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eight

Byron

I lunge at him.

Vincent Whitewater. I wouldn’t call us best friends, but we were civil. We were raised in Darkmore together, but he always had a taste for control. He wanted to be a cop, but he ended up being a forest ranger instead. Being the man who lived in the wilderness, I was used to him being around.

"Byron!" Sawyer's shout takes me out of my blind fury.

I stop, inches away from him.

Vincent, who's nearly as big and muscular as me, hasn't moved an inch. "I don't want to fight you, Byron." He raises his hands in a gesture of peace. "But please, this company has all their hotshot lawyers involved. We need to do something."

I let the axe fall to the floor. He's right. I hate him for it, but he's right.

"Vince," I sigh. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't take my anger out on you."

"Hey, you didn't even throw a punch yet. That's better than usual."

I grin. "Keep it up, and I'll send you home with a black eye. Your wife might find you better looking."

Sawyer looks between us, the tension gone.

Vincent laughs. "Ok, ok. But seriously, what are we going to do about the logging company? I don't want to have to arrest you. We need to be amicable."

I scrub my hand over my face, fixing my beard.

Another SUV pulls up the gravel road.

"More visitors?" I grumble. I hadn't had this much company in a very long time. A benefit of living in the forest was hardly anyone ever made the trek up here. If I wanted to socialize, I had to make the effort to go into town, which was rare.

A man in a fancy suit and slick hair stepped out of the SUV.

"Fancy bigshot lawyers?" I grunt to Vincent, who nods.

"Mr. Whitewater, I see you're making the arrest," the lawyer says, waving a folder around. He walked like he had a stick up his ass. I hated those kinds of people - people who thought they were better than everyone else just because of their job or their family.

"Not so fast," I interrupt, wishing I had my axe in hand. "Who the hell are you?"

"Mr. Grayson. I represent the interests of the logging company."

"Figured," I grunt. "Well, you can fuck right off."

The lawyer sputtered, his face going red. "How dare you speak to me that way? I demand that you arrest this man immediately! He's obstructing justice, and he's certainly not cooperating."

Vincent held up a hand, calming both me and the lawyer down. "Now, now, let's not get carried away."

"No. I'm here to prove he was trespassing," the stuffy lawyer says as he approaches the cabin, waving the folder around. "The acreage of the trees is private property." He gives me a smug look. "You should know your father sold it to us."

My chest aches at the memory. But what hurts more is Sawyer's gasp beside me.

She looks at me, her eyes wide with confusion and betrayal. "Byron, your father sold this land?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I clench my fists at my sides, my jaw tense. I look away from her, unable to meet her gaze. "I didn't want you to know," I say, my voice rough. "I didn't want you to think that I was involved in this, that I was on their side. I wanted to help you, Sawyer. I wanted to give you hope. I wanted to protect the tree."

"Even though you knew it was useless?" Tears spring up in her eyes. I fucking hate seeing her cry. I turn to face her, my heart aching.

"Sawyer, I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I should have told you. I just... I didn't want you to give up. I didn't want you to lose hope. It was my father who sold the land. He sold almost all of it. I was a teenager when he did it, but I never agreed with him."

She sniffles, her cheeks wet with tears. "But Byron, it's been a lie," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've been lying to me this whole time. How can I trust you now?"

I reach out to her, but she flinches away from my touch. The pain of her rejection cuts deep.

I lower my hand, letting it fall limply to my side. I can't blame her for being upset. How could I have been so stupid? I should have been honest with her from the start.

I turn to Vincent, my voice hard. "Just do what you have to do, Vincent. I'm not going to fight you on this."

"Byron, I don't want to do this. You know I respect you, but I have a job to do."

The click is deafening as the handcuffs wrap around my wrists.

I walk to the Ranger SUV, leaving Sawyer crying behind me.