous incandescent bulb offered "insufficient lumen output for proper hygiene inspection."Now, he was regretting the upgrade."Elion," Cale called out. His voice was calm, but it had an edge to it. A vibration of controlled panic. "Report to the secure zone immediately.""It's a bathroom, Cale," Elion yelled from the bedroom. "Not a bunker.""It is a site of biological maintenance. And I have discovered a structural failure."Elion walked in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was wearing flannel pajama pants and nothing else. Cale, fully dressed in his black trousers and white shirt (he had never really embraced the concept of casual wear), was leaning over the sink, his nose inches from the mirror."What failure?" Elion asked. "Did the pipe burst?""No," Cale said. "The chassis. My chassis."He pointed a trembling finger at his own temple."Look," Cale commanded

The pickup truck that rumbled up the gravel driveway was red, rusted in the wheel wells, and sounded like it was coughing up a lung. It backfired once, loudly, before coming to a shuddering halt next to the Prius.Cale stood on the porch. He was wearing his work boots, dark jeans, and the grey sweater. His arms were crossed. His expression was that of a gatekeeper at the entrance to the underworld, checking IDs.Elion stood behind him, drinking coffee and trying not to laugh."He looks... casual," Cale noted, eyeing the driver."He's a contractor, Cale. Not a secret agent. His name is Dave. Mrs. Higgins says he built her gazebo.""A gazebo is a low-stress structure. A deck staircase is a critical load-bearing element. If it fails, gravity wins.""Gravity isn't going to win today. Be nice.""I am professional. Niceness is optional."The driver door opened. A large man with a beard and a baseball cap stepped out. He was wearing a t-shirt that said Dave's Decks: We Nail It.Cale frowned.

The vacuum cleaner was making a sound that Cale described as "mechanical distress."It whined. It sputtered. It smelled faintly of burning rubber.Cale stood in the middle of the living room rug, holding the handle of the Dyson as if it were a weapon that had just jammed in the heat of battle. Atlas, the dog, was barking at the machine, convinced it was an intruder that needed to be neutralized.Stop barking, Lieutenant, Cale said to the dog. The enemy is internal.Elion walked in from the kitchen, holding a mug of tea. He stepped over the dog, who was now army-crawling toward the vacuum nozzle.What did you do to it? Elion asked.I attempted to optimize the airflow, Cale admitted. I removed the restrictor plate in the intake valve.You modded the vacuum?I improved it. The suction velocity was insufficient for the canine particulate matter.You mean the dog hair.I mean the fur. It is everywhere, Elion. It defies physics. How can one animal shed more mass than it consumes?It's a sup

"Stop."Cale didn't shout. He didn't have to. He raised one hand, palm flat, cutting through the chaotic noise of the construction site like a surgical blade.The firefighter operating the jackhammer killed the engine immediately. The machine sputtered and died, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.The silence that rushed in was violent. It was filled with the sudden, sharp cry of seagulls circling overhead and the heavy, rhythmic crash of the Atlantic Ocean against the cliffside below. The air smelled of salt spray and pulverized limestone."What’s wrong, boss?" The firefighter wiped a smear of grey dust and sweat from his forehead with the back of his glove. "I was just getting into the rhythm.""Vibration levels are exceeding the tolerance of the limestone mortar," Cale said. He tapped his clipboard with a pen, the sound sharp in the quiet air. "You are too close to the foundation stone. If you continue at that frequency, you risk micro-fractures in the base.""It’s just concrete

The frost on the windowpane looked like a map of a city that didn't exist. Intricate lines of white ice crisscrossed the glass, blocking out the view of the ocean.Elion stood in the kitchen, wrapping his hands around a hot mug of tea. He was wearing two pairs of socks and shivering slightly."It is cold," Elion said, his breath puffing in the air.Cale was kneeling by the wood stove. He was arranging kindling with the precision of a surgeon setting a bone."The ambient temperature is forty-two degrees," Cale reported without looking up. "The insulation in the north wall is insufficient. I should have replaced the fiberglass batting in October.""You were busy building a lighthouse," Elion reminded him."That is not an excuse for thermal inefficiency," Cale countered. "Now we are suffering a caloric deficit due to shivering.""I'm not suffering. I'm just brisk."Cale struck a match. He lit the paper beneath the kindling. The fire caught, orange tongues licking at the dry wood."We are