"Ross, you're here. Is Carrie back already?" Russell asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
His shirt clung to him from the effort of struggling with the half-finished cabinet in front of him.
Carpentry was never his strength, and though he had been at it for hours, the uneven pieces and scattered tools only proved his lack of skill.
"I'm here, Dad! I'm just making some snacks for everyone," Carrie's cheerful voice rang out from the living room.
"Good," Russell muttered, nodding absently.
He glanced toward his wife, Alexa, who stood nearby with a soft smile.
That smile, however, only added to the weight on his shoulders.
He hated looking helpless in front of her, hated admitting defeat when it came to something as simple as building furniture.
Still, the frustration in his hands and the ache in his back reminded him of the truth he couldn't ignore—he wasn't cut out for this kind of work.
His eyes shifted toward Ross.
